Nutcracking Nuthatches!

This morning I was able to catch on film something I've seen a number of times before (but never had a camera readily available until today.) We have several feeders on our back porch, and I have my desk by the window so I can look down onto them and watch the birds when I am working.

Today I caught a Nuthatch using part of our porch to hold a black oil sunflower seed in place so that it could crack it open to get at the meat inside. I feel very luck to have caught this wonderful behavior on film!

Here's the Nuthatch perched on the porch railing:

He (or she?) grabs a sunflower seed, and jams it into a nailhead hole in the railing:

Then using his long sturdy beak, he pounds at it until the shell is removed:

And then pecks out the white nut meat inside:

Amazing use of avian intelligence (and our aging porch railing) to get at the inside of the seed! Nuthatches are brother B's favorite bird, and I thought he'd like to see this series of one of those clever birdies in action today. This one's for you B. XOXO

Chicks, Hens, and Daylight

A box of chicks ready to be shipped.
The green stuff is "Grow Gel" that
keeps them hydrated during the trip.

A dear friend of mine commented about a Facebook post this morning, asking me "There's a chick season?" She had thought I was hatching and shipping chicks out to customers now. While in theory, I could, I choose not to this time of year. Here's my reply to her (hi Zen!)

Yep, there's a "chick season." Egg production ebbs and flows with the length of daylight, which also coincides with temperature. Hens, especially in natural environments, usually take a break in laying when the days get short and it gets cold (it makes no sense for them to have chicks then, natch.)

They lay more in the spring, as the days get longer and it gets warmer. If I wanted to hatch now, I'd have to put lights on in their coops to give them a minimum of 14 hours of daylight a day. I choose not to do that.

Hens are born with all the eggs they will ever lay stored up in their tiny newborn chick ovaries. As they grow, their laying pattern will be dictated by their genetics and their environment. If they are bred for production, as in the common White Leghorn or Golden Comet or Black Star, they will start laying sooner, at around four months, and will provide the best "feed to lay ratio" of any breed of chicken. This means that they produce the most eggs for the least amount of feed, which is why they are commonly used by large production farms to lay eggs for commercial markets.

A White Leghorn in with
some Buckeyes in the snow.

We have about six White Leghorns, left over from A's 4-H project this past summer. Those girls lay up a storm, and at this point, when the light is lowest and temps are cold, are still laying. We're glad of that, as it means we don't have to buy grocery store eggs (we're spoiled, I admit.)

Our heritage birds, the Buckeyes, start laying a little later in their lives (at about five months), and lay between 150 and 200 eggs per year (as compared to a Leghorn, which can lay up to 300 or more!)
They have all but stopped laying at this point. I don't mind, as I feel it's a good thing to give them a rest, and I want to keep the hens as long as possible. If you put lights on birds, you force them to use up all their available eggs that much sooner, and they become "spent" hens at age two or three. I like to keep my Buckeyes until they are four at least, as an older hen will lay a larger egg, and that will produce a larger, healthier chick. So I don't force my birds to lay when they'd rather not. It just seems more "natural" to me that way.

"Or the horse may talk..."

We got the official news last night, the company where my husband works is shutting down the print facility of which he is Operations Manager. He and some 200+ others will be losing their jobs in the 4th quarter of 2012. (We had initially heard the numbers were higher, and are glad it's not 300, but J is still one of those who will be looking for work.)

J is almost 61. We were hoping his career would carry him through to retirement (we are not ready yet.) He's been in the newspaper industry for more than 40 years, it's all he's done in one form or another, all his life. My job, as lovely as it is, will in no way provide enough income for us to retire now. And by this time next year we'll have not one but two children in college.

It's an interesting time to be middle-aged, interesting ala the Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times." I grew up in the 60s and 70s, and once married my mom didn't have to work. She kept house, and did an inordinate amount of volunteer work all her life. I wanted to live a life like hers, and to an extent, I have. I gave up a lucrative career to stay at home and raise my children. Oh, I've always done some part-time work or another all along, mostly computer related. But never full time, and never outside the house. So for me to try to re-enter the workplace now, in the midst of the worst recession in decades, is not particularly viable. But I've tried, applied for jobs I know I could do well, at a salary far, far below what I ever made even 25 years ago. But so far have found nothing.

An old expression I've always believed in is "Do what you love, and the money will follow." What I do now, working with the amazing collection of vintage ephemera that my mother left behind when she died, is amazing, satisfying, and just my dream job. I love it. I'd like to keep doing it. But will I be able to? I dunno.

It's not like we haven't dealt with this sort of thing before, sadly. In 2002, when the economy tanked and businesses were pulling back, my husband was told the giant print facility he was to build and run wasn't going to happen, and the company he worked for then let him go. Prior to that, a paper he worked for brought in a new publisher who systematically fired every single middle manager she had, J included, for no good reason other than she could.

So it's a situation we've been in before, and have made it though. And each time what came after was always better than what had been before: better job, better home, better life. So I have faith that the same thing will hold true this time. It's just the "getting through" it all that can be stressful. In times like these, I am reminded of a story my family told when we were growing up, often enough so that the tagline has become enough to bring the whole thing home. It goes like this:

A man had offended the king, and was sentenced to death. He fell to his knees before the king and implored, "Oh your majesty! Spare me but for one year, and I will teach your horse to talk!" The king was amazed, and granted his wish.

The man's close friend and brother upbraided him, saying, "Why did you make such an absurd promise?"

The man shrugged and replied, "In a year, the king may die. In a year, I may die. In a year, the horse may talk!"

The point of the story being, one never knows what will happen in the future. Something amazing could happen that you'd never consider. And since we've been given time (nine months to a year) to figure this all out, who knows what could happen? Hell, the horse may talk!

At any rate, despite all the ups and downs of the past year, our family wishes all of you a very happy holiday, whichever one you celebrate (and even if you don't,) and we send you light and love, and hopes for peace and joy in the coming year.

Teach Our Children Well...

Last week I got a call from daughter A's FFA teacher at school asking if I could come in and make a presentation on what it's like to be a poultry farmer. Now, strictly speaking, I'm not a "poultry farmer." When I hear that term, I think of the folks who own the big battery farms, and raise ten thousand broilers or laying hens. That's definitely not me. I told Ms. W that, and she said it was fine, she just wanted to give the kids some idea of what it's like to raise poultry. That I can do!

Production White Leghorn

So in I went today to make a presentation. I had nothing prepared, no notes or Powerpoint, just a chicken. I had grabbed up one of our Production White Leghorns (which A got for her 4-H project and County Fair this past summer.) Popped the hen into a crate and off to school I went. I've done lots of presentations and demos in my life, so winging it was just fine with me, I can extemporize with the best of 'em, on any number of topics (being able to spout bs at length and sound like you know what you're talking about is a gift, not a skill, I'm just lucky that way.)

Off we went, the chicken and me, up to school where I did my presentation for a 7th grade class (when did 7th graders get so old looking, by the way?) We live in a very rural area, and I admit I was surprised at how few of the kids in the class live on farms, only 2 out of the 25 in the room. Most of the kids were from "in town", and few had ever gotten close to a live chicken. It brought home to me how disconnected most of us are from how our food is raised (those of us who eat meat, that is), as the average 7th grader really only thinks of chicken as something that comes as a nugget, or is wrapped in plastic in the case at the grocery store. I think this is a Very Bad Thing.

Fresh eggs are so much better than store-bought!

Part of my presentation was to answer eight questions the kids had on a worksheet, and as we worked our way through the sheet several things became clear. The first was, the kids were eager to display what they did know about chickens (several weeks earlier A had done a presentation for the class on a different breed we raise, called Buckeyes.) Most of them were happy to share what they already knew, and were interested in learning more about what it takes to raise chickens. We talked about doing chores; every day, twice a day, sometimes three times a day if it's really hot and the animals need extra water. One of the questions was "What is the hardest part about raising chickens/living on a farm?", to which I replied "Finding someone reliable and knowledgeable enough to do chores if we want to go on vacation" which surprised many of them. But the thing I came away with, is that most of those kids would be perfectly happy to not ever be a farmer. And that makes me sad.

Children in our communities need to get more involved with production of their food, not less. We need to have more community gardens, more cooperative animal projects, not fewer. Kids need to get dirt under their fingernails, mud on their shoes, pull an egg out from under a chicken on the nest, to really appreciate what it means to raise food, to connect with the process. We do our children a disservice if we keep them from that, raise them to think food comes from Wal-Mart or Kroger, rather than the back yard, or the neighbor's farm. I have no answers, just concerns. How do we reconnect people to the food they eat? I wish I knew. But I think it needs to happen, somehow.

Birding by ear

One of my earliest memories as a child is of lying on my stomach on the floor of the living room of our second house, the one I grew up in. It was spring, and my mother had purchased some small albums of bird songs, to learn to identify them. Mom loved that house and yard, it was mostly wooded, and filled with various critters. I think that must have been where she began her love of birding, and it spilled over onto me.

Mourning Dove

In the mornings now, when I let the dogs out after breakfast, I often stand on the back porch and just listen. Look as well, of course, but so much birding can be done by ear, and if you have a good one you can identify many breeds that you would seldom see.

This summer I saved my pennies and finally splurged on a set of birding by ear modules, which I downloaded into my iPod. Being the bird nerd that I am I often listen to them while driving or sometimes while I work (although it is odd when I accidentally hit the Shuffle button and have the Dave Matthews Band followed by bird sounds of the Southern New Jersey Salt Marshes.)

Ruby-Throated Hummingbird

This morning I could tell something large was moving through the back woods. Not because I could hear it myself (my ears aren't quite that good), but because I could hear the various watchdog birds letting the forest know that a predator was on the move. It might have been a fox, or perhaps coyote, but whatever it was, it had the Jays and Crows in an uproar, and several Flickers flew north complaining loudly as they left.

The Hummingbirds at the feeders were too busy stocking up for their long flight south to pay much attention, and the House Sparrows and Starlings and Robins just went about their business as usual. An Indigo Bunting sat atop a tree and called "Sit, Sit, Sit, Sit", several Barn Swallows dipped and dove, and most of the morning sounds were normal. But I knew something was back there, just from the sounds.

Earlier in the morning a doe with her triplets came close to the house to browse, and seemed unworried. And although I've heard Black Bears are back in KY now, I've yet to see one. My bet is a fox, although if they're smart they'll stay in the woods, as our Livestock Guardian Dog Toby has no patience with foxes near his goats.

Song Sparrow

Eventually the noise died down, and whatever it was had moved along. I went back into the house and back to work, leaving the Hummers to squabble and cuss the morning away.

Life is funny

As I sit here on a muggy, overly hot Sunday in Kentucky, I am bemused by life's coincidences. I am listening to my "Bluegrass" custom channel on Pandora (which I love!) and loading music onto my iPhone from my CDs.

It's interesting, when I think of it, that I wound up in Kentucky. I grew up in Ohio, and my mother's family has lived there for many years, since 1847, when my great, great, great grandfather Jabez Vodrey moved there. Jabez came to America in 1827, seeking to start a pottery here. For ten years he lived in Louisville, KY, and his sons (including my great, great-grandfather William) were born in Kentucky, and spent their early childhood in Louisville before moving to Ohio.

As a child I have memories of lying on the floor of my grandfather's home, listening to music. My grandfather adored music of all kinds, from classical (he had a special love of Bach) to Bluegrass. I can only wonder what happened to all those albums he had, wish I knew who it was I listened to. I remember being told it was early Appalachia music, it was very spare and plain, not a lot of production (this would have been in the early 1960s, and the albums were likely very old.)

My grandfather.

It's funny that I now live in Kentucky, and have such a love of Bluegrass, as I was a solid rock and roll grrl growing up. Funny how life comes full circle in so many ways. Funny how I can feel my grandfather nodding with approval at the music I am playing (I like to think he would have loved having an iPod!)

Life is just funny...

Mrs. Peters Chocolate Chess Pie

Yesterday was the first day of summer (although here in KY it feels like summer a lot sooner than the end of June, I assure you.) Both C and A have been working this vacation, and C is taking time off to go to the beach house owned by my maternal relatives and me in Nags Head, NC. I've been going to the beach since I was six months old, and being 53, that's a long time. I've seen things change over the years on the Outer Banks, many of which are less than pleasing.

View from the front porch at dawn.

As a child summering at the beach, life was so simple. Nags Head was not a popular vacation spot then, and the island was relatively undeveloped. There was no "French Fry Alley", no chain grocery store, no Wal-Mart (perish the thought!) If you wanted groceries you went to Harris's, where Mr. Harris ground his beef by hand, twice! When I was very young, there were only two stoplights on the whole island. A far cry from what it is now. But I can still go to the cottage, put my feet up on the front porch railing, and look at the sea, forgetting how built up it is, thank goodness. 

As a teen, I was privileged to meet Mrs. William Peters (Louise), who was affectionately called Wheezy by her friends. Her family owned the cottage three south of ours, and she had five sons. She was one of the old breed of southern women, who would move to the beach for the whole summer with her kids, her husband staying in the city to work, only visiting on weekends. My mother recalled meeting her at Harris's grocery store one day, where mom complained that the way we all ate, she had to shop every day! Mrs. Peters looked at her and plaintively said "Only once a day?"

We met because of her little Beagle dog (whose name I forget), which had been in a fight with another dog. My friend R and I took him home to her, and she brought us into the cottage, plunked us down in front of the television (a rarity at the beach at that time) and gave us cool glasses of lemonade. She told us all about her family, including her sons (of course, we were teens then) and generally was the epitome of southern graciousness.

Louise "Wheezy" Peters

I got to know her better as the summer went on and our mutual affection grew. She had no daughters, and took me under her wing, treating me with love and affection (it didn't hurt that I wound up dating one of her sons for about a year.) Being a southern woman, she cooked all the time. She had many recipes for traditional southern foods, and one special dessert recipe that she shared with me. I've made it over the years for special occasions, and it is a family favorite. The recipe is really very simple, based on a Chess Pie, but with chocolate added. Here it is, in memory of Wheezy Peters, a truly gracious Southern Lady:

Wheezy Peters' Chocolate Chess Pie
(serves eight)

Ingredients:

• 1 stick butter
• 2 squares unsweetened baking chocolate (or 5 TBSP cocoa)
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 cup white sugar
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 2 tsp. vanilla
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• Unbaked 9" pie crust

Melt the butter together with the chocolate and place in a medium bowl. Add the brown and white sugar, mix until smooth. Fold in the eggs, the vanilla, and the salt.
Bake in the unbaked pie crust for 25 to 30 minutes at 350 degrees until the top poufs up, and/or a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream. To die for!

NB: if you're using 9 1/2 inch pie pans, increase the ingredients to match. I use the following for two 9 1/2 inch pans:

• 2 1/2 sticks butter
• 5 squares chocolate
• 1 1/4 cups brown sugar
• 1 1/4 cups white sugar
• 5 eggs
• 5 tsp vanilla
• 1/2 and 1/18 tsp salt.