Master Tom and Tiny Tom wish you all a very, merry Thanksgiving.

{They will be enjoying running around the pasture on turkey day as we enjoy lying around in the living room.}

Cheers -

It is difficult when you are a farmer, even a small one (that is, own a small farm, not be a small sized farmer) to get off the farm on any sort of regular basis.  

The chore list extends to infinity and beyond. It can make a seemingly industrious person feel downright lazy to indulge in some personal, off-the-farm time. 

But that is exactly what I need to keep some "work-life" balance.  So I do my best to have some small adventure off the farm every week. 

Today I took the short drive up to Mill Bluff State Park, not too far from Tomah, WI.  All the park gates were closed, and I wasn't sure which entrance would yield the best hike, so I took a chance on the Camel Bluff loop, an easy, level, 1.25 mile circuit. 

The trail is wide and pretty sandy, but hard-packed so it's not difficult walking.  It's also mostly in the shade of mature stands of pine, which would make it a cool saunter on a hot summer day. 

The trail was so easy-going that it made it very easy to really enjoy my surroundings, and stop often to take a closer look at details near the trail, like the angelic looking seeds of the milkweed pod. 

Setting them free in the breeze is one of my favorite tiny pleasures in the fall. 

There are side-shoots off the main trail that lead up to the individual bluffs, and I took advantage of those, too.  

#iseefaces

I  may have even climbed up a bit for a better view, although I found the view at my feet to be as delightful as the view of the horizon.

"There is an ancient conversation going on between mosses and rocks, poetry to be sure. About light and shadow and the drift of continents. This is what has been called the "dialect of moss on stone - an interface of immensity and minute ness, of past and present, softness and hardness, stillness and vibrancy, yin and yan.”

― Robin Wall Kimmerer, Gathering Moss: A Natural and Cultural History of Mosses

Warm sunshine uninhibited by the shade of the white pines now streamed down on my bare skin, warming me as I stood up with butterflies in my stomach and took in the grandeur of the view around me.

All too soon it was time to climb back down and head back to the farm in time for evening chores, which have gotten earlier as the sunset creeps backwards on the clock.

I did not have time to do the trail to Mill Bluff itself, but I will be back with that journey in mind.

Until then, it is back to the tasks at hand, here at the Little Farm.

Cheers -

I never took myself for a "poultry person" until the first time I brought home day old chicks from the local farm supply store. 

I've been raising chicks from one-day-old every spring and summer since, both laying breeds and meat breeds, and even trying my hand at hatching out our own (although as luck would have it, we got 10 out of 11 roosters that year!).

But it was my first bunch of Blue Slate turkeys from Cackle Hatchery that really sent me head-over-heels in love with poultry and especially, with turkeys. 

And what an odd love affair this has been.  

Turkeys have an undeserved negative reputation.  Far from being stupid, (and no, turkeys will absolutely not stand out in the rain and look up and drown, so if you've ever said that, please stop it immediately) I have found them to be the most social, the most curious and the most gregarious of all of the domestic birds on our property. 

Their faces are divine studies in theatrical performances, as their heads and necks turn from a pale pink to vivid tones of blues and reds whenever they are near an object of attention - either the hens, or more often, us. 

The names of the parts of their heads are also delightful - from the snood hanging over their beak, which stretches and elongates when they strut, to the caruncles on their head and necks, which also engorge and turn brilliant red during a strut. 

{And yes, for turkeys, snood length does matter, with longer snoods winning the hearts of hens and usually determining the dominance level of the tom.} 

An adult turkey has 5,000-6,000 feathers, from the long proud tail feathers to the tiniest of tiny feathers on the tops of their heads, which appear like an angelic halo (look closely at several pics on this page to see this).  These beautiful feathers are not just for looks, either, as a turkey can fly up to 40 mph and in the wild, naturally roosts in trees. 

Their big brown (or blue) eyes are keenly sharp, as any hunter with a goal to bag one can attest to, their field of vision encompassing 270° and even seeing in color.  

But it's not the many fine attributes that I fell in love with, although they make it all the more justifiable. 

It's the essence of the turkey personality, the "turkeyness of the turkey," so to speak. 

It's the way the babies are so calm when you put your hand into the brooder, coming up in serious earnestness to investigate your fingers, and their escalating peep, PeeP, PEEP! when excited. 

It's the hens that will curl up in my lap for a snooze, or fly up and roost on my head, or sneak up behind me to steal the gloves out of my pocket, darting away in an exuberant game of "keep-away."

Mostly, turkeys are just darn good company. 

And that, my friend, is good enough reason for me to fall in love. 

Cheers - 

It's molting time again, that time of year when the daylight is shortest and chickens tend to molt their feathers and regrow them, sometimes in funny ways.

Our little Ameraucana rooster, Allspice, has molted his tail, which makes his already diminutive stature even more so.

Here he was before:

But that doesn't deter his gargantuan spirit.

Despite Pullet Surprise being over twice his size, Allspice still rules the roost around here.

Tail or no tail.

And that's no "tall tale."

Cheers -

There are two sets of constant companions on our farm. One is the cats, especially Karma, who seems to feel it her duty to oversee every detail of our tasks.

The other is our small flock of Sweetgrass turkeys, who strut about each one trying to outdo the other and impress us with their talents. 

Today we had the pleasure of both as we advanced our "replace-the-turkey-townhouse-floor" project. 

A few weekends ago we removed the rotted out floor. Last weekend a layer of rocks and dirt were hauled in, and today hardware cloth was put down. Next weekend, with any luck, new boards will top the wire. 

The jakes like to chase Karma whenever they can, but since she is close to fearless, she stays within close range despite the likelihood of a chasing. They don't seem bent on real damage, and with a couple of bounds they give up the chase. In turn she chases the Sweetgrass hens whenever she can. 

Mojo tempered his fear of the turkeys by overseeing from within the trailer, safely outside of the turkeys' vision. 

Cheers -