This is not about resolutions. I stopped making resolutions about ten years ago when I found a list of resolutions from the 1980’s. The first item on the list was “to be more organized.” If I were making a list today, the first item on the list would be “to be more organized.”
This is simply a general update of where we are with our chickens, gardening, and cooking projects.
Chickens
On December 29, we separated our chickens into laying birds and meat birds. It was a day we had been dreading, but the bickering that was becoming a daily occurrence among the birds as they tried to establish a pecking order made our job easier. We methodically got out the pet carrier (how ironic a name is that) and other equipment we thought we would need, ignored the emotional impact of our actions (except for placing carrot tops in the cage, you would never know we cared), and moved the meat birds over to Jim’s place. He lives outside the city limits on a few acres of land and has room for fattening up the birds destined for the table. Once the birds were in his chicken tractor, they went about their usual clucking and scratching routine like nothing had changed. They hardly noticed when we left.
Amazingly, the six who were left behind were traumatized. It could be that they thought the others had been given a better opportunity: they had been taken to a place where people didn’t hover over them and worry incessantly about them. Like any teen who yearns for independence, our six birds thought those who were missing had “gotten away.”
Our birds were in a stupor for a couple of days. They walked around in a daze. There was too much room now. Things were too quiet. Where were the bullies? Where were the jokesters? Who was going to be in charge now? They stayed inside the coop, quiet, for long periods. Only gradually did they begin to emerge. The first sign that they were returning to normal was the group dust bath that they stirred up after everyone decided life must go on. Any woman knows what a bath does to soothe a troubled heart. They lounged and scratched and plucked dirt from each other’s backs. It was hog’s heaven.
As of this morning, I would say that all is right for our pullets (laying-hens-to-be), as well as for the broilers (meat-birds-to-be). Life must go on—at least until butchering day.
Gardening
Yesterday Harvey, Kate, and I went out to the farm to see what might be ready to harvest. We brought home carrots, scallions, Swiss chard, collards, and two heads of cabbage. (We also brought home one of the few remaining insect riddled Chinese cabbages for the chickens.) Even though the cabbages are on the small side, I just had to have a cabbage I had grown from seed for this New Year’s dinner.
Now my seed catalogs are arriving, and I am making my list of the varieties I want to plant in the spring. My chief requirement in my gardening work is to plant old varieties (just as I raise heritage breeds of chickens). I look for seeds that are not classified as proprietary (seed company owns the patent) and for the ones that do not appear to be genetically modified. When crops are genetically modified, pesticides that used to be sprayed on a crop are now placed in every cell of the plant. In order to do this, the pesticide is given access to the DNA of the plant via a virus or bacteria—most commonly e coli.
[Just for your own information: The Big Food lobby has paid enough government insiders to keep any laws from being passed that would require labels on food that is genetically modified. Other countries, including all of Europe and Japan, have not followed the United States’ stance on this. The Japanese have declared that they will let the children of the United States be the guinea pigs for genetically engineered food. They will not use their children for this experiment.]
Cooking
Today is cabbage day, of course. Smothered cabbage is one of our favorites, and if we are going to eat any time soon, I’d better stop writing and get to it. Look for some new additions to the recipe section, including the Red Rooster cocktail that was a big hit at our Christmas gathering.
