Back to the Weir

This post, subtitled "Get Ready (minus the For What) was sparked by one of life's odd series of coincidences. First up was my Leo May horoscope from PlanetWaves: "You are at what could rightly be one of the most fulfilling times in your life, in whatever you consider your core mission to be. Yet it seems as if there's a shadow you keep encountering. Sometimes it feels like a question. Other times it feels like your most cherished goal keeps slipping out of reach." Of course, the horoscope did not explain how to fix such an untenable position between what I am so close to having and what I just can't reach.  I do believe this is where our Weir discussion began last December.

 I sniffed around feeling badly about this obviously unfair monkeying about in my business until the second part of the story dropped into my mailbox. 

“Remember to be gentle with yourself and others. We are all children of chance and none can say why some fields will blossom while others lay brown beneath the August sun. Care for those around you. Look past your differences. Their dreams are no less than yours, their choices no more easily made. And give, give in any way you can, of whatever you posses. To give is to love. To withhold is to wither. Care less for your harvest than for how it is shared and your life will have meaning and your heart will have peace.” Kent Nerburn

It was the "care less for your harvest than how it is shared" that caught my attention.  I took another look at that horoscope, placing it carefully in the "to be thought about further" slot in my brain, and left it there without the judgement label attached.  During my lunch break, I decided to explore Kent Nerburn's work a little more.  Wow.   At his website, I was able to read excerpts from his book "The Wolf at Twilight".  I had to stop reading for a moment, sending a silent blessing to the first two pebbles that had sent the ripples in my pond out to this writer.  On page 299, his Native American Elder character Dan states, "We were an honoring people, a guardian people, not an exploring and discovering people.  For us the world was a mystery to be honored, not a puzzle to be solved."

Funny, in a terribly frustrating sort of way, how easy it is to forget what I already know.  I hate having to learn a lesson over and over again, but here I was, needing a reminder.  A weir slows things down, sometimes even encouraging a thing, or an idea, or even a relationship to eddy back to us.  The Weir chapter of Lloyd Alexander's  The Prydain Chronicles illustrates this so perfectly. His character Llonio doesn't value items that he finds because he knows why he will need them.  He values the large, flat, round rock that Taran trips over for the uniqueness of its shape, the smoothness of its surface, the very fact that it appears where he can't miss it.  
  

When I pulled my horoscope back out of temporary storage and looked at it through Llonio's eyes, the part that leapt out at me was not "slipping out of reach", but rather "whatever I consider my core mission to be". For much of my life, I have been an exploring and discovering person. The kind that assesses a goal, noting the necessary steps to achievement and proceeding forward until that goal is indeed discovered, marked on the map, and becomes the point from which the journey to a new goal is plotted. Kent Nerburn's Dan describes it this way:

 "You were always seeking. You did not want to stay still - in your lives or in your minds. You were always trying to change things, to make them better, to make them different. It was like the world that the Creator had made was not good enough for you. You wanted to know what was inside of stones and what was beyond the stars. You took everything apart then tried to put it back together. You never rested."

I know that doesn't sound so terrible - in fact, it sounds like just the type of person we Americans value.   There's always something more to be learned, something more to be gained, something more to be experienced....... something more that seems just out of reach.  This restless spirit propels us forward into the unknown which is incredible, and just a little dangerous.  Let's circle back to the subtitle of today's post (Get Ready - Minus the For What) to see why.


If I wait to see the shape, feel the texture, and take measure of a thing, an idea, or an experience until a need is upon me, I am only seeing through the perspective of that need   When such a need arises, I go looking for a tool that is x big, y heavy and z porous.  My brain has a mission.  I rush past hundreds of other rocks that do not meet the necessary specifications.  And therein lies the weakness and danger of the restless spirit:  when my brain is programmed to seek only one specific goal at a time, I create a pattern of need-based, short-term achievement.


Llonio however, is an honoring kind of guy.  He moves through his day with a wide-angled vision that Jon Young of the Wilderness Awareness School calls "owl eyes".  Because he has filled his mind with an awareness of all the rocks in his environment, their shape and size and texture, his inventory is incredibly abundant.  When the need for a specific rock arises, he is able to respond with little wasted energy.  Rather than chasing and retrieving, Llonio has gathered his abundance with with an appreciative, observant awareness of his place and of himself.  He truly is Ready.

The Birth of a Chick

Once set to incubate, the egg embryos develop in a constant environment of 99.5 to 99.7 degrees Fahrenheit and about 50-65% humidity. The first pips in the shell appear almost simultaneously across the tray at 20 days. These pips, little holes in the shell, allow the chick to begin breathing and strengthening their lungs. The yolk is then absorbed through their little navels and all the blood vessels leading from the navel begin to shrink (just like a baby's umbilical cord) The yolk provides nutrition for the chick's first few days.



This absorption and shrinkage phase lasts about 24 hours. During this time, we can hear little tiny peeps as the chick rests, gathering strength for the final hatching sequence. Once the yolk sac and blood in the vessels have been absorbed into the chick's abdomen, the egg home must be escaped. The tiny chick chips around the circumference of the egg until it has gone almost 80% around. It then pushes open the door it has just created and is BORN!
We marveled at our first hatch - within 36 hours of the first pip, 58 out of the 75 eggs had hatched fluffy little chicks! The remaining 17 eggs were not viable for one reason or another and were removed from the hatching tray. Our first 58 chicks were placed under a heat lamp inside for a little more than a day, then moved to the brooder.






Jeff reloads the incubator tray with another 75 eggs and the cycle continues! We have three trays of eggs incubating, each week hatching one tray and adding a new batch.














After a couple days under the heat lamp, drinking the custom newborn tea of water, garlic, honey, and cider vinegar, the little guys move outside to the Chick Safe. Jeff built this cabinet to house the brooder loaned to him by his Dad. The brooder's five levels has external feed trays on each side and an external water trough on the front. Jeff shifts from newborn tea to fresh water boosted by two tablespoons of whey to assist their developing digestion.

Each week as the new hatch moves into the brooder, the top tray moves down the line until - Freedom!!!

Our first hatch moved outside today into the sunshine and grass and great big wild world. They will spend the rest of their lives being moved every day to new pasture. The first week, Jeff has employed a hover brooder (Thank you again Joel) to help the chicks transition to a climate controlled only by Mother Nature.

I am nervous and excited to go see them tomorrow morning. As they wake up to their very first morning sunrise, their newest brothers and sisters will be busting out of their shells. We are so blessed to be part of this process. I dedicate this day and this post to our dear Drake - don't worry pup, Gr is taking his chick-herd responsibility seriously. He
won't let you down.

One Chick, Two Chick, Three Chick..... More!

So, I've alluded to our Pastured Poultry operation here at Lucky Farm. Perhaps you wondered just what, exactly, a Pastured Poultry operation entails but I am guessing that you knew it involved poultry, right? Lots and lots of poultry actually - from birth to butcher, we will raise over 500 chicks this Summer. Most people buy their chicks from hatchery sites that incubate, hatch, and ship tens of thousands of day old chicks all around the US. Depending on how many chicks you purchase (generally in multiples of 25 as that number fits best in a shipping carton), each chick costs between $1.50 and $2.00. That was a big chunk of change to commit to, especially when we've been watching our home flock hatch and raise their own babies for years. "I think that I'll keep the best birds from the flock this year and breed our own next year," Jeff tells me one golden Autumn evening. "Okay baby," I answer, "I trust you."

Autumn turned to Winter and Winter brought the idiocy of tax season to our household wherein I hold back the rising tide of numbers threatening to completely bury me. Meanwhile, Jeff showed me pictures and read me the history of the redwood Leahy Incubator which he was sure that his Dad would loan to us. "Why, that is just lovely!" I dutifully exclaimed, "and it holds 416 eggs too - that is fascinating." Jeff beamed and continued the Lucky Farm Pastured Poultry Program development. In my defense, tax law is really really really complex -- especially for someone who is HELLO - an artist, farmer, English Major!!! I didn't mean to ignore the ramifications of 416 eggs at a time. Nor did I mean to underestimate the power of watching 75 eggs being placed in the incubator each Sunday for 4 weeks. It was the numbers I tell you, the numbers (whose primary syllable is NUMB I must point out) were just too much and I couldn't take it all in.

On the fourth Sunday of placing the eggs in the incubator rather than the fridge or egg cartons for our friends, Jeff and our girls packed for a trip to his parents' house. Leaving me in charge of all those potential fluffy cutie babies. "WHAT - WAIT - No, I didn't understand. Did I agree to this? I can't do this - all those eggs - all those potential babies - What if I mess up?????" Jeff smiled gently, "It's okay baby, I trust you."

Is he nuts?????? I am the type of farmer that digs up potato plants starting in June, just to see if they are really making potatoes under there! Finally, I convinced him that I'm really not that responsible, really I'm not. Rae took pity on me and stayed home to care for the potential fluffy cutie babies. Three times a day, at precisely 8 hour intervals, she carefully tilted each of those eggs. Lest you think I was overreacting about this responsibility, here is the explanation for the importance of such tilting from "A Guide to Better Hatching" by Janet Stromberg: "Turning reduces the tendencies of the embryo to stick to the shell membranes. Developing embryos will readily adhere to the surrounding membranes if the eggs remain in the same position too long." Oh my gosh, I shudder to imagine. This stuff makes an IRS audit look easy.

Jeff and Zoe returned home on Thursday night - three days before the first of the little eggs was due to hatch (on April first - who plans to birth potential fluffy cutie babies on April Fool's day I ask you??) Jeff resumed the tilting and recording of temperature, humidity, environmental temperature, and averages. And today, on this glorious April first, I lie in my bed, grateful for a morning that I don't have to rush out to another day in the office, ducking the hordes of numbers, reveling in the peep-peep-peeping sound of Spring finally on its way.

Peep.

Peep.

Peep peep peep peep peep peep peep peep peep peep.

JEFF!!!!!!!!! You have fluffy cutie babies. Real ones! They are so wonderful and so alive. I knew we could do it.