What We Did This Weekend

The new coop is underway!  We have walls, and windows, and trusses!

This is the first of three segments that will eventually make a larger chicken coop, a shop, and a larger alpaca shed. 

The coop will house all 37 chickens and 5 ducks, and will have a rain barrel for fresh water, storage for feed, and a multitude of nesting boxes.  My prediction is that no matter how many nesting boxes we make, all 36 hens will try to use 3. 

The shop will be powered by a solar panel, and will have overhead storage for hay and alpaca feed.  This will become Jerry's home away from home, and will house all of his tools.  It will be off-limits to everyone, so that he can go completely OCD and fastidiously organize all of his wrenches, sockets, hammers, nails, hinges, and all of the other things a farm needs to keep going.  I suspect he will install pegboard on the walls, and will draw outlines of the tools hanging on the pegboard.  This way, he will be able to see in an instant if one is missing.  The outline will act like a chalk outline at a homicide scene, and will alert Jerry to pilfered items immediately.  I wouldn't be surprised if he installed an alarm system, too.  You don't want to get between a man and his tools.  It doesn't end well for anyone.

The alpaca shed will be double the size we have right now, and will attach at a right angle to the shop area, so that the entire "complex" will open to a half-courtyard area, which will be covered in gravel, and have a large duck pond in the middle.

The boys are enthusiastic about this new arrangement, because it gets them closer to the fresh pasture.

Mmmm, yummy pasture.

I am enthusiastic about all aspects of this project, but am especially excited about any idea that DOESN'T end with "....and then we'll come in every night and borrow your bathtub...."

I don't recall this being part of Jeff Foxworthy's routine, but he's welcome to borrow it: "You might be a redneck if you have ducklings swimming in your bathtub...."

New Kids on the Block

We have some new residents at Dunwill Farm.  29 new residents in all, to be exact.  27 new chicks, and 2 new alpacas.

The chicks are of several varieties--Americaunas, Welsummers, and Australorps.  They will lay copious eggs, I hope.  It's pretty amazing, you can get just about anything online.  That's where we got the chickens.  Did you know that the US Postal Service delivers live poultry?  I didn't either.  The hatchery ships day-old chicks, and they arrive safe and sound (if somewhat crowded) in a cardboard box with air holes in the lid.  Weird.

The chicks will stay indoors until the new coop is built.  The new coop will be a poultry palace.  We're going to repurpose the lumber from the current alpaca shelter and use it in the new, improved, much larger shelter.  This shelter will adjoin the coop in an L-shape, with a storage room at the angle attaching the two sides.

We have two new alpacas, as well.  I am pleased to introduce Whiteout and Edgefield.

This is Whiteout.  He's approximately three years old.  He's about the same size as Mizzie.

This is Edgefield.  He's about 7 months old, and is just being weaned.  He's by far the smallest of the bunch. 

The boys have integrated into the herd nicely.  It was touch and go for a few minutes, because Mizzie felt very threatened by Whiteout, but everyone is getting along now.  No one has felt threatened by Edgefield, since he's so small. 

We picked up the two new alpacas in Washington, and the ride home was fairly uneventful.  However, it is apparent that Edgefield is missing his mom, because he keeps wandering the pastures, humming and looking for her.  He and Whiteout have attached themselves to Atticus, who, though he is the leader of the herd, isn't sure he wants to be followed THAT closely. 

I've been my usual OCD self, sneaking out to the pasture to spy on the boys, making sure that the new kids are getting enough to eat, and are not being picked on.  So far so good.  Atticus is a calm, confident alpha, and Goldie is a friendly ambassador for the new guys.

Poor Harry and the girls--they have no idea what awaits them in a month or so.  They will be completely outnumbered.  Look at them, obliviously ranging around the pasture:

Poor Harry--he can barely keep track of the flock he has.  He's going to have a fit when he sees how many new hens he'll have to herd around.

Bridgie has informed me that those new girls had better watch their step--SHE rules the coop (unbeknownst to Harry), and she'll whip them into shape!

Maggie Demands Equal Time

I write a lot about our camelid residents, but Maggie has informed me that I've been remiss.  I have excluded our canine residents (but really, they kept saying they weren't quite ready for their close-ups).

This is my beautiful pup, Maggie.  We met at a pet rescue.  She was originally billed as a lab/Weimaraner mix, but based on several key characteristics, the vet told us that she is a lab/greyhound mix .  As she's gotten older, the "lab" part has come to the fore, and the "greyhound" part of the mix has capitulated to gravity and middle-aged spread (kind of like me).  Ultimately, though, we'd most accurately classify her as a "goodie-hound".

Maggie is a nurse-dog.  If you're home sick, or if you're sad, or if you're just out of sorts, she will snuggle close to you with a very worried expression, as if to say, "Are you okay?  Are you okay?  Can I get you anything?  Ooh, squirrel!......Are you okay?  Can I get you anything?  Just a second....shiny thing!  So are you okay?"

Maggie is where all toys containing squeakies go to die.  She's never met a squeaker she couldn't get out of a plush toy.  With absolute focus, and single-minded purpose, she will nibble (with her front teeth) at the seams of any toy containing a squeaker until she creates a hole large enough to extract the squeaker.  She will then gnaw on the squeaker until it squeaks no more. 

Maggie also has a very keen sense of style.  When she and another of our canine residents were arguing about who was top dog, she got a couple of puncture wounds on her chest.  The vet had to shave her chest and insert drainage tubes, in order to make sure the wounds didn't get infected.  We needed to cover the tubes so that they wouldn't catch on anything, so our solution was to have her wear a T-shirt of Jerry's.  She LOVED that T-shirt.  She pranced around like a runway model, and thought she was Tyra Banks.  To this day, any time Jerry gets a T-shirt out, she gets so excited she can't sit still.  Kind of like how I feel at a DSW sale.

She sleeps on our bed, and if she thinks we've stayed up too late, she will perform what we call "doggie turn-down service".  In order to get us to come to bed, she'll drag ALL of the blankets down to the bottom of the bed, as if to say, "Look, I've got it all ready for you.  Hurry up so I can continue my nap!"

She is sitting outside my office right now, waiting for me to get done with this post, because she's decided it's bed time.  I'd better go, or I'll end up re-making the entire bed.

Bonding with the Boys

I love it when I get bonding time with the boys.  I feel that it enriches all of our lives.  I feel as though they've let me into their secretive, alpaca club when they let me get close to them.  Here's what bonding looks like at Dunwill Farm:

Hello, Atticus!

Hello, Mizzie!

Hello, Solomon!

Hello, Goldie!

Quality time is a precious thing.  Maybe someday they'll like me even when I don't shamelessly buy their affection with 'Paca Pellets.

Good Night

Good night, girls.

Good night, Harry.

Good night, Goldie.

Good night, Mizzie.

Good night, Atticus.

Good night, Solomon.

Good night, back yard.

Good night, stubborn blackberries.

Good night, pond.

Good night, fish.

See you all tomorrow.

Alpaca Pedicures

We'd put it off long enough.  Those boys needed their toenails cut.  But how would we go about it?  The way I saw it, we had three options:
1. Have the vet make a house call and do it for us ($$$).
2. Hire someone to do it for us ($$).
3. Do it ourselves ($).

Anyone who knows me, or indeed, anyone who's read a few of these posts, knows that I'm a cheapskate, AND, I don't let the fact that I've never done something before get in the way of just diving into it headfirst.  As long as there are YouTube videos and how-to websites available, I'll be game to try pretty much anything but a DIY appendix removal. 

After researching carefully (see the aforementioned YouTube and how-to website references), I knew what I needed.  I needed super-sharp trimmers, a place to restrain the alpacas, and help.  Actually, what I really needed was two Long Island Iced Teas and a nap, until the urge to do this task passed. 

You remember the scene in "Top Gun" when the fighter pilots walked out onto the flight deck in slow motion, with the theme song playing majestically in the background, and you just knew that the best and brightest our country had to offer was headed off to defend freedom and the American Way?  Yeah, well, we didn't look anything like that as we headed for the pasture.

Jerry and I clomped out to the pasture in our rubber boots, I with clippers in hand, and Jerry with lengths of PVC pipe.  It was an awesome display.  The herd was intimidated.  Not.

As an aside: when we fenced in the new pasture, the section of fence between the old and new pastures did not attach perpendicularly to the outside fence.  It veered off oddly to form a little triangular section that could easily be barricaded using two long PVC pipes stuck through the wire.  We really did leave it like this purposely, figuring that at some point, we'd need to corral the boys, and also figuring that they wouldn't fall for the old "wander innocently into the shelter" gag more than once.

We used the lengths of PVC to herd the boys toward the corner.  They move as a pack, so where Atticus went, the others followed.  Once they were all squished into the corner, we let three go and held one hostage. 

Jerry and I had developed our strategy beforehand--he would hold the alpaca, and I would clip the toenails.  Jerry was going to use a "bracelet" hold on the alpaca's neck, which would render said alpaca immobile.  I would then carefully coax the alpaca to lift one leg at a time, and swiftly clip the toenails.

Solomon was our first victim.  Jerry got him held in the bracelet hold, and I bent down to lift Solomon's back leg.  I expected active resistance, but I didn't expect passive resistance--as in, leaning his whole weight on my back as I struggled to get his foot into position.  So, Jerry had Solomon in what could only be termed at this point to be a sleeper hold (the bracelet hold flew out the window immediately) and I clipped the toenails of the alpaca, who was laying ON MY BACK.  The game, "Twister", had nothing on us.

Yes, he was laughing at us the whole time.  Doesn't he look pleased with himself?  We got three of the four feet clipped, with Jerry keeping Solomon in the head lock, and me being crushed with 150 lbs of dead-weight alpaca.  By foot #4, Solomon had turned passive resistance into active resistance, and he broke free.  I tried to coax him back with promises of foot massages (yes, there is a lady on YouTube who gives her alpacas foot massages), but he wasn't buying it.

One down, three to go.  Ashley came wandering out, and we recruited her for our mission.  Sucker.  We did the same thing, guiding (chasing) the herd around the pasture and into the corner again.  We got smart this time, and decided to halter the selected victim (Mizzie) for ease of handling.  But we made the mistake of thinking we'd save time by moving Mizzie to the halter, rather than the halter to Mizzie.  I keep trying to tell Jerry that when the alpaca breaks free, LET GO.  Jerry is a stubborn man.  Now, Jerry is a stubborn man with a Mizzie footprint on his chest.  Yes, he fell down, wouldn't let go of the alpaca, and got stomped for his troubles.  

I was a little concerned about how we were going to clip all of Mizzie's feet, since due to his bionic shoulder, his right front leg (front passenger side leg) is a little shorter than the others, and he lists to that side.  I wasn't sure how much weight he could put on the affected leg if I had one of his back legs up.  I needn't have worried.  Not only could Mizzie lift the back leg, he could KICK with the back leg.  Sorry, Ashley. 

Mizzie 2; Dunhams 0.  Jerry has a Mizzie print on his chest, Ashley has one on her stomach.  Have I yet mentioned that sometimes, it's good to be the person doing the clipping, rather than the person doing the alpaca-holding?

Although, I had troubles of my own with MIzzie.  He really is a stubborn little thing.  I solved the troubles completely by accident, though.  I was trying to get him to hold his back foot still.  It just so happened that when I held his foot with the hand closest to his body, the angle forced my elbow into his....."man-bits".  He was suddenly very, very still.  Huh.  Works with all species, I guess.

Once Mizzie was done, we chased the alpacas around the pasture again, and once again cornered them.  Atticus was starting to look a little sheepish--I mean, getting trapped once was bad enough, but three times???

Golden was the next victim.  We had ambitious plans for Goldie.  His toenails were by far the worst of the lot, AND his front teeth needed to be trimmed (more YouTube research had been done).  The most popular method of tooth trimming was using a Dremel tool.  Some people used an OB-wire, but try finding one of THOSE at short notice.  So, we had the Dremel primed and ready.  Feet first, then the teeth.

Goldie was not amenable to either of the processes.  He was the worst of the lot when it came to his feet.  He pulled Solomon's trick of passive lounging, and Mizzie's trick of random kicks.  By then, Jerry, Ashley, and I were tired, sore, and heartily sick of alpacas.  Goldie's toenails were much worse than the others' had been, and I did the best I could, but I'm going to have to work on his gradually, due to how much they'd overgrown.  By the time we were done wrestling him to get his toenails trimmed, we knew his teeth would have to wait for another day. 

Thank goodness Atticus' toenails didn't need trimming.  I think it will take at least two weeks before our bruises fade.  Maybe then we'll try to trim Goldie's teeth.

Did They Miss Us?

It's hard to tell if the boys missed us while we were gone this weekend. 

Do these look like the faces of boys who missed us?

Does this look like the face of someone who missed us?

It's hard to tell....they're not very talkative.  And "hmmmm, hmmmm, hmmmm" can be interpreted in many ways.  I'll let you decide.