But I don't hear any chickens & there aren't any roosters telling me about the impending sunrise.
It reminds me of our first summer here. When we started, I had hatching guinea and bresse eggs shipped from a woman in Manitoba that July. But before they hatched and made it to the out-of-doors, I got to know our native birds. With the help of my nerd apps (ie: Merlin), I learned to ID them from their songs and other details. It was another world. As spring melted into summer, our flocks grew and the sound of the wild birds faded into the sounds of the chickens' egg song, ducks lauging, guineas sounding their alarms, and geese yelling for one another.
It is so fucking quiet now on the farm. At first, I cried a lot, just because the silence was such a loud reminder of my babies that were lost. But, like everything, I got used to it. And then I heard them again- the wild birds. I heard (felt, really) the drumming of a male ruffed grouse, and had the pleasure of seeing his mate and her chicks. I have heard the courting of Northern Flicker Woodpeckers and watched a rare, blue-winged teal duck raise her 5 ducklings on my otherwise empty pond. I even got to rescue her ducklings from an electrified pig net (fence). She yelled the entire time, but watched and let me work.
Because our farm has functioning natural ecosystems within it, we had wild birds infect our poultry with the flu, and we lost them all. And with the flu, we had more fallout than one could imagine. My eggs were not all in one basket, yet when I dropped the basket, and the eggs all broke, they landed on everything else & ruined it. We lost our layers, heritage breed chickens, laying ducks, meat ducks (breeders), geese, and guineas. That meant we would not have any chicken, duck, or guinea eggs to sell at the market (which we sold out of every week). It meant we wouldn't have heritage breed chicks, ducklings, goslings, or guinea keets to sell. We would not have any hatching eggs to sell. We lost our flock of Bresse chicken (a dual-purpose chicken whose meat is a delicacy). Some of those birds cost me $15/hatching egg. Knowing we would have to wait until we were no longer under quarantine to replace any of those flocks was a given.
Here's what wasn't "a given":
Knowing how long that would be: The federal response team took 3 months to come up with a plan I could actually execute in order to start the 120 day countdown (over 4 degrees Celcius). This meant our quarantine would last 7 months, at a minimum. The countdown started so late, our quarantine would not lift until the end of August (approximately 3 weeks from the 1st frost date). This has it's own domino effect due to the calendar. Ergo....
We wouldn't be able to raise turkeys. They take 4-5 months to raise. It's too late.
We wouldn't be able to raise meat chickens. Too late.
We wouldn't have any vegetable production at all in 2024 due to losing access to the greenhouse and our ability to grow tomatoes, jalapeños, etc.. The greenhouse is where the chickens overwintered; sealed off with no access permited until the end of quarantine. I found out too late to make other plans.
We wouldn't be physically able to replace all the flocks this year. Starting at the very end of summer means the possibility of cold, plus there is only so much real estate for babies (brooders have to have electricity, and I only have one large one - big enough for 100 chicks). So I can only replace one flock this calendar year. The rest will have to wait.
We would not be able to use our new livestock trailer. The powers that be require its tires to be washed a certain way, blah blah blah, and it can't leave the driveway until that has happened. It is 1000 ft from the hose.
We would find, as a rule, trying to harvest any pig or cow would prove to be a red tape nightmare (and this is just about the trailer and its tires). Nightmare.
I wouldn't be able to go to market for over 3 months. And after that, I would need a new permit every single week for each, individual market. (I had been doing two markets.)
I would have to do zoom calls and have meetings that make me want to pull my hair out. So much administrative crap and shit and ugh! No! There are so many reasons I am self-employed, but let's just say I do not want to be told what I can and can't do, within reason.
We would lose access to the barn until the end of August.
This meant we would have to build 4 new huts for our pigs to have their piglets in (ergo: money, time, & more intensive animal management).
It meant I would have to take out all the tools and fencing stuffs (as well as have that supervised while cleaning & disinfecting) and later find myself buying tools I already have because I can't open the door and go get them. Don't even get me started on how first they asked me to take it all out and just leave it out in the weather.
It meant our hay was now "infected" and we could not feed it to our cows. Last summer there was so much rain, hay farmers only got one crop instead of two. There was a massive shortage. I couldn't use my trailer. and on and on and on. It meant I had to find and buy hay, as well as have it delivered (complicated by quarantine). It also meant we needed a place to store it & keep it dry, since we couldn't put it in the barn. This was a ridiculous ordeal. So much headache for hay that was in the barn basement - nowhere near the birds.
It meant when my livestock guardian dog freaks out at thunder and fireworks, I have nowhere to put him. He runs away all the time now. No barn to hide in.
Here is what I learned about our farm without the birds around:
The geese were managing the lawn around the driveway & backdoor way more than we knew. Damn it!
Our pigs do best in the forest and/or silvopasture. They are thriving. I harvested 2 in May & sold out in 3 weeks. We are now confident it's the right thing to grow the drift of pigs. (A drift or drove is the name for a group of pigs.) I will focus on plans for next summer, to expand our fenced, grazing areas (new fencing). Also, with all the lessons learned this summer, I look forward to putting in some permenant fencing in certain areas, leaving us to only change the cross-fencing as we move them around, which will make managing them more easeful.
We have 130 acres of woodland. It makes good sense to use the opportunity for income. We can selectively harvest trees specifically in the acreage where we plan on expanding our fencing & grazing the animals. I have joined a woodlot co-op & am getting some help to get that going. Other woodlot work can be about mitigating wildfire & cleanup of big winds (of which we have many). I'm calling it "Big Wind Firewood". I plan on expanding to eventually have a cut-your-own-christmas-tree-experience, which will include a little carriage ride with our Newfoundland ponies that will also help me bring down the firewood. Can't wait to get a little lean-to ready for those sweet babies. CAN NOT WAIT. But I will.
And last, but not least, I learned the community we built this farm in has my back. From the moment this all started, people have offered gifts of hatching eggs of all sorts of fowl, the gift of incubating and raising chicks, baby birds of all kinds, and offered gifts of service and money. (I wish you come could help! Hazmat suits suck.) I could not accept most of those gifts, but the offers were what meant so much to me. I realized I have become a part of this little community and the people I have gotten to know care about us, even though we came from away. (teeheehee) I am so happy we chose this beautiful place to make our home. So many people have held me up this year with all their kindness and encouragement. I received support in some form or fashion from friends and family in the US: Texas, NY, Missouri, Louisiana, California, & Spain, Uruguay, and Mexico. I also have had support here, in the South Shore of Lunenburg County, Nova Scotia, Canada, from: my peers, my mentor, local farmers markets, the Chicken Farmers of Nova Scotia, friends I have made along this journey, strangers, my wonderful customers, my favourite crew at the Bridgewater Farmers Co-op (one of whom offered to take 50 birds home for me until I could get them from her), my organic feed farmers -Sally & Mark of East Coast Organics (Barnyard Organics), and Preston Mulligan from the CBC has come twice to interview me. (Audio - May interview. Video-March interview). Most of the time when people ask me how they can support me, I don't know how to answer, but I want you all to know (if you're reading this) - just by asking, you have lifted me up.
Moving forward, our layer flock with be rebuilt beginning in late August with 48 point-of-lay hens (I asked for 100, if available- these will be 18 weeks old & just about starting to lay when they get to the farm). We will have eggs in September, but not near as many as we can sell. 100 additional chicks will arrive in September & will lay beginning in late winter. If I can't get 100 point-of-lay hens this month, I will have to fill in the gaps in spring, or build another brooder before September 10th.
By June 2025 (when the laying hen enterprise may be back up to scale), we will have lost 18 months of income on that enterprise (~$22,000 profit), which had only been to scale for 9 months when we lost them all. That profit is greatly reduced if we have to start over, and we can't get that time/income back - purchasing them, electricity for heat lamps, bedding for babies, and feeding them 5 months before they make us a dime. Starting over sucks! I miss my chickens. So many people enjoy our delicious eggs. It will be nice to get back to it.
I am still sad. I cry way too easily; and that is saying a lot, because I am a cryer. I am stressed. My thoughts have been incredibly scattered. I keep wondering how to raise funds to get through these next 11 months. But still, everyday, I get up and I spin a thousand plans around in my head. Soon enough, the rebuilding of my wonderful, weird, zoo-farm will begin.
My partner Milo has carried so much this year. Between my severe depression when the shit hit the fan (or the ground, as it were), and now my broken ankle, he has had to do my job and forego his artwork. Soon enough, and he will get some well-deserved rest. As soon as my fractured ankle heals, that is. Sweet mother of God! Don't even get me started.
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