Plowing the Field

 

Our fresh­ly plowed field!!!

I guess I should start at the beginning…

We found a guy to plow our fields over a month ago, and we were hop­ing that he could come last Mon­day to do the ini­tial sod-flip with his mold board plow. A mold board plow cuts the sod and then flips it over, expos­ing the loam and allow­ing the organ­ic mat­ter in the grass to rot beneath the sur­face and enrich the soil.
This pic­ture shows a dou­ble bot­tom mold board plow (dou­ble because it has two mold boards).
Any­ways, we thought we were all set to have the field plowed and then, at the begin­ning of last week, things start­ed going wrong. The trac­tor broke — it had to be tak­en up to New Hamp­shire to be fixed — and mean­while it kept rain­ing and rain­ing, soak­ing the fields and mak­ing them increas­ing­ly dif­fi­cult to plow even if we had had a work­ing trac­tor. Final­ly, after wait­ing on the edge of our seats all week, the trac­tor was brought over last Fri­day and we watched as it plowed a cou­ple pass­es along the bot­tom of the field. We went to bed con­tent and cer­tain that we would have beau­ti­ful­ly plowed fields by Sat­ur­day afternoon.
I’m start­ing to learn that every time I go to bed con­tent and cer­tain it means that some­thing’s about to go wrong.
We woke up Sat­ur­day morn­ing bright and ear­ly. Dave head­ed down to the field and I lagged behind, tak­ing my time, total­ly calm. By the time I got out­side, 20 min­utes behind Dave, dis­as­ter had already struck. The trac­tor had hit a rock, a real­ly big one, and the force of the impact had stopped the trac­tor short and thrown the dri­ver hard against the steer­ing wheel. It had also bent his plow. The dri­ver was pret­ty shak­en by the whole thing but we slow­ly con­vinced him to try anoth­er pass with promis­es of whiskey when the whole thing was over (appar­ent­ly if a trac­tor hits a rock like that hard enough it can flip the whole machine — so he had good rea­son to be freaked out). So he got back on his trac­tor and came around for anoth­er pass, he hit anoth­er rock almost imme­di­ate­ly. It was over, with less than a quar­ter of our first field turned. Sat­ur­day morn­ing 7:45 AM, already a week behind sched­ule, and we were back to the draw­ing board.
I’m not sure why we were so sur­prised by this par­tic­u­lar prob­lem. After all, New Eng­land is pret­ty famous for it’s rocky fields, and Carlisle is espe­cial­ly famous for being dif­fi­cult to plow. We’ve been told by mul­ti­ple peo­ple that the rea­son Con­cord was set­tled first was because its soils are clean and clear, while Carlisle is all either swamp or rock ledge. But for some rea­son it had­n’t real­ly crossed our minds that we might hit huge rocks in the mid­dle of our field. This was par­tial­ly because the near­by stone wall had con­vinced us that the pio­neers had already tak­en care of all the hard stuff and also par­tial­ly just plain old wish­ful thinking.
So, we start­ed call­ing every­one that we could think of that might have an opin­ion, or a trac­tor, and after review­ing a bunch of dif­fer­ent options, it became clear that the major prob­lem was that the trac­tor was only 2‑wheel dri­ve. It was too small, and there­fore had­n’t been able to go slow­ly enough to drag the plow safe­ly. In addi­tion, some mold board plows are spring-tripped. When the plow hits a large rock, instead of stop­ping the trac­tor short, the spring on the plow breaks and swings it up and back, pre­vent­ing the plow (and the dri­ver) from being dam­aged. A 4‑wheel dri­ve trac­tor with a spring-tripped plow could creep through the field, find­ing the rocks with­out caus­ing harm to the plow or the dri­ver.  But then what to do about the rocks? It might have seemed fine to leave them, as long as they were 6 inch­es down or more, but appar­ent­ly once you start loos­en­ing up the soil the rocks start to rise more quick­ly. We need­ed to get them out or get stuck with a field full of boulders.
Luck­i­ly, Dav­e’s par­ents are build­ing a new trail­er park­ing lot next to our new field, and so there was a huge exca­va­tor sta­tioned right next door. If we could find a 4‑wheel dri­ve trac­tor, than we could slow­ly plow the field, and every time the trac­tor hit a rock, Rick could come in with his exca­va­tor and dig it out.   By call­ing around we found a hand­ful of dif­fer­ent guys will­ing to do the job, but there was an easy win­ner. One of Dav­e’s par­en­t’s friends hap­pens to own all the equip­ment we need­ed (he uses it to turn and re-seed horse pas­tures) and he was will­ing to lend it to us for free and let Dave plow the fields him­self. The offer was too good to turn down.
So, Mon­day morn­ing (exact­ly one week behind sched­ule) Dave and I went down to the fields and he plowed the whole thing (with no pre­vi­ous expe­ri­ence!). It took him a cou­ple pass­es to get used to it, but we man­aged to turn over a pret­ty con­sis­tent 6″ to 8″ of sod and soil. Rick moved all the big rocks (there were A LOT) and we tried to take care of the lit­tle ones. It may not have been the pret­ti­est or more effi­cient plow job, but it is our blood and sweat all over the field, and that’s nice to know.
The first field
Fin­ish­ing up the first field
Dou­ble bot­tomed mold board plow at work
Start­ing the sec­ond field (soil looks great!)
Movin’ rocks
It was pret­ty exhaust­ing and not very easy. In the first field we hit a rock on almost every pass. And some of them were enor­mous. I fol­lowed behind the trac­tor and marked any prob­lem areas so we could go back and suss out the sit­u­a­tion. It makes you think about those pio­neers drag­ging those things out with hors­es. The sec­ond field had a lot less rocks. The stone wall kind of peters out as it gets near­er to the house, so we think maybe the pio­neers either ran out of steam or did­n’t need all that area for agriculture.
The good news is that we got both fields done by 2 PM on Mon­day. The bad news is that we are now pret­ty seri­ous­ly behind sched­ule. The sod is very very thick and dense, prob­a­bly owing to the fact that this field has lain fal­low for so long. It’s been rec­om­mend­ed that we allow 2 weeks for the sod to rot and then go back and disk the whole thing, break­ing up the soil and mak­ing it plantable. After that we’re sup­posed to wait anoth­er 10 days before we start putting seeds in (to allow the sod to rot some more). That sched­ule means we won’t be plant­i­ng until mid to late May, which is too bad since we were plan­ning on start­ing May 1st. We do have a small­er kitchen gar­den in the works, how­ev­er, so hope­ful­ly between that and the green­house we should be able to keep grow­ing and be total­ly ready to plant when­ev­er the field is. The oth­er bad news is that we had to let the exca­va­tor dri­ve onto our field in order to get the rocks out. We’ve been try­ing very hard to not com­press the soil, as this can squeeze out oxy­gen and water and suf­fo­cate and crush a lot of the help­ful microbes and life in our deep organ­ic mat­ter. We can only cross our fin­gers and hope that we haven’t done too much dam­age, and that our soil can spring back to health by plant­i­ng time.

New Meat Bird Chicks!!!

Cor­nish X Rocks born April 16, 2011

This lit­tle guy has a bum leg so we’ve put him in his own apart­ment so he’ll be safe from all the oth­er chicks run­ning over him and peck­ing at him, and so he does­n’t have to com­pete for water or food.
We decid­ed to give him a wall of car­pen­ter clothe, how­ev­er, so he could still see every­one and would­n’t be too lone­ly. He seems to been eat­ing and drink­ing water, and we’re hop­ing that with time his leg will get stronger.

Welcome Back Wilbur!

Where to begin…?

Although we haven’t quite eked past the last pro­ject­ed frost date (around May 1st in East­ern MA), it feels like it’s offi­cial­ly Spring. There’s green grass, buds com­ing out on the trees, Kim­bal­l’s farm ice cream stand is open for the sea­son, and Wilbur, the Viet­namese pot-bel­ly pig (not for eat­ing, although he does sound like he would be deli­cious in a spring roll) has emerged from his den in the back of the barn and I can see him graz­ing in the fields from my win­dow — which is open by the way. I seem to have got­ten in the habit of always start­ing my posts with a com­ment on the weath­er, but it’s pret­ty much all we’ve been think­ing about around here. When’s it going to be dry enough to till the field? Is it warm enough to open up the green­house? Is it still too cold for us to buy meat bird chicks and put them out to pas­ture? Every deci­sion we make requires input from Moth­er Nature. 

Bio­dy­nam­ic Sow­ing and Plant­i­ng Calendar

There are some that argue that when tak­ing cues from our envi­ron­ment we should be pay­ing atten­tion to more than just the local weath­er report. I’ve been read­ing a lit­tle bit about bio­dy­nam­ic agri­cul­ture, which is an organ­ic method of farm­ing that empha­sizes how inter­de­pen­dent the plants, ani­mals and soil on a farm are. Like many forms of organ­ic agri­cul­ture, bio­dy­nam­ic farm­ing is about cre­at­ing farms that are closed loops. This bal­ance is made pos­si­ble through the inte­gra­tion of crops and live­stock, the recy­cling of nutri­ents, and the main­te­nance of soil — no out­side assis­tance or pes­ti­cides necessary. 


In addi­tion, bio­dy­nam­ic farm­ing also con­sid­ers that there are astro­log­i­cal impacts on agri­cul­ture. Most of these impacts are exert­ed by the moon as it pass­es through the twelve con­stel­la­tions of the zodi­ac. Maria Thun (and now her son Matthias) are the author­i­ties on bio­dy­nam­ic astrol­o­gy, and have been releas­ing their Bio­dy­nam­ic Sow­ing and Plant­i­ng Cal­en­dar every year for almost a half a cen­tu­ry. In her most recent cal­en­dar she writes:

“In its 27-day orbit round the Earth the Moon pass­es through the con­stel­la­tions of the zodi­ac and trans­mits forces to the Earth which affect the four ele­ments: earth, light (air) water and warmth (fire). They in turn affect the four parts of the plant: the roots, the flower, the leaves and the fruit or seeds. The health and growth of the plant can there­fore be stim­u­lat­ed by sow­ing, cul­ti­vat­ing and har­vest­ing it in tune with the cycles of the Moon.”
pg 10

The cal­en­dar lists the parts of the plant enhanced by the moon and the plan­ets each day. So for exam­ple today, April 14th, the con­stel­la­tion of the moon is Leo and the cor­re­spond­ing ele­ment is heat, so today is a good day for seed­ing veg­eta­bles that pro­duce fruits. There­fore, when I do my plant­i­ng this after­noon I’m going to seed sum­mer squash and toma­toes. I’ve been try­ing to stick as close­ly to the cal­en­dar as pos­si­ble, allow­ing for the fact that some­times due to tim­ing and suc­ces­sions I’m going to have to plant a root veg­etable on a leaf day. Many farm­ers that I’ve talked to, even though who claim that they are more con­ven­tion­al , have said that they’ve noticed huge improve­ments in the qual­i­ty and yield of their pro­duce when they’ve used the bio­dy­nam­ic cal­en­dar. I guess I’ll just have to see for myself. 


Ready­ing the field

We’ve spent the major­i­ty of our time these last few weeks get­ting the field ready to be plant­ed. This has involved a lot of brush clear­ing and burn­ing. We had about 10 brush piles on the field, all of which need­ed to be removed before the first till­ing next week. 

 It was hot and smokey work, but thanks to lots of help from fam­i­ly we man­aged to get it all done in a cou­ple of days. 

Our soil test indi­cat­ed that we had great soil with a ton of organ­ic mat­ter, but there are some things that it deter­mined we were lack­ing. My mom has been tak­ing a nutri­ent den­si­ty course with the North­east Organ­ic Farm­ing Asso­ci­a­tion. The NOFA web­site defines “Nutri­ent den­si­ty [as] a qual­i­ty goal that is active­ly sought after in the bio­log­i­cal approach to farm­ing. It refers the nutri­tion­al con­tent per vol­ume of food we eat.” It seems obvi­ous, but the idea is that the more rich and bal­anced the nutri­ents in our soil are, the health­i­er the soil will be, and the more nutri­tious and deli­cious the veg­eta­bles grown in our soil will be as well. Nutri­ent den­si­ty is a lit­tle bit of a tricky sub­ject, and I don’t yet under­stand it wholy myself, but suf­fice to say we have been col­lect­ing the ele­ments that our soil is lack­ing and we are plan­ning on spread­ing them on the field this week­end before the first till. Hope­ful­ly, these addi­tives will make our soil and our veg­eta­bles health­i­er — and, nat­u­ral­ly, those of us eat­ing them health­i­er as well. I’ll write more on this lat­er but, if you’re inter­est­ed in read­ing more now, NOFA has a lot of good infor­ma­tion on their web­site: http://www.nofamass.org/reference/nutrientdensity.php.

Chick­ens

Our chick­ens have been set­tling in nice­ly and been pro­duc­ing eggs like crazy. After the ini­tial trau­ma of mov­ing to Mass­a­chu­setts (and the lin­ger­ing trau­ma of their barn burn­ing down), the new ladies from New Hamp­shire seem to have decid­ed that they’re hap­py enough to start lay­ing again. In addi­tion, we man­aged to snag anoth­er 7 chick­ens from a woman in Con­cord who was mov­ing, and so now our flock is up to 33 birds! 

We had been feed­ing them plain organ­ic feed, but one of the guys from Erick­son’s Grain Mill in Acton rec­om­mend­ed that we try organ­ic soy-free feed. The jury’s still out on whether or not soy-free food is bet­ter (espe­cial­ly if it’s already organ­ic and not genet­i­cal­ly mod­i­fied — as most con­ven­tion­al soy in ani­mal feed is), but there are many argu­ments in favor of soy-free, the best being that it makes our eggs safe for those aller­gic to soy. We were con­vinced as soon as we opened the bag, how­ev­er, and saw how much bet­ter the feed looked! Final­ly, food that did­n’t just look like lit­tle homoge­nous turds, but instead clear­ly con­tained pieces of dried corn, grains and all kinds of dif­fer­ent good look­ing stuff! In addi­tion, the chick­ens seem to love it and they’ve been lay­ing like mad since we changed them over. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, they love it a lit­tle too much, we went through a 50 lb bag in less than a week. In order to reduce the amont of mon­ey we have to spend on feed, and there­fore keep the price of our eggs rea­son­able, we’ve start­ed sup­ple­ment­ing left-over pro­duce that we get from dif­fer­ent restau­rants and super­mar­kets in the area that oth­er­wise would be throw­ing it away. Now our chick­ens are feast­ing on apples, greens and bananas every morn­ing in addi­tion to their deli­cious new feed, and they seem pret­ty hap­py about it. 

Chick­en break­fast time!
Pigs

One more piece of excit­ing news: we drove up to New Hamp­shire last week­end and vis­it­ed our piglets! We’re plan­ning on bring­ing them home in the begin­ning of May. 
This is the lit­ter that (most like­ly) con­tains the
piglets com­ing home with us in May


Look­ing out my win­dow, I feel a lit­tle jeal­ous of Wilbur who is leisure­ly enjoy­ing the spring­time. But it feels good to wake up in the morn­ing know­ing that, for most of the day at least, I’ll be out there with him, the sun on my back, even if I am drag­ging brush instead of wad­dling and grazing. 

March 31

This last week has been incred­i­bly busy.

First of all, last Thurs­day we got 18 more chick­ens, bring­ing our flock to a grand total of 27. Mom and I drove up to New Hamp­shire and bought them off a guy whose barn burned down. They were cheap, but appar­ent­ly they were trau­ma­tized by the barn fire, and then trau­ma­tized again by the hour ride home in cat car­ry­ing cas­es cov­ered by horse blan­kets in the back of Dav­e’s pick­up truck and then trau­ma­tized AGAIN by the move into a new coop (chick­ens are appar­ent­ly fair­ly easy to trau­ma­tize) and so they haven’t laid any eggs so far. I’ve heard that it can take a month or two for hens to get over trau­ma and start lay­ing again, so right now we’re just wait­ing and hop­ing that all this organ­ic hen feed that we’re shov­el­ing into their greedy lit­tle beaks will pay off. So far they seem to have adjust­ed well, how­ev­er, some­times inte­grat­ing flocks can be dif­fi­cult (chick­ens can be pret­ty mean to each oth­er) but every­one seems hap­py and healthy so far.
Sad­ly, while clean­ing the coop out on Sun­day I left the win­dow propped open and it seems that one of the chick­ens got out because Made­line (one of the cairn ter­ri­ers) did­n’t come in for din­ner on Sun­day night, and then Dav­e’s dad Tom found her lord­ing over a most­ly devoured chick­en car­cass on Mon­day morn­ing. So we’re down to 26.
WANTED
Made­line Erickson
Dead­ly Chick­en Killer
Dave is home for good! He got back on Fri­day night, which was just in time because the real work is just begin­ning. We’ve spent the last cou­ple of days clear­ing brush from the edge of our new veg­etable field. There have been a lot of big old nasty buck­thorn bush­es and TONS of tan­gles of grape and bit­ter­sweet vines to con­tend with, but we’ve been chip­ping away at it over the last cou­ple of days and it’s start­ing to look real­ly good.
Chain saw­ing
Drag­ging
LOTS of brush!
There’s a big old stone wall back in the woods that we’ve been clear­ing up to (you can see it in the back­ground of the last pic­ture). There are tons of huge rocks that were prob­a­bly pulled out of this very field when it was farmed in the past. Thank god for good old fash­ioned hard work­ing New Eng­land pioneers!
The plan is to make the whole sec­tion along the wall into a road so we can dri­ve trac­tors and trucks back into the field.
The cold frames and the green­house look great. The real plant­i­ng starts tomor­row, I can’t believe it’s April already. I’ve just been work­ing on real­ly solid­i­fy­ing the plant­i­ng sched­ule so we’re ready for the busy weeks ahead.
And last­ly, I’m delight­ed to wel­come the newest addi­tion to our team: Angus, my new cairn ter­ri­er pup­py, born 1/1/11.
So far he’s been doing a lot of this:
But I’m sure he’s going to be dig­ging rodents out of our fields in no time!

How to Laugh at Winter, Build a Cheap Mini Greenhouse and More

Win­ter’s death rat­tle. Snow­fall: 0 inch­es. HA!

The green­house look­ing great! All the flow­ers and herbs have sprout­ed and are grow­ing like crazy. Once we start­ed plant­i­ng, how­ev­er, we real­ized pret­ty quick­ly that, as cute as it is, our lit­tle 8′ by 16′ green­house is just not going to be big enough to hold all our new seedlings, espe­cial­ly once things real­ly get going in April and May. So, today Mom and I built three 4′ by 4′ cold frames. Cold frames are like lit­tle green­hous­es, built low to the ground, that can be used in a vari­ety of ways. They can grown in direct­ly (while pro­tect­ing the lit­tle seedlings from the cold), they can be used as an over­flow space to store trays we can’t fit into the green­house, and they can also be used as a place to “hard­en off” young plants out­side before putting them into the gar­den — expos­ing young plants to the cold before putting them through the shock of trans­plant­i­ng. Our cold frames are each rough­ly 4′ x 4′, and can fit 8 stan­dard size plant­i­ng trays.

My dad cut all the ply­wood for us. As you can see here, a cold frame base can all be cut from one piece of plywood:

The two top pieces become the sides, and the bot­tom pieces become the front and back. Here’s some pic­tures of our assem­bled bases out­side the green­house.  As you can see, the box­es are slight­ly angled for­ward, towards the sun. Both the green­house and the cold frames face South.

My dad cut all the ply­wood for us and also built the frames for the tops. To fin­ish the tops we sim­ply stretched heavy duty plas­tic across the frames and sta­pled it to the wood.

That thin piece of wood across the bot­tom is designed to be sta­pled on top of the plas­tic and hold the whole thing togeth­er as tight­ly as pos­si­ble. Unfor­tu­nate­ly, we did­n’t have long enough sta­ples, so I’m plan­ning on fin­ish­ing up the plas­tic and putting hinges on tomor­row morn­ing. I’ll post more pic­tures of the com­plet­ed cold frames then.
In oth­er news, the snow has final­ly melt­ed enough that we can see what our future veg­etable field will look like. I men­tioned before that I was wor­ried because I had been hear­ing more and more about how wet the field we were plan­ning on using could get in the Spring. A vis­it to the NRCS (Nation­al Resources Con­ser­va­tion Ser­vice) field office in West­ford at the begin­ning of March con­firmed this fact (they have pret­ty detailed infor­ma­tion on soil types and wet­land areas through­out Mass­a­chu­setts). Well every­one was right, the field is real­ly wet. Right now we’re deal­ing with about this much vis­i­ble water:
Obvi­ous­ly, this puts a lit­tle snag in our plans to build a per­fect 100′ x 200′ veg­etable field (you may remem­ber this pic­ture from an ear­li­er post:)
While it’s a lit­tle dis­ap­point­ing that there’s a sea­son­al stream right through the mid­dle of our per­fect­ly rec­tan­gu­lar 1/2 acre, this does­n’t mean we can’t grow at all. Our new plan is to put in two veg­etable beds, one on each side of the wet area. We mea­sured it out this last week, and we should be able to squeeze a 80′ x 90′ rec­tan­gle on the side clos­est to the house, and a 100′ x 50′ rec­tan­gle on the far side. We’re also plan­ning on putting in a bridge across the stream at some point so that we can get machin­ery across (most impor­tant­ly for till­ing). This has been my first les­son in being flex­i­ble. I’m sure it won’t be my last.

It’s March!

So, good news! Broody chick­en rehab in the rab­bit hutch­es worked! I released the two hens back into the coop last Mon­day morn­ing and they’ve been act­ing pret­ty nor­mal ever since. Here they are, act­ing pret­ty normal.
More good news! We plant­ed our first seeds of Spring today!! My mom and I set up a lit­tle grow light A‑frame in Dav­e’s wood shop, which is right next to the greenhouse.

The seeds are all plant­ed in six-cell flats or small plas­tic pots, and then placed in per­fo­rat­ed trays for easy water­ing. They are also heat­ed from under­neath by heat­ing trays and cov­ered by plas­tic tops so they will stay warm even though it’s still cold around here.

As you can see, there’s not very much going on yet, but it’s excit­ing! Today, we plant­ed flow­ers (asters, cal­en­du­la and sweet peas) as well as cilantro and pars­ley. These are the plants that require the most ger­mi­na­tion and indoor grow­ing time before being trans­plant­ed out­side. It’s still pret­ty ear­ly for us to be start­ing most seedlings, espe­cial­ly since we’re not sure when things are going to be able to go into the ground out­side yet, but next week it’s going to be time to start the leeks and by the begin­ning of April things will real­ly be get­ting going. And thanks to a lot of rain, the crusty, dirty snow piles are start­ing to recede, so it real­ly does feel like Spring might actu­al­ly be coming…
Until then, how­ev­er, here’s some more pic­tures of the greenhouse:
The let­tuce, swiss chard and kale is all doing great, and we’ve set up a lit­tle work­sta­tion with dirt (the mix we used today was half Hap­py Frog Pot­ting Soil and half peat moss) and an area for planting.

A (Kind-Of) Quick Update on Brooding Chickens

SO, I men­tioned yes­ter­day that I went down to the coop and noticed that one of the chick­ens was broody. A broody hen has decid­ed to sit on her eggs with the pur­pose of hatch­ing them. That would be great if we want­ed chicks and had a bunch of fer­tile eggs to hatch, but in this case the hen was just intent on sit­ting on her nest no mat­ter what. Brood­i­ness can be a prob­lem because often broody hens who have no chance of hatch­ing any eggs will sit on their nests until they starve and dehy­drate to death, and often it’s brought on by long days (I have a bad feel­ing that the heat lamp I put into the coop to keep them warm on freez­ing Feb­ru­ary nights might be to blame). We had been try­ing to remove her from the nest and take the eggs out from under her, but she was being stub­born, and a cou­ple times I caught her sit­ting on noth­ing (and once an egg shaped piece of hard chick­en poop). This morn­ing I went down to the coop and found this:



It’s hard to tell what’s going on here, but there’s four chick­ens in that lay­ing box. The first hen was still refus­ing to budge and anoth­er had joined her (brood­i­ness can be con­ta­gious). Two oth­er chick­ens were attempt­ing to mus­cle their way in to lay some eggs and they were all get­ting pret­ty angry and peck­ing each other. 


So I did a lit­tle research and found that some­times it’s pos­si­ble to dis­suade a broody hen by sim­ply block­ing off the lay­ing box­es and get­ting her away from the nest. So we put all the chick­ens out­side and blocked off the boxes. 



It did­n’t work…an hour lat­er they had man­aged to squeeze inside and there were four of them stuffed in behind the wood! Some­one had laid an egg and some­one else had bro­ken it and now they were all eat­ing it. Insanity. 


I tight­ened the gaps between the boards on the box­es, but the two hens just end­ed up set­tling down on the floor all puffed up and broody look­ing. A bunch of the sources I found online said that the best way to break brood­i­ness is to remove the chick­ens entire­ly and put them some­where total­ly unlike a nest­ing box. Ide­al­ly, this means a wire-bot­tomed cage off the floor with nowhere to bed down and a lit­tle cold air cir­cu­la­tion under­neath their bot­toms (cur­ing brood­i­ness is all about cool­ing off the chick­en’s bot­tom). I tried to brain­storm some options — the green­house, an emp­ty horse stall, a dog crate — but none of them seemed right. Then I remem­bered the old emp­ty rab­bit hutch­es that are sit­ting in the barn. 


And so I packed them up in a cat car­ry­ing case and brought them upstairs. The first broody hen is total­ly in blissed-out-dream­ing-of-moth­er­hood-mode (I can sym­pa­thize, I get the same way when I start think­ing about my new birth­day pup­py, Angus, that I’m get­ting in March) and does­n’t even seem to care what I do with her. The sec­ond hen put up a lit­tle fight, but I’m stronger than a chicken. 



There they are! I gave them some food and water and put down some hay on the floor in an attempt to con­trol the mess. Here’s hop­ing their bums cool off soon!