Last Strawflowers of Summer

Phil and the two older boys went out this morning to move the cows from the neighbor's land to the north to the neighbor's land to the south, heading through the apple orchard, across the driveway, and through the peach orchard (passing the confused small flock of remaining sheep).

The cows stood and greedily grazed at the sprouted ryegrass in the orchard. Within about ten minutes, they had trimmed the four inch growth to an even inch, so Phil had me stand at the back to gently apply pressure from behind, while he walked ahead. The cows follow him at this point, and although naughty Cleo got out for a few minutes, and the two bull babies also didn't take the prescribed route, the entire move through the orchard took very little time. I mentioned to Phil that the cows have learned to trust him. He replied, "Or at least have a proper Pavlovian response." He's probably more accurate.

All the cows are growing their shaggy winter coats, and the bull babies are looking especially downy.

I went down to check on the bees. They aren't eating a full quart a day anymore most days, so I didn't need to feed them, but checking their varroa mite level, the hive needed a treatment. A quick bit of research showed that October is still a good month to treat, so I took the mouse guard off the entrance, opened the top, and then flexed my muscles to take off what had been the Celadon hive, now combined to make the second deep of our one hive.

I was so happy to feel the difference a month, and a strong queen, makes. A month ago when I moved the Celadon hive over, it was light and easily lifted. Now I can hardly pick it up. A full deep weighs around 50 pounds, and I would not doubt it. I removed the traces of paper between the different deeps, put the mite pads in place, and reassembled the hive. It felt relaxed and happy, despite an amazing amount of bees hovering near the entrance of the hive.

Phil and I finished rolling up the T-Tape, fairly easy now that the birds have scratched and mown the growth. He mowed some remaining weeds with the tractor.

In one section, the weeds grew unmolested all year. Now that I transplanted out the asparagus, Phil mowed it happily.

What a difference!

While Phil mowed, Isaiah caught a chicken and brought it back to the pen.

And the three other boys tended the bonfire they had played with much of the day.

It was a marvelous Friday evening. Everyone acting so in character, so happy. I wonder enough if this life has been worth it. Moments like that make me think it has.

And then, because Phil intended to mow my flowers, I harvested a large armful of strawflowers and asked Isaiah to take some photos. He was especially proud of this one, in which he patiently waited and subtly turned the camera in order to frame a Barred Rock chicken between my legs. Impressive!

Bitsy came over to join the action, so she got to be in some photos, too.

After dark, Phil, Isaiah, and I rounded up the remaining rogue chickens, all the ducks except our favorite little Mallard, all the original Rhode Island Red hens, all the chicks-turned-hens hatched on our land (except for the rooster born here), the three guinea hens (now two years on the farm). And, since we found only three brown eggs in the laying boxes today, produced from the 15 Barred Rock chickens and, perhaps, the old Rhode Island Reds, we rounded up those slackers, too. We put those 53 total into the broiler pen, and intend to do a major processing tomorrow.

I don't know if we will kill the Barred Rocks tomorrow. I think Phil would prefer to wait a day or two, to see if the Barred Rocks actually lay better in captivity. That is probably prudent.

But considering we get 14 or so eggs from our 16 Leghorns every day, those Barred Rocks are extremely less productive.