Spring Babies

As the temperature warms and the sun shows up in the sky for more hours in the day, things on the farm begin to change. We had a rough winter for our chicken flock and I was waiting for those two things to happen so I could add baby chicks to the farm. Now it is here and so are the babies, but I thought I would update you on how we got here and the lessons we learned.

We had experienced a few seperate issues that got us to this point.

Hawk attacks…On two separate occasions haws got into our chicken run! Wanna know how? Human error! It was not the hawks fault or the chickens fault so much as it was our fault. There was an entire section of the run not covered in fencing. Hawk flew right in, attached the smallest chicken, my only remaining hen, and then struggled so hard to escape through a different section of the fence it ended up injuring it’s wing all while the 2 roosters and other hen watched from the other side of the run. The second hawk attack was similar, a section of the fencing not attached well to the frame of the run. (anyone see a theme here?) The interesting thing about both attacks is that we had been watching whese 2 giant hawks hunting a mole in our pasture for weeks, worried about them and the chickens. But those two didn’t do it! It was 2 smaller, adolescent hawks that made it into the chicken run. Now, we have gaurdian owls!

New, Homemade, Made from Pallet Wood Coop and Run!

Perimeter Breaks…Wanna guess whose fault number 2 is? It follows the theme! When putting fencing around the perimeter of the run, there were these brace boards that caused the fencing to not sit flush with the board or staple close enough to the board. It created almost like a little tent between the board and the ground. Did we go back and fix that issue after the fencing was installed? Not soon enough! Something, still no idea what, managed to get under that area and pull out the 2 remaining chickens. I was able to follow a string of feathers to find this little fence tent that got left for nothing less than laziness.

Old age…This one isn’t our fault, but I learned a lot. A few years ago my oldest daughter brought home 4 chickens that she bought at Tractor Supply, completely without permission, of course, as she has done with all but 1 of her animals. I had no idea what type of chickens they were, still don’t really. If I had to hazard a guess, they were something like a Long-Island Red (we have had those before, but they were bigger and meaner that these girls were). The benefit was, they laid a ton of eggs! So I kinda forgave her after a while. In the last year we lost 2 hens for seemingly no reason. They didn’t seem sick or have any signs of problems. They just slowed down and one day were dead. I believe it was old age. Chickens can live to be 7 or 8, but when they lay eggs, especially large eggs every single day (these girls laid double yolks all the time) their life expectancy shortens. They are working too hard for their bodies to keep up. We have bread them to give us more of what we want, but less of what they can handle.

I waited for the weather to get warmer before I got new chickens because I don’t have anywhere in my home for a brooder. I Was considering getting older chickens, but found a local lady that breeds Silkies so I picked up 6. The breeder looked very well kept and the chickens seemed healthy. And yet, as I sit here, I have one baby that is not thriving. I have her sectioned off in a container by herself for a little extra warmth and am trying to get her to drink water through a syringe, but I have no idea if she will make it. Such is the #farmlife. It is always something and not for the faint of heart. But I wouldn’t trade it for any other #life in the world, #lakelife, #citylife, or whatever.

Barn Cats V2

About a year and a half ago, I wrote about our barn cat BoJangles who was missing. I lamented about the heart wrenching job it is to own barn cats with all the dangers and troubles on the farm. We worried about him all the time! He got into tons of scuffles and close calls. He fought every cat that came close to the property, very loudly and usually in the middle of the night. But he would curl up in your lap by the fire pit and purr for hours. I am sad that Bo never returned to us like we wished. A barn cannot be without cats for too long or the mice will overrun it and then the snakes show up. If you have never seen how a horse reacts to a snake in or around their stall, consider yourself protected. So we had to rescue 2 little kittens from under my mother’s HVAC unit in downtown Charlotte and bring them out to the farm.

Baby Kittens

This was a trick! February of 2023 my mother sends me this picture of tiny kittens under her HVAC unit and we go on and on about what to do with them. We call animal control and they can’t take them because they are full. I don’t think she even got an answer from them for like 2 weeks. We decide to leave them alone and monitor until they were big enough to be away from their mother. Momma Kitty moves them to the neighbors house, probably because my mother has one of the most obnoxious little dogs you could ever imagine. And I am on the farm just hoping and wishing BoJangles comes home.

Finally, in April, I decide that we are going to need a barn cat for the upcoming summer and I cannot keep holding out hope for Bo. He would have been home already if he could. He would never willingly leave his barn. Mom talks to her neighbor, who by this point has been feeding them tuna cans and says he can’t keep up with all of them. I agree to catch 2 and bring them to the barn and the neighbor will keep 2 while mom and dad are also still around. Have you ever tried to catch a feral kitten?? Pro tip…do it much more before they are 3 months old! It took us over an hour, moving a bunch of junk in the neighbors backyard, and one seriously determined teenager of mine with gloves and blankets, but we finally got them. Boy were they angry! I wish I had taken a video of that crazy teenager crawling around through junk to catch them!

Once we got them to the barn, I realize I have no idea what I’m doing! I have only had like 3 cats in my whole life and they were indoor only. You know, liter box and a pile of food and you may not see them for 4 days. These kittens were out in the wild, far away from their siblings, and there are dangerous things on our farm. I had to come up with a plan! I took it step by step. And everyone told me I was wrong! We started with them in a dog kennel in the tack room of the barn with a litter box and food. Once they got too big (and WAY too messy) I had to seal up the cat door on the tack room and let them out in the room. They hid all the time, sometimes so well I had to search for a while to find them. As they got a little older, and it turned colder in the winter, I would close the big barn doors and open the tack room door so they could play in the barn. They were super timid, but began to run around and play. They even started killing mice! I had a lovely present in the middle of the barn one morning.

As the weather warmed up and the kittens turned a year old, I knew I couldn’t keep them closed in the barn forever. And everyone still kept telling me I was wrong! That first day of opening the barn doors scared me to death! But I think it scared them even more! Pretty soon they were following me to the pasture as I took out and brought in horses. For a while, I closed the doors at night to keep them safe, but that had to end as the weather warmed. Mick and Chick now have full reign of the farm, but they don’t venture too far from the barn and the safety of each other and their tack room. They don’t cuddle by the fire like Bo, but they are my favorites. They watch the farm from the barn doors day and night, tell me long stories while I clean stalls, and keep all the rodents out of the barn. I can pet and snuggle Chick when she’s looking for food. Every now and then I get a little nose pet in on Mick. But they are still crazy and feral as can be.

I am impressed with myself how I figured this out. They are totally dedicated to that tack room in the barn being their home. Yes, there are scary things out here that could hurt, but they have a safe place to run to for protection. BoJangles used to come to our back door and play with the indoor cat through the sliding glass door. Mick and Chick barely come down the driveway most of the time. But maybe that will change with time. They are their own little adorable personalities. And this farm is theirs to manage. Bojangles left them a home and a role to step right into.

Mr. BoJangles

I learned a few lessons this past year from this experience. One, everything happens for a reason. Two, the way I do it may not be the same as the way others would do it, but this is my show not theirs. And three, the 3day/3 week/3 month rule we always talk about in animal rescue does not apply to feral cats!

Building Things

I absolutely love building things! What I have learned about myself in my last decade on Earth is that I truly enjoy figuring out how to do something myself. It brings me so much joy when I have an idea or plan and it works out! But what I’ve noticed the most is that my plan never works out exactly the way I plan it. There is always some variation that, inevitably, works out better. I have enjoyed learning the faith involved in that element of building. I have built a farm, a business, a family and a home. I have many plans to build many more things in my next decade. Building things takes a little knowledge, a bit of strategy, and a lot of faith.

My best example of building things, in real estate at least, is my current house. If you are not familiar, we built a new construction home on our existing farm. I had so many plans and ideas that didn’t work out! The biggest change that had to be made was in the location of the house. I wanted it placed in the woods on the other side of the creek. We built (and paid for) a culvert, an extra long drive way, and tons of gravel that gets absolutely no use today. But in the end, the house is perfect. We have a brand new home in a great location that gave us a ton of instant equity. I brought the knowledge of how to build the house using a contractor mainly from researching and working through a million different scenarios. We strategized the entire time, learning about land development, financing rules, and building issues. But the real magic came in the faith that it would turn out for the best. And it sure did!

A more recent example of building in real estate is the new construction project that my clients recently went under contract on. It is a gorgeous new house outside of Asheville. An independent builder bought this lot in a new neighborhood and designed and began construction on the home. We went under contract when it was at about 70% complete. This is a unique dynamic where the builder agent is NOT controlling the process of the build for my clients, the way a community home builder or track home builder would. In this case, a buyer agent, such as myself, has proved to be more important than ever! I am trying to help my clients understand what they can and cannot do, since the construction is nearly complete. We recently had an issue with granite. The buyers were able to pick granite, but they didn’t like the selections the builder gave them. As always, my philosophy of real estate is that there is always a solution, so that skill has proved invaluable in new construction!

Probably my most valuable thing that I built is this homestead! It may never be complete, either. But it is truly exactly what I wanted. My goal out here on the farm is to be a self sustaining as possible. I am no doomsday planner, but I grew up in a family that grew our own food and relied on family and friends to get things done. We have been able to create that out here, on a small scale, and I have tons of plans to continue that building…like solar panels on the barn, a deck and detached garage, and increasing the garden.

Building things is my biggest goal in life! I want to build more houses. But I also want to build family and business. I want to help other people build businesses. I want to build more houses for other people. I truly enjoy watching the process, even if I end up cussing the majority of the way through, like we did on our home! That’s the proof that I’m meant to build things. I have a small amount of knowledge and plan to really increase that, maybe even getting my own contractor license. I am great at creating a strategy in all the areas of building! And my faith in the process gets stronger and stronger every time I am proved wrong! I look forward to a long line of more things to build!

Barn Cats

Have you ever met a barn cat? They can be a little ellusive. Usually they are wounded or scarred, stay away from human touch, and hide in plain sight. We inherited a barn cat named Mr. Bojangles when we bought this farm. When I first moved here as a renter, he welcomed me with loud cries for food and scary hiding spots in the rafters of my car port. But he was nothing like most barn cats I had known. Unfortunately, he is missing. We are worried and confused but still a little hopeful because he is such a special barn cat.

We always had barn cats on the farm I grew up on with my grandparents. They lived in the basement at night and roamed the farm in the day. I do remember one story of a particular cat who climed into the engine of my grandfathers old Dodge and wasn’t found until after he started the car to go to work that night. I don’t remember any of their names, though I know they had names. And I don’t remember ever snuggling or playing with them.

That is what made Bojangles, or Bo, so different. He was the best fire side cuddler on the farm. If it was cold and you had a fire going, he would curl up in your lap for a little snooze. Most evenings, fire or not, he would come to the house for some loving and an extra scoop of dry cat food, though he had just gotten a can of wet food in the tack room for supper. He loved to be picked up and cuddled like a baby, but only by me and my hubby. At our new farm house, he would sit at the back sliding glass door most nights taunting the inside cat into a game of show and tell. She would show him her toys and he would pretend he didn’t care. When we were new to his farm he had what we called a broken purr. It was rough and incomplete. We always said it was because he didn’t get enough practice. Over the years it fixed itself, or we fixed it, with all the loving he got. He greeted newcomers, human and animal, with caution at first, but quickly taught you how to respect his wishes.

I have always said he will be the subject of a childrens book one day. When the lady built this barn she adopted him and brought him here as a barn cat, but he soon won her heart and she decided to take him to her house for him to live as a house cat. One day, he got out and they couldn’t find him. A few weeks later he turned up back at the barn. This was his home. He chose it. Which is why it feels so empty now that he’s gone. It’s been 2 weeks now and there have been no signs of him. But I haven’t completely given up hope.

He’s been gone for a day or two before, but this is unusual. He’s lived on this farm for 10 years or more and avoided every preditor known to man, and probably some we don’t see. I have watched him run from a fight straight up a tree. He’s tough, but most of all he is smart and fast. I don’t think any of that changed. I don’t see him loosing speed or timing, even if he’s gotten older. He still doesn’t trust people or animals enough to get in trouble. We had a foster dog that didn’t know what to think of this big fluffy cat that came so close to him. The foster dog, Felix, was old and had spent a few years roaming the woods of a neighborhood when we picked him up. We were sure he had seen cats, but he didn’t know what to do with them. It was almost as if they had terrorized him and so he had to chase them away from his food. Bo just sat there and let Felix sniff him. He didn’t make a move or run or hiss. And Felix gently opened his mouth slowly around Bo’s neck. Bo was giving him the benefit of the doubt. But he quickly taught the old man to be a little more respectful.

If he’s lost, I know he can take care of himself. Sure, we feed him. We actually feed him a lot because he always looks so skinny. It’s a true testament to what an active lifestyle can do. But he’s resourceful enough to feed himself. And he absolutely LOVED to show you. He presented us with twin chipmunks laid perfectly side-by-side in a horse stall, birds of all sizes on the door mat, baby bunnies one after another when praised for a being a good boy, and more mice than you can count which he would swallow whole while our dog watched with great envy. If he’s been captured by someone else trying to turn him into a couch potato, he might get out again and come back. Or he might choose the indoor lifestyle for a bit!

At the end of the day, he’s a barn cat. We should envy their freedom. He can do whatever he wants, go wherever he wants, and be whatever he wants. There are people that love him and respect his independence right here on this farm. With that respect comes the unknown, a little bit of sorrow, and maybe some fear. Barn cats come and go sometimes without the help or permission of humans. I guess that’s what makes them so special.

Heart Breaks

You learn how to deal with heart breaks. Sometimes it’s when hours of training seems to have evaporated into thin air in two seconds. But always it is when we outlive the ones we love the most.

Consider your life span. My goal is to be as cool as my Grandma who lived to be 93. If so, that’s enough time to outlive an average of 8-10 pets, assuming I only have one at a time, and very few people are capable of that. There are some that become part of our souls, whether because they are around so long or exist at a time that’s so important. And some we don’t even realize we will miss until we do. I wonder if it’s worth it often. Do I really want to live through that heart break over again in a few years? Is it worth my tears to have spent all of that time and energy and emotion  and power and money on them? Do they really value it? Do I really need it? Does it make any difference for them or me?

The answer is yes! To all of them…yes!

This is a story about Kate…

Kate is not a sweet little girl to most. She came to the rescue at about 1 year old, maybe 2.  I was in the middle of a terrible divorce and ugly custody battle. I had nothing to my name. I barely had a job, barely could pay rent, barely could feed myself and my kids. My best friend, who knows me better than anyone, called one day and said, “you should foster this cat.” She’s crazy, literally. My best friend and this cat! I wasn’t a very sweet girl then either.

I pick her up at a storage facility, where the rescue gives me everything I will need, litter box, food bowls, etc, because I am too poor to buy any of it. We are fine. She meets the kids. She is fine. My 6 year old carries her around like a football. She is fine. On a Saturday, I put her in a carrier and take her to an adoption event. She is fine. Person number 1 walks over to pet her and she turns into a she-devil that will tear you to shreds and eat you from the inside out. We try every Saturday, at great sacrifice to many because of work schedules, school schedules, custody days, and crazy ex-husbands. She literally bites at least two people a day. They have to put a sign on her kennel that says CAUTION! At home, my six year old still carries her around like a football and she couldn’t care less. Finally the rescue calls and says, “would you like to make Kate a part of your family?”

“Oh, no! I can’t afford the adoption fees!”

“Oh! We’ll waive those. Please just don’t bring her back to an adoption event.”

What?! Seriously?! I don’t want a cat! I can’t even feed myself every day of the week!

Five years later she is the matriarch of this crazy farm life we lead. She is  the OG, seriously, Original Gangster! She will allow you to pet her, purr sweetly while you do, then attack your ankle viciously while you walk away. When her bowl is empty at night she gets on the headboard and throws whatever item she can find on your head to wake you up. She has taught 1 crazy, stray hound dog how to live with a cat, and 1 cute, baby kitten how to survive a tough sisterhood. She explained to an outdoor OG the difference between life on the inside and life on the outside. She relished her peace and quiet when we were all away on vacation. She hid in a few pocketbooks, boxes, and drawers. She sometimes made a break for it out the door, but soon realized how stupid that idea was. And always let mommy love her, even if she completely disagreed. Because for some reason Mommy was always different.

And then today she is diagnosed with a non-curable, non-diagnosable, non-treatable condition called FIP, Feline Infectious Peritonitis. The fluid around her lungs can be removed, but it will come back. The fluid in her abdomen can be tapped, but it will come back. The mass in her intestines is likely not cancerous but can’t be fixed. She is dehydrated and will need IV fluids. Her breathing is labored so an oxygen kennel will be needed. So IV fluids, oxygen tank kennel thingy, syringes of fluid from her chest and abdomen for this original OG, ‘I’d rather bite you than look at you’, precious little girl who may or may not have kept me alive through the roughest part of my life…  Only to extend her days on this Earth for maybe a week? No thanks, she said. I’m good. I got you through when you needed it. Now you can get me through this. We straight.

And just like that, heart broken.

If you know anything about trauma, you know that healing from it is a very long process. You don’t look at how far you’ve come in 10 years and say that’s that. I, at least, remember every day of those horrible years. Time doesn’t fly when you are being abused and scared. Some counselors have called it PTSD, and I get that. But now, when I remember them I am hurting for what they were and for the little ball of kitty fur that walked me through it. I will miss my little gangster. And I would keep her over and over, even knowing today how much it hurts. Maybe, we are the ones worth it, those of us that save them. We deserve the love and care they give us. Maybe it is their job in this universe to remind us that we deserve love and snuggles and little sandpaper kisses. And maybe we needed to know that. I needed to know that I was worth it.

Strawberry Season

For this Southern Girl, berry season is a momentous occasion!  It means the beginning of summer and all things fresh.  I don’t mind the heat and humidity, when it means I can eat all kinds of fresh fruit and veggies.  Ya see, I don’t buy strawberries in October, or tomatoes in December, because that’s not when they are in season, so the reward of waiting until the opportune moment is a farmhouse sink full of ripe, juicy strawberries that have to be washed, cut, frozen, cooked, jellied, or just eaten (that’s my favorite!).  Many of my friends call me crazy…”modern technology makes strawberries available all the time”…”I don’t have time to do all those strawberries before they go bad”…”why work so hard when you can just go to the store and buy them”.  Sorry, y’all, but 2 hours spent with my kids at the strawberry farm then an hour washing and processing (while munching) seems like a much better way to spend my Saturday!

Here’s my favorite thing to do with them:

Strawberry Shortcake

Cut about 2 cups of strawberries into extra small pieces.  Sprinkle with 1 teaspoon sugar and stir.

Cut a slice of Entenmann’s Pound Cake (or make your own, but even I’m not that ambitious!).

Whip up some homemade whip cream by combining whipping cream, a little sugar (to your liking) and a splash of vanilla.  Turn the mixer on a high setting and let it go. (Homemade whip cream is not ambitious; it’s easy!)

Layer on a plate or in a bowl and enjoy!

{Got some extra calories stored up from eating that salad for lunch?  Replace the whip cream with vanilla ice cream!}