Gosh ducklings and goslings are cute! The last of the hatch was out today, with just a few goose eggs to go. The eggs were collected early in spring when the temperatures were still very low and although they were likely fertile, they were not viable. The ducks laid in their shelter and the chickens in their nesting boxes, but the geese were laying outside in makeshift nests. Unfortunately, most of the eggs got chilled and only two geese out of 50 eggs hatched. There are four geese setting now though, and each has a dozen or more eggs, so most likely, many of those eggs will hatch. The geese adults all care for and protect the young goslings. Last year, the gaggle raised 5 mom hatched little gaffers and they all went into the freezer. This year, if the eggs all hatch, which is not likely, but possible, there will be more than 40 goslings. It will be more difficult to protect the babies from arial predators, particularly the ravens. I am not sure how to handle that, not wanting to lose the young ones, but at the same time, wanting to allow the gaggle to look after and raise their babies. Only Robbie, the border collie, chases the ravens off. The other livestock guardian dogs do not much bother with them, unfortunately. 

Two goose eggs pipped, that is the baby broke through the shell, but they have been in the shells too long now, and likely will die in the shell. It is usually not a good idea to liberate the hatchlings either, since they often die shortly after, especially if they are stuck to the shell or membrane and bleed from being released. There are a dozen more goose eggs still in the incubator due in a few days. Then hatching is pretty much over for this year. A hundred chicks and about 25 ducklings, plus 5 turkeys made it, and so far, just two little goslings. They are all living in the granary aka brooder house with two heat lamps (in case one light burns out in the night or anything else ). During the day, if it is good weather, the granary door is open with a wire cover in place to keep cats and ravens out, so the birds can get some fresh air and see outside. In a few weeks they will be transferred to separate pens, one for the waterfowl and the other for the chicks and turkeys. There they will remain until they are well on their way to adult hood and have gained the ability to fend off predators and watch for themselves, usually about at four months old. The males will be sent off to the processor at five months, and the females sold as laying hens or kept for breeding stock and laying hens for the farm. Then next year, the cycle will go on. That is the way of the hatch. 

There are over 100 chicks, 4 turkey poults and about 20 ducklings in the brooder so far. Tomorrow the ducklings need to be separated because they use up all the water and make such a big mess, it just isn't fair to the chicks. The turkey poults do not know how to eat or drink on their own and that is something, when the turkey mother hatches her eggs, she teaches the babies to do. Otherwise, they must learn on their own from watching the chicks or if they are by themselves, their human caretaker must show them by giving them the food and taking them to the water and dipping their beaks into it. It is so much easier when the mothers hatch their babies and care for them, and the babies are so much smarter. Last year, I carefully observed newly hatched chicks. The mothers took them around the barn yard, showing them what food was good, how to drink water and when they got cold, she called them to her and brooded them right where they were. In the first week, the young ones cannot regulate their own temperature yet, and need to be very warm, so the mother broods them very often, but they also are out and about and running over and under grasses and straw. Humans tend to coddle the chicks, not giving them straw, thinking it will cause their legs to splay, but in the real world, they are everywhere. The better mothers watch their babies closely and defend them fiercely. No one dare get too close or she will rush at the intruder and peck hard and scratch and puff herself up to appear a ferocious as she is acting. Human raised chicks miss all that fun. These babies will live in the granary brooder for a month, then be transferred to a hoop coop with a heat lamp in the corner. There they can experience the sunshine and fresh air and learn how to cope with the wind. Some will be kept to breed next year, but most, if not sold, will be put into the freezer for delicious meals in the winter. Their lives are honoured though, and they are loved and appreciated very much. Thank you little feathered friends, thank you so much. 

When a mother hen hatches a brood of chicks from eggs, about half will be roosters. When the mamma sheep has babies, some will be little rams. So it goes with the cows, the goats, the rabbits, alpacas, llamas and the piggies. What becomes of the males? They are eaten.

It is sad. The Fat Ewe Farm was not originally a meat farm, and it is still not one. The problem is that animals have babies and only one or two ram lambs are kept for breeding, so the rest are raised until they weigh something, and slaughtered for food. It is cost prohibitive to save the pelts and have them tanned at one hundred and twenty dollars per pelt tanning. They can only be sold for the same amount of money. Unless tanned at home, what is the point? The wool can be sent to the mill and a credit will be written, but poor quality wool with vegetative matter does not draw much money.

So the plan is to shear the rams two months prior to slaughter, slaughter at home, save the pelts, tan them at home, and eat the meat. It is the unfortunate consequence of being male. Too many roosters spoil the coop, but a rooster in the pot makes mighty fine soup.

Captain Morgan is the Japaense Bantam rooster with no feet. He was the low rooster in the pecking order and was not allowed to sit on the perch during winter, thereby freezing his feet. He was put in with the Flemish Giant rabbit, Petey and a lady for him, Sheila. Sheila and Captain Morgan bonded well and still hang around together, that is they did,  until they Ameraucana rooster grew up. Then he was relegated to very low man in the pecking order, so he hid in the back of the dog house where the Muscovy sisters built a nest. It was warm in there and safe from being terrorized by the other roosters, since the broody ducks protected Captain Morgan. In fact, they adopted him and he sleeps under the breast and wings of the ducks, along with the one little duckling they hatched. During the day his peg legs around the farm, feeding himself and avoiding the roosters. Sheila seems to have divorced him since he became a duck, but he does not follow the ducks around. They simply move too fast for him. On his own, he is fine and appears healthy and relatively content, though every night, now that the ducks are off the nest, he finds his way to where they sleep and gets tucked under a warm spot with the little duck. Now that is mother compassion at its height!

Captain Morgan was missing the other day and he called to me from under the huge spruce tree in the front yard, where I picked him up and put him in with Peter Rabbit. He has been Peter's room mate before, and they got along well enough. Captain morgan cannot breed anymore, so for a while, he and his wife were swapping in the tent next door, in the hope that she would start to lay some eggs. No such luck. 
Then Sheila, Morgan's second wife went missing. Not a trace, not a feather was found. But alas, there she was back in the barn behind the pregnant goat, where Captain Morgan and her lived for some time. They quite liked the place, especially the privacy, but they despised the fact that there were no windows and they were always in the dark so to speak, so they moved out. Sheila decided she preferred the dark to the suitor in the wife swapping tent, though, and she was found safe and sound back home. 
So Captain Morgan and Sheila are back in their first apartment together with Peter Rabbit, their room mate. The Faverolle hen has joined them, because, although she does not enjoy being a party girl, the boys think she does, and they gang rape her, so she stays on her perch inside, barely eating and drinking enough to stay alive. Every time she is outside, they jump her bones. 
Sheila is a little worried that Faverolle will steal Captain Morgan's affections, so she has pecked her a few times to put her in her place, but she needn't worry. The good Captain is quite happy with one wife these days, even in their sexless marriage. 
Anyhow, the happy couple is reunited and now they are sharing their tent with not just Peter but the Faverolle girl. The Captain kind of enjoys this (don't tell Sheila). 

There lives a small Buff Japanese bantam rooster on The Fat Ewe Farm. He was the low rooster in the pecking order and slept outside with the late hatch of Jersey Giant cross chicks. Those chicks are hardy, amazingly so. Only when they were too large to fit under the chicken coop did they reluctantly go inside to sleep. By then we had seen many nights of severely frigid weather. The rooster's combs had not grown very large, or their wattles, the hanging down things on the sides of their chins, or they would have frozen them. As it is the Salmon Faverolle rooster had completely frozen feet from sleeping on the floor inside the coop. That breed has feathered feet and for some reason he attracted snow on his feet, which turned to ice and his feet froze. He had to be put down, because with both feet frozen, he could no longer walk. 
But Captain Morgan, now that is another story. First of all he is tiny, but a strong willed survivor. One of his feet was completely frozen. I put him in with the Flemish Giant rabbit and gave him a girlfriend, who has since disappeared completely, not a feather left. At one point, I put him in the barn, but there is no sunshine there so I felt sorry for him and put him in a large pen. His foot fell off and he was able to hobble around on the ground, feed and water himself and still fly, but he could not land anywhere except the ground. His days of roosting are long gone. 
Then today, he was gone too. I could not find a trace of him, not a tail feather, nothing. The ravens hang around the birds to eat the eggs as they are laid. Since he is so small, he would be fair game. I was sorry to see him go. Then I went to see Sarah the goat, who had gotten herself in trouble again and Captain Morgan called to me. He was under a large spruce tree in the yard near the goat, a little mangled, likely from the puppies I would think, but not injured. I went to get him and he allowed himself to be picked up without a squawk. I put him in with the rabbit again, but he has no girlfriend now. I will have to find a bantam hen for him for company. 

What a strong will to live he has. He must have been half frozen more than once. His right foot is missing all the way to the ankle joint and several toes on his left foot may fall off. His comb is half of its normal size from being frozen and still he continues on. Because of his spirit and his peg leg, he sports the name Captain Morgan. I am routing for him. What a lesson for all of us from this little tiny sailor. We should all be so forward thinking and not give up when the chips are really down. Thanks little buddy. May you go on. 

Another day in paradise...

There is a lot of moisture in the air. As a matter of fact, the fog was rather thick, and the air quite crisp, resulting in a thick coating of hoar frost on everything. I marvel at the intricate patterns of the frost laid down on the every day things not usually beautiful, but when frosted with glistening ice crystals layered upon layer; it is breathtaking. 

The little goat kid, Sherry, was so cute in her house with the big Flemish Giant rabbit, Peter and now, two mates, the Silver Spangled Hamburg Hen and the injured little Japanese Bantam rooster. I am not sure what happened to him. Being a bit of the under dog in the coop, I think he spent one too many nights outside, afraid to go in, and froze a part of his foot. He is limping. I really love the Japanese Bantams. They are gentle little creatures, but not to be mixed with a coop of larger chickens. They had a cage in the coop, separate but still inside. I felt so sorry for them being caged while all the rest were free that I tended to leave the door open. The big chickens went in the cage and chased the little ones out. Then they took up residence under the coop with the late hatch of chicks. The Japanese bantam hens were never seen again. Either they succumbed to the frigid temperatures, or a raven or hawk found them too tempting. The chicken fence is the only one that the dogs cannot jump into.

The day ended up with the sun burning through the fog, further illuminating the thick frost that covered everything. Simply stunning!