Holy Cow!

There is really no reason for me to title this post, "Holy Cow!" but when you have a new cow it is pretty much a given that there will be a "Holy Cow!" joke in there at some point, so I figured I should just get it out of the way now.  I guess I could have titled it, "Oh la Vache!"  since I am going to Paris in two weeks sans enfants.  I had to sneak that in as well so you all feel really jealous.

This has been a crazy week at the farmette.  Spring is here according to the calendar but not according to the white out conditions outside my window.  Earlier in the week I did a 180 into a snow bank on my way to school.  Luckily we were going so slow that no one was hurt but James Dean decided he wanted to take the bus the next morning.

Here are some other highlights of the week:

I took a full-time job at the boys' school because A: The husband just quit his job to start his own company and while $11,000 is not going to keeps us in diamonds and furs, I can probably buy some groceries or as I discovered from the business manager, I may earn just enough to afford health insurance for the family B: I like having an inside track on what is going on with my kids education and C: I have a hard time saying no.

It is a pretty sobering thought that a minimum wage job can only earn you just enough for health insurance.  Those asshole politicians who claim that the minimum wage doesn't need to be raised because those jobs are held by teenagers or people who are not the primary bread winners in a family should come meet the teacher's aide who works three jobs to support herself or the certified substitute teacher who sometimes does janitorial work in the evening to support her family.

I could write some pretty entertaining stories about working in Scrappy Doo's kindergarten class, but I don't think it would be ethical and would probably get me fired, so suffice to say I started out the week with a kid who had a nose bleed that made the room look like a crime scene and ended it with a kid who pooped her pants.

Noelle is doing great although her enthusiasm and affection can be a little scary at times.  I decided that I can't let her smell my fear though so I use my angry mommy voice when she starts trying to eat my sweatshirt or stops stubbornly when I take her out for a walk. So far it seems to be working and after a session of, "who's the boss?"  she usually becomes very docile and loving and we stand forehead to forehead as I pat her and talk softly to her.  Cow breath is surprisingly pleasant.

I have started reading a book called, "Keeping a Family Cow" by Joann Grohman.  It is an interesting book even if you don't own a cow although she is rather opinionated and doesn't seem to have much respect for vegans.  The book did make me realize that in order to live the sustainable life I dream of, we have to be meat eaters. At some point chickens stop laying eggs and will have to go into the soup pot.  In order to have milk and cheese Noelle will have to get pregnant pretty much every year and if it's a boy he will end up in the freezer.

I have grappled with this inevitability but I know we cannot rely solely on my garden to sustain us.  Between the rocky soil and the pests, we would have to live on arugula and blueberries.  Plus, since I am committed to doing things organically, I amend the soil with manure which means animals are involved no matter what.

So, the meat eating life is in my foreseeable future. It will be difficult to butcher steers or chickens we have raised, but I think having that connection to our food will make us appreciate these creatures who sustain us even more and  hopefully never buy factory farm meat again.  I am not a religious person, but I am sure I will be giving thanks the first time I eat a hamburger from my own beef.

OK. I am done being Debbie Downer and can move on to the husband who is a treasure trove of funny anecdotes.

The husband decided to go visit his brother from another mother, Amish Eldin last weekend.  Eldin has become quite the Amish mogul.  His construction business is booming and he just purchased a sawmill which made the husband VERY jealous.  The husband went over to supposedly buy some locust  fence posts but I think he just wanted to visit Eldin. Locust wood is the strongest wood there is according to Eldin and the posts should last many years. The husband came back several hours later with the posts, a bunch of canning jars, a new Amish straw hat and supplies for the chicks he decided we should get from the Feed and Seed near Eldin.

I have been waiting for the weather to warm up a bit to get a few new chicks.  Two chickens do not provide enough eggs for a family of five so I thought if we got four or five more, we should have plenty of eggs for ourselves, even during the winter when egg production slows down.  The husband handed me the list of different breeds the Feed and Seed would be getting in and told me to decide which I wanted.  He had decided we should also get some meat birds and then he disappeared upstairs to go design some new chicken tractor for them.

I started doing some research and decided on The Golden Comet, Araucana, Australorp and Maran. Golden Comets and Australorp are the best layers. Araucanas lay the bluish greenish eggs and Marans lay dark brown eggs that look like chocolate.

Faverolles and Sussex were my choice for the meat birds because they are supposed to be the tastiest. I originally wanted the Cornish Rock meat birds even though I have heard their meat is not the best, because they are rather unattractive and are rumored to be lazy layabouts without much personality.  I thought that would make it easier to butcher them.  It is surprising how attached you can become to chickens.  They are very amusing and have quirky personalities.  I agreed to the Faverolles if the boys could give presidential pardons to three of their favorites.  They are really beautiful and friendly according to Backyard Chicken magazine.

I gave the husband my list and went outside to play with Noelle.  When I came back in he told me he placed the order and we would be getting 100 chickens.  No, I did not accidentally type an extra 0.  He ordered 100 chickens.  So much for the small self sustaining farm.  We were now chicken farmers. Since some of my choices for layers were hard to find he had to special order them and they only came in  groups of 10 so he decided instead of just choosing 1 breed he would order 10 of each breed I wanted. He then decided we should have 50 meat birds.  Now, I like a nice roast chicken but I am not sure I can butcher and pluck 50 chickens.

The next day at school I told two women in the lunchroom about our order and their jaws dropped.  Both ladies have chickens and have offed their own roasters but they were dumbfounded by the idea of trying to butcher 50 chickens.  I was informed that it is a very tedious process and can take an hour or more per chicken from start to finish.  Hmmm.  50 hours butchering chickens.  Sounds like a really good time.

I called the husband immediately when I got home and pleaded with him to greatly reduce his order.  He reluctantly agreed that we should probably start with far fewer birds since our only experience with butchering a chicken was a Youtube video featuring this crazy chicken lady who sings to her chickens and prays with them before she breaks their necks.

So that was my week.  Please come visit us at the farmette soon.  First 25 visitors get to take home a baby chick or maybe a kitten.  Itty Bitty Kitty is pregers.  Stay tuned for more on that.