Wouldn't you know...the minute I say I'm going to start sharing all the things that happen in my life that don't happen to other people and are just crazy and weird....nothing happens. So I'll have to share a story from the past....
When I first met my husband, it was October. By summer, I thought I was getting the hang of this country stuff. So, while he was away I thought I would venture out to his house and weed the garden. MY VERY FIRST GARDEN!! Was so excited. While I won't go into great detail about how stupid I was about gardening back then, I will say, we planted a garden the size of texas and I bought a hand held rake thing to weed it....yeah, I now know better....handheld rakes are good for NOTHING. But anyway....
While I was out there, I also discovered, and had my first encounter with a real live, outside living, wild, not in a zoo. SNAKE. YES A SNAKE...right outside the front door. How did I see the snake? Well when I walked out it JUMPED AT ME. Seriously...it JUMPED...snakes JUMP. Really they do, I promise...(and yes there is a witness to this story to verify it's validity). So what did the brave girl do? I SCREAMED and turned and ran back into the house. Was it a big snake? No, not really, but shut up! It was a SNAKE.
So then, what did I do? What any girl would do...I called my dad. Who, by the way, was at a birthday party in Minnesota. Yes, Yes, I got the response one would think when you call your dad who is four hours away about something like this..."what do you want me to do about it?". Uhm...well....I don't know....but DAD, there is a SNAKE JUMPING AT ME! I can just see the look on his face as he hung up the phone...and probably was questioned on what was so wrong that I had to call him at a birthday party in Minnesota. I'm a bit of a daddy's girl....I call my dad for a lot. I'm sure he was the happiest guy (and laughing and laughing) when I married Dave. I do believe there is some type of secret payment going on behind the scenes so that Dave doesn't leave me and give me back to my father.....
So, there I sat...trapped...in the house. After about an hour, I decided the snake had to be gone...went out...NOPE, it JUMPED AT ME AGAIN! And I jumped high into the air, did a twirl that would rival the best gymnasts and back into the house I went. I then decided, I needed local help and called a newly found friend who was the wife of one of my husband's friends. She wasn't home, but I did leave a dramatic, I'm in danger, hurry up, come help, I'm going to die kind of voicemail. Hours went by before she showed up.
She walked into the house and said...what is the problem??? I said did you see it? The snake out there? She gave me the look of "you are on drugs" and said uhm, no. I said "oh shut up...", walked outside and BAM THE SNAKE JUMPED AT ME. She saw it then. And she started laughing. The snake did NOT jump at her, it didn't even notice her......but when I came out it was right there ready to attack and kill me.
I was a least a little pleased that someone actually did see this happen....I mean, really, I can't make this stuff up. It never once, in the time she was there and laughing and making jokes, did that snake jump at her as she came out the door but it did EVERY SINGLE TIME jump at me. I finally just demanded that she kill the thing before it moved in and took up residence in the house. I was then given a very valuable lesson on killing snakes with a shovel. And I have gotten quite good at it.
We then decided to make plans to go out that night. Afterall, I had something to celebrate...I was saved from the very (non) DEADLY, (non) POISONOUS, (not so) BIG garden snake, but first I needed to finish weeding the garden. She offered to help so off we went. Then she saw me get down on my knees with the hand held rake and get to work and laughter rang out again...I looked at her and she said what the HECK are you doing? "Weeding the garden...why?" Get a hoe for crying out loud! What did I know...I had my cute pink gloves and green handled garden weeder...or so I thought. We never did finish weeding that garden, nor in the end did I get anything out of that garden because the rabbits ate it all...which then became a war on the rabbit population...which is a whole other story.
The next week, while Dave was gone again, I was out hanging at the river, there was a knock on the door. I looked out the window and their was his cousin and uncle and I very welcoming and happy, opened the door to my visitors. WHOA....should not have been so eager. There they were standing with a broom, and around that broom was a snake as big around as a baseball bat and longer than I am tall. (I'm pretty darn tall). "I about hurled my lunch right then and there". They..ever so nonchalantly said "Is this the snake that had you "trapped" in the house?". I couldn't even speak...I didn't even know snakes grew that big in the wild, outside, in Wisconsin, out of a cage at the zoo. I said "NOOOOOOOOOOO, what is THAT?" WHERE DID THAT THING COME FROM??? They said "oh in the house next door....it lives in there to eat the mice". Are you freaking KIDDING ME? I shut the door rather quickly, no way was that thing getting any closer to me. Oh they thought they were so funny, bringing that thing over and telling me everyone has one in their house to keep the mice under control. I started to wonder....are there snakes in THIS HOUSE???? It was a question that definitely needed some answers. So months later, or a year or so later, my husband asked us to move in with him. I said many times...nope, not living with snakes. He could not assure me enough that there was never a snake in his house ever. After all, there were plenty of things he and his friends told me, knowing I didn't know any better, just to get a laugh. I learned to be wary of anything they told me.
Finally, I opted to believe him and in we moved. About a week or so later, we were sitting in the living room having a chat and all of a sudden I noticed he wasn't really paying attention to me. His eyes kept shifting oddly towards the kitchen and then quickly back to me. I said. "what is your problem" and looked towards the kitchen and yep...you guessed it...a SNAKE. And this was not a normal grass or garden snake this was a RED SNAKE. A red and black snake...definitely a poisonous snake that would kill me and my son in our sleep....yes I freaked out...threw a fit like a sissy, swore I'd never believe another word he said, and I'm sure I had the neighbors believing he was beating me senseless. This snake did not jump at me though....but the snake that was outside that hot July afternoon did...and it only jumped at me....no one else. I swear.
I have since learned to kill a snake with the best of them ... just give me a metal shovel...(plastic ones don't work so well) and I will have the head chopped off of it so fast you won't know what hit you. Sadly, or rather...no, not sadly...very happily, we no longer live with the snakes at the river. At least I have not seen a snake here where we live now yet...people say they are around, I have not seen one...except for the green grass snake the neighbor boy found in some hay bales they brought to their place to put over their grass seed. He came over, knocked on the patio door (we had just moved here, so I didn't know him well enough yet to know better...now I do). I walked to the door and opened it and that little bugger threw the snake at me into my house. Yep, I screamed, jumped back, did the twirl that defies all gravity and told him to get that snake OUT OF MY HOUSE. He ran in, grabbed it and said he was going home...but as he was leaving threw it back onto my deck. Laughing and laughing....me not so much.
Oh the things I have learned from living in the country that really I should not know how to do. And oh how grateful I was for that friend that day. A. to save me from the snake and B. to be able to give truth to my story...because surely no one would believe me otherwise. And oh the things she would learn about me...and the things that she learned that I needed to learn. Like...horses...do lay down and they aren't dead if they lay down. Yes, horses sleep standing up, but they also lay down when they are tired in the middle of the field....
Until next time...keep your eyes open for snakes and a shovel close by!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
How I Got My Blog Title
One may wonder how in the world I came to have such a crazy title for my blog. Well, today I am going to tell you. (Beware, I can turn the shortest of stories into a novel). To get to the reasoning behind it, I must start at the beginning.
When my husband told me about our future chicken farming, I immediately said, "Well, if I have to be a chicken farmer, I'm going to have the cutest, funkiest, chickens around" and so the search begin. I started with searching different kinds of chickens on the internet. I found the ones I HAD to have. I wanted chickens that laid green eggs and I wanted Silkie Bantams...because they were just plain cute. Then, the search began where to find such chickens.
I first found the Aucauna's (better known as Easter Eggers). They laid green eggs. I searched far and wide for some for sale and finally came to a place in Greenville, WI that sold them. So off, my youngest son and I went to find such chickens and purchase them. I printed the directions off of Google and we headed out for our little chicken adventure. We made it to Greenville without becoming lost. That was a miracle, since I did not have my GPS yet. We did however drive through Greenville about 10 times trying to find the place that had these chickens. I kept coming to a massage parlor...and that could not be right. After driving by it for the 10th time, I finally pulled into the parking lot. There in the window was a sign...EGGS FOR SALE. I just shook my head, this could not be right, but I thought, I have looked stupid many times before so why not just go in and ask if they had chickens for sale. If they gave me a look, well, they would never see me again so who cares what they thought of me. Sure enough, they had the chickens I was seeking for sale. Seriously, only I would end up buying chickens at a massage parlor. I am quite certain I saved these chickens from some sacrificial killing ceremony that would be their future if some city girl did not purchase them and sweep them off to the country. Really, a massage parlor!! I bought chickens at a massage parlor. My husband...just shook his head when I told him.
Next, the hunt was on for the fuzzy Silkie Bantams. Their eggs were small, so they pretty much were going to be worthless but I was going to have cute chickens if my life depended on it. So a couple weeks later, off to Ahmerst I went with both the boys in tow this time. My 14 year old was not thrilled nor as excited as I was to be off on another chicken escapade. Again, I got lost...went to the wrong house first but then after several stops we found the chicken farm. Yes, this time it actually was a farm and boy were my eyes opened to the chicken industry. It became clear to me what it really meant to be a "cage free chicken". This place STUNK to high Heaven for starters. I thought I was going to end up vomiting from the smell and then too because of all the chickens just smashed into cages so tight they could not even move. I might be an animal lover after all because I felt sorry for those cramped chickens. My oldest was disgusted to say the least. He did not even want to go into the barn that smelled so disgusting and was concerned then (as was I, if I'm being honest) as to what our chicken coop was going to smell like....and if that smell would venture into my house. I am notorious for being known as the lady with the house that always smells good. It may be a mess, but it smells good. It's a motto I live by. But, I digress, we picked out ten baby fuzzy Silkie Bantams of different colors. Red ones, white ones, black ones, and multi-colored ones. Happy again I saved these chicks from a life of misery, and, off for home we headed.
(Really, I am getting to the point of the story). I offered to share some of these new chicks with my neighbors. They got chickens a year before we did and my neighbor also wanted some "fun chickens", one for each of her four children aside from their meat and layers. Her husband always dismissed the idea and of course that's where I said "Since when is he the boss of you....you can have whatever kind of chickens you want". And so it was settled, they would take four of the cute little fuzz balls.
We did not know the sex of the chicks when we got them. Nor, did we know how to tell what they would be. No one really wanted to get stuck with a crowing rooster that woke them up at the crack of dawn everyday. Well, I didn't mind if I had one, I can't hear, so wasn't going to bother me. But with the luck that the neighbors have (quite similar to mine) they ended up with two roosters and I got all the hens. For once, my luck seemed to be where it belonged...on the positive side.
I learned I was not just satisfied with chickens, I wanted A. a turkey to raise for Thanksgiving and B. to hatch my own eggs. I first tried to buy fertilized eggs and hatch them in an incubator. Within a week's time I blew up four incubators...NOT KIDDING...well not kidding on the last one I purchased, that one yes, I literally blew up, the other three just died an hour or so after turning them on. Hatching chickens, turkeys or game hens was not to be apparently. God was telling me, this is not your calling, and so stop wasting money on incubators. I gave up. I still however, wanted a turkey and I still wanted baby chicks.
So, off on another adventure we went at the very beginning of spring. I called my friend (who is from Seattle Washington and NOT a farm girl in the least either) and asked her if she wanted to go turkey shopping Sat. morning. She quickly said yes....knowing it was going to be quite an adventure since it was A. me she was going with, and B. who would turn up the chance at turkey shopping???? I awoke that Saturday morning, and got ready, a little disheartened at the fact it was raining ice that morning, but I was determined to go to the Weyauwega Poultry Swap. No, I had never been to a poultry swap and had no idea what to expect when I got there. A fact I quickly pointed out to my city friend so that in case it was a complete disaster, she knew I did not know what I was getting us into, nor do I ever, when I am heading off on such escapades.
I woke my four year old early that morning to get ready and head out. I said "we are going to go turkey shopping today! Won't that be fun??". He looked at me and replied "MOM, you don't BUY a turkey, you SHOOT a turkey!". A little too much education for a four year old? Maybe, but might as well train him right from the start, since he is the son of an avid hunter, but I said "Not today! We are going to buy one". And off we headed to the fair grounds.
Sadly, there were no turkeys for sale. BUT, there was a pair of the most adorable baby pygmy goats I had ever seen. THANK GOODNESS for my husband's sake they were $300.00 or he would have come home from work that morning to our "farming establishment" to being more than just chickens....I am a total sucker for anything baby and cute....but, we left empty handed and it was decided I would just buy a baby turkey from the Feed Mill.
I still, however, have not given up hope for the baby chickens that I would raise myself from the egg and decided I needed a rooster to put with my cute Silkie Fuzzy Chickens and watch them sit on and mother their eggs as nature intended. Now, where would I get a rooster?
OH YEAH...the chickens that I gave to the neighbors ended up being roosters....so bright and early Monday morning on my way home from the school I decided I was going to chicken-nap the roosters. Just stoop to a new low and steal them right out of their coop. So I pulled into their driveway, knowing no one would be home, and jumped out of the van headed for the coop. I grabbed a pull-ups box out of my van and grabbed one rooster and stuck it in the box and quickly closed it and put it into the van. But, how many roosters did I need? I wasn't sure, so thought, well, I'll just take them both and back to the coop I went. Grabbed the rooster and realized I did not have a second box to put it in. Oh, well, I'll just hold it I thought and jumped into the van. A chicken is not like a cat or a dog....they don't just lay in your lap and they don't calm when petted whatsoever. What was that I saw them doing at the poultry swap? They would get a chicken from the cage and hold on to it by it's legs and turn it upside down and it just hung there peacefully....THAT was what I was going to do. I think that only works for chickens....roosters...in a minivan...not so much. There was skwacking, feathers flapping, beak trying to peck me....but I was going to bring this rooster home and so I rolled down the window held it upside down by it's legs and drove the short distance home with the poor fellow flapping in the wind. I wonder what it looked like to the cars passing by as I drove across the road to my driveway with a rooster hanging upside down out the window. OH DANG, now I had a witness to my thievery...
Well, what does one do when they kidnap (or in this case rooster nap something...they leave a ransom note). So after getting the roosters in the coop, I needed to write a ransom note and thought about it all day....crafting the perfect note. (I am a bit of a joker...). So, I sat down at the table and used a crayon (I didn't have time to cut the letters from newspapers and magazines, to make it a true ransom note, they would be returning home soon). So with a bright red crayon, I wrote: We have the boys!! Come up with the dough or BAWK off with their heads". (I laughed and laughed....I'm kind of funny....)
I don't know if it got a laugh out of the neighbors or not, but I did get a text saying "I'm not paying for roosters...keep them". They didn't call the cops on me, and so far have not stolen anything of ours yet...I can't believe they don't want a dog or two.....but they haven't but I'm sure the day is coming soon when I will feel the wrath of payback. This isn't the first time I have played a joke on our neighbors....I did put a pile of white rocks at the end of their driveway which supposedly signals the world they are swingers (who knew???)....I'm sure payback is coming...when I least expect it, and well, quite frankly, I say BRING IT!
So now, I have my roosters, the chickens I want and so far...no chicken mothering is going on yet. In fact, I have no idea if the roosters are even doing their job...I don't have any idea how to tell. My husband did say, that he walked down there and saw a hen on the back of a hen though....leave it to me to end up with lesbian chickens!
When my husband told me about our future chicken farming, I immediately said, "Well, if I have to be a chicken farmer, I'm going to have the cutest, funkiest, chickens around" and so the search begin. I started with searching different kinds of chickens on the internet. I found the ones I HAD to have. I wanted chickens that laid green eggs and I wanted Silkie Bantams...because they were just plain cute. Then, the search began where to find such chickens.
I first found the Aucauna's (better known as Easter Eggers). They laid green eggs. I searched far and wide for some for sale and finally came to a place in Greenville, WI that sold them. So off, my youngest son and I went to find such chickens and purchase them. I printed the directions off of Google and we headed out for our little chicken adventure. We made it to Greenville without becoming lost. That was a miracle, since I did not have my GPS yet. We did however drive through Greenville about 10 times trying to find the place that had these chickens. I kept coming to a massage parlor...and that could not be right. After driving by it for the 10th time, I finally pulled into the parking lot. There in the window was a sign...EGGS FOR SALE. I just shook my head, this could not be right, but I thought, I have looked stupid many times before so why not just go in and ask if they had chickens for sale. If they gave me a look, well, they would never see me again so who cares what they thought of me. Sure enough, they had the chickens I was seeking for sale. Seriously, only I would end up buying chickens at a massage parlor. I am quite certain I saved these chickens from some sacrificial killing ceremony that would be their future if some city girl did not purchase them and sweep them off to the country. Really, a massage parlor!! I bought chickens at a massage parlor. My husband...just shook his head when I told him.
Next, the hunt was on for the fuzzy Silkie Bantams. Their eggs were small, so they pretty much were going to be worthless but I was going to have cute chickens if my life depended on it. So a couple weeks later, off to Ahmerst I went with both the boys in tow this time. My 14 year old was not thrilled nor as excited as I was to be off on another chicken escapade. Again, I got lost...went to the wrong house first but then after several stops we found the chicken farm. Yes, this time it actually was a farm and boy were my eyes opened to the chicken industry. It became clear to me what it really meant to be a "cage free chicken". This place STUNK to high Heaven for starters. I thought I was going to end up vomiting from the smell and then too because of all the chickens just smashed into cages so tight they could not even move. I might be an animal lover after all because I felt sorry for those cramped chickens. My oldest was disgusted to say the least. He did not even want to go into the barn that smelled so disgusting and was concerned then (as was I, if I'm being honest) as to what our chicken coop was going to smell like....and if that smell would venture into my house. I am notorious for being known as the lady with the house that always smells good. It may be a mess, but it smells good. It's a motto I live by. But, I digress, we picked out ten baby fuzzy Silkie Bantams of different colors. Red ones, white ones, black ones, and multi-colored ones. Happy again I saved these chicks from a life of misery, and, off for home we headed.
(Really, I am getting to the point of the story). I offered to share some of these new chicks with my neighbors. They got chickens a year before we did and my neighbor also wanted some "fun chickens", one for each of her four children aside from their meat and layers. Her husband always dismissed the idea and of course that's where I said "Since when is he the boss of you....you can have whatever kind of chickens you want". And so it was settled, they would take four of the cute little fuzz balls.
We did not know the sex of the chicks when we got them. Nor, did we know how to tell what they would be. No one really wanted to get stuck with a crowing rooster that woke them up at the crack of dawn everyday. Well, I didn't mind if I had one, I can't hear, so wasn't going to bother me. But with the luck that the neighbors have (quite similar to mine) they ended up with two roosters and I got all the hens. For once, my luck seemed to be where it belonged...on the positive side.
I learned I was not just satisfied with chickens, I wanted A. a turkey to raise for Thanksgiving and B. to hatch my own eggs. I first tried to buy fertilized eggs and hatch them in an incubator. Within a week's time I blew up four incubators...NOT KIDDING...well not kidding on the last one I purchased, that one yes, I literally blew up, the other three just died an hour or so after turning them on. Hatching chickens, turkeys or game hens was not to be apparently. God was telling me, this is not your calling, and so stop wasting money on incubators. I gave up. I still however, wanted a turkey and I still wanted baby chicks.
So, off on another adventure we went at the very beginning of spring. I called my friend (who is from Seattle Washington and NOT a farm girl in the least either) and asked her if she wanted to go turkey shopping Sat. morning. She quickly said yes....knowing it was going to be quite an adventure since it was A. me she was going with, and B. who would turn up the chance at turkey shopping???? I awoke that Saturday morning, and got ready, a little disheartened at the fact it was raining ice that morning, but I was determined to go to the Weyauwega Poultry Swap. No, I had never been to a poultry swap and had no idea what to expect when I got there. A fact I quickly pointed out to my city friend so that in case it was a complete disaster, she knew I did not know what I was getting us into, nor do I ever, when I am heading off on such escapades.
I woke my four year old early that morning to get ready and head out. I said "we are going to go turkey shopping today! Won't that be fun??". He looked at me and replied "MOM, you don't BUY a turkey, you SHOOT a turkey!". A little too much education for a four year old? Maybe, but might as well train him right from the start, since he is the son of an avid hunter, but I said "Not today! We are going to buy one". And off we headed to the fair grounds.
Sadly, there were no turkeys for sale. BUT, there was a pair of the most adorable baby pygmy goats I had ever seen. THANK GOODNESS for my husband's sake they were $300.00 or he would have come home from work that morning to our "farming establishment" to being more than just chickens....I am a total sucker for anything baby and cute....but, we left empty handed and it was decided I would just buy a baby turkey from the Feed Mill.
I still, however, have not given up hope for the baby chickens that I would raise myself from the egg and decided I needed a rooster to put with my cute Silkie Fuzzy Chickens and watch them sit on and mother their eggs as nature intended. Now, where would I get a rooster?
OH YEAH...the chickens that I gave to the neighbors ended up being roosters....so bright and early Monday morning on my way home from the school I decided I was going to chicken-nap the roosters. Just stoop to a new low and steal them right out of their coop. So I pulled into their driveway, knowing no one would be home, and jumped out of the van headed for the coop. I grabbed a pull-ups box out of my van and grabbed one rooster and stuck it in the box and quickly closed it and put it into the van. But, how many roosters did I need? I wasn't sure, so thought, well, I'll just take them both and back to the coop I went. Grabbed the rooster and realized I did not have a second box to put it in. Oh, well, I'll just hold it I thought and jumped into the van. A chicken is not like a cat or a dog....they don't just lay in your lap and they don't calm when petted whatsoever. What was that I saw them doing at the poultry swap? They would get a chicken from the cage and hold on to it by it's legs and turn it upside down and it just hung there peacefully....THAT was what I was going to do. I think that only works for chickens....roosters...in a minivan...not so much. There was skwacking, feathers flapping, beak trying to peck me....but I was going to bring this rooster home and so I rolled down the window held it upside down by it's legs and drove the short distance home with the poor fellow flapping in the wind. I wonder what it looked like to the cars passing by as I drove across the road to my driveway with a rooster hanging upside down out the window. OH DANG, now I had a witness to my thievery...
Well, what does one do when they kidnap (or in this case rooster nap something...they leave a ransom note). So after getting the roosters in the coop, I needed to write a ransom note and thought about it all day....crafting the perfect note. (I am a bit of a joker...). So, I sat down at the table and used a crayon (I didn't have time to cut the letters from newspapers and magazines, to make it a true ransom note, they would be returning home soon). So with a bright red crayon, I wrote: We have the boys!! Come up with the dough or BAWK off with their heads". (I laughed and laughed....I'm kind of funny....)
I don't know if it got a laugh out of the neighbors or not, but I did get a text saying "I'm not paying for roosters...keep them". They didn't call the cops on me, and so far have not stolen anything of ours yet...I can't believe they don't want a dog or two.....but they haven't but I'm sure the day is coming soon when I will feel the wrath of payback. This isn't the first time I have played a joke on our neighbors....I did put a pile of white rocks at the end of their driveway which supposedly signals the world they are swingers (who knew???)....I'm sure payback is coming...when I least expect it, and well, quite frankly, I say BRING IT!
So now, I have my roosters, the chickens I want and so far...no chicken mothering is going on yet. In fact, I have no idea if the roosters are even doing their job...I don't have any idea how to tell. My husband did say, that he walked down there and saw a hen on the back of a hen though....leave it to me to end up with lesbian chickens!
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