Looking Back and Moving On, Part 3

Back in January, I was cheering about how both hives of bees had SURVIVED the winter! I was premature. Spring came, first flow was starting, and the bees were buzzing away. And a week later, there were dead bees on the porch of one of the hives, and in the grass. The ones in the hive were sluggish and slow, and nobody was flying. And 3 days later, they were all dead. And that had been our STRONG hive. Our best guess is that they found an attractive source of nectar or pollen that had been sprayed with an insecticide, and the whole hive was busy collecting poison. It's also possible that some of them starved in the midst of plenty, as we had provided food over the winter, but this hive hadn't seemed to notice. The hive stood empty for awhile. Then the other hive swarmed. Thousands of bees were coating the branches of the peach tree next to the hives. I got a cardboard box and the ladder. We swept the bees into the box, and watched as some of the workers started fanning the queen's pheromones from the edge of the box, saying "Here she is! Come home!" The circling bees started settling into the cardboard box. We walked away for a few minutes to give them a chance to collect into the box. When we came back, they were all gone. But the hive seemed to have just as many bees as ever. Did they all decide to move back IN?

Looking Back and Moving On, Part 2

I had trimmed back an overhanging branch at the coop. We were trying to put the chickens away more promptly. But we didn't really know what to do NOW, since we couldn't identify the killer. One evening, with the boys off with friends for the weekend, Debbie and I went out for dinner and a movie. We got home after dark. The killer had struck again. Two more chickens--one DEAD, which is the normal state for being HEADLESS--and the other badly injured, and again destined to die overnight. Our egg production, once 3 dozen per week, dropped to 1 dozen. The roosters keep eating, just as much as before. The surviving hens have lost feathers. And we STILL don't know what is killing them.

Looking Back and Moving On, Part 1

I used to joke about having SO many eggs, we should eat a couple of the hens. As it turned out, something beat me to it. When spring came, and the days started getting longer, we didn't always get the chickens cooped before dark. So, about 9:00 PM one fine night, I heard the chickens making noise--which was odd, since they're usually bedded down by then. I ran out to the coop--perhaps I had a premonition?--and found that two chickens had been badly injured, and two more had lost large patches of feathers. The fifth and sixth were hiding behind a rooster in the coop. It's the only service that the roosters have ever done for us ;-) I got them all into the coop. I was scared, and angry, and sad. I didn't expect the injured chickens to live. I was right. One died that night, and the other the next. I should probably have put them out of their misery earlier. How the hell should I know? Now, there's no holes UNDER the fence, and there's no holes IN the fence. But there's no FENCE over the hole on the top. I'm pretty sure something came in from overhead, and left the same way. Problem is, I have NO idea what it was. It may have been a raccoon, or it may have been a raptor bird. But I'm pretty sure it wasn't fox or skunk. It has to climb or fly.

The Lost Blog Entry

Buried on my netbook, I found the following file, from 25 November 2010. Since we had the biggest storm of the season (so far!), it seems reasonable to resurrect it for your reading pleasure!

Well, it's November and winter is coming. If it's anything like LAST winter, we will spend a fair amount of time stuck in the house with the snow.

You remember, we have a 1/4 mile long driveway, and last winter we had to pay $500 to get it plowed. THIS year, however, we have a TRACTOR.

We purchased a second-hand 27 HP Cub Cadet with a front-end loader. We are shopping for a bush-hog mower, a tiller-cultivator, and a plow-blade attachment for the 3-point hitch. But we haven't even had reason to drive it around, which will make it more problematic when/if it snows. I don't think I should learn to drive it in the snow.

Of course, since we HAVE the tractor, we won't NEED the tractor. I predict the warmest winter ever, which will also give more fuel to the Anthrogenic Global Warming advocates. I don't particularly care about AGW--if we were reducing pollution in general, we would be reducing carbon in specific, which is Just A Good Idea. And the number 1 greenhouse gas released into the atmosphere? It's that hazardous chemical, dihydrous monoxide (DHMO).

In other words, water vapor.

If we were to move to hydrogen fuel cell vehicles, we would end up trading CO2 for H2O. We don't actually KNOW what the results of that would be. We only suspect it would be an improvement.

We might as well create legislation to restrict cow farts.

Methane is another potent greenhouse gas, and grain-fed beef makes lots of methane. "Henceforth, all beef cattle must be grass-fed or fed a diet to minimize the output of methane. Furthermore, all cattle must be individually fitted with an Automated Collection and Methane Extraction (ACME) system, and each individual shall be indelibly tattooed with its methane creation license number, as issued by the Department of Homeland Flatulence, the Social Security Number or Taxpayer Identification of its owner, and the production records of each individual shall be submitted to the DHF. Overproduction shall be cause for termination of the genetic line. All costs will be borne by the owner of the cattle..."

OK, maybe not. But I wouldn't be surprised.

So that's the lost blog. I used the tractor this morning to plow that 1/4 mile driveway, and it has actually been a fairly COLD winter. Go figure.

Still Alive!

This was a triumph!

I'm making a note here: HUGE SUCCESS! It's hard to overstate my satisfaction!

The bees (now that I'm done channeling GLADos ;-) are still alive and buzzing in BOTH our hives.

One hive hasn't even touched the sugar we put out, while the other (see the picture?) has carved away the mountain and taken the newspaper with it.

But they're still alive!

TRAPPED! With the Chickens, Part III

OK, what were the alternatives? Walls. Floor. Roof. Windows. Door.

To get through the walls, he'd have to knock loose dozens of nails and whole sheets of plywood. The floor was even less likely--he was on the wrong side, he'd have to PULL nails, and there wasn't THAT much room under the coop.

The roof would be hard to get any force applied, and more expensive to fix--new plywood, new tar paper, new shingles. And the windows were already too small.

But the door...

The latch was only held by 2 screws on the door side, and 3 on the latch. If he kicked the door, HARD, something HAD to give.

1... 2... 3!

On the second kick, the door sprang open. He was free!

He inspected the latch. Sure enough, the string was wrapped below the latch. And now the latch was bent, too.

He inspected the door. Every screw on both parts of the latch had held. But the steel post, as thick as his pinky, was bent back 45 degrees. THAT impressed him. Either it was a very MANLY kick, or really WIMPY steel.

Probably wimpy steel.

"G'night, ladies!" he called to the chickens as he closed the door and leaned the ramp up against it. This one was going to have to go in the blog, no question about it.

No question at all.

TRAPPED! With the Chickens, Part II

What had happened?

Steve's best guess was that the string, which was several inches too long, had wrapped itself UNDER the latch. So, every time he pulled the string to lift the latch, he was pulling it down tighter.

He looked around. The walls were all attached, although he supposed he COULD break through one, given time. The windows were jalousie-style, and much too small for him anyway.

He was over 200 feet away from the house. Debbie wouldn't hear him shouting, although the dogs might...

"What's that, Sadie? You say daddy is stuck in the chicken coop? And he's cold?! And his LEG is BROKEN and he needs a shot of INSULIN!?!"

"Woof! Woof!"

Too much to hope for.

He was planning to put a wireless phone extension in the barn, but that wouldn't help him in the chicken coop. If he had his netbook or his PDA, he could try to email for help--he might be in range of the Wi-Fi, there weren't any OTHER networks around to interfere.

And if he were a hen, he could lay eggs.

He remembered that Debbie hadn't waved as he went out. Had she seen him go? He remembered how tired she looked--what if she went to bed? Worse yet, what if she woke up and couldn't FIND him?

He knew exactly how she would react.

She would quickly become convinced he had suffered a heart attack, and was laying somewhere, dead. Panic would ensue.

He had to get out of this alone, and he had to do it soon.