My Garden is My Gym

It’s a sad fact that I work for a Y and have not been to the gym in years.  Even with a free employee membership!  Yet, there are plenty of exercise opportunities available to me right here at home.   I have a dog that needs walking and live on top of a steep hill.  I live in stairmasterville!

One of my projects this year involves building a new asparagus bed.  Do I want to dig a trench for my asparagus?  Of course not! That would be too strenuous. 

I decided, instead, to avoid digging the trench by building a raised bed against the back fence using old logs, and filling it with loose dirt DUG from the leaf rot under my trees 50 yards away.  It just another kind of digging in a different place.  Once the dirt is dug, it's lugged across the yard in this cart.  I'm so glad I decided to take the "easy" way out.  This is why "landscaping" burns so many more calories than "gardening."

Sometimes I do a little jogging chasing these guys around the house. When the wind is gusty, it has a way of blowing the gate open and the chickens have a way of wandering into the culdesac.  I have a feeling that my neighbors are getting a good laugh watching me from behind their curtains. Dave the Mailman knows to be on the lookout and dodge us with his truck. 

Leg lifts are necessary to navigate the chicken wire fence that protects the raised beds from hungry little beaks.

Since I left the leaves in the flower beds all winter, the rake is trying to help me tone my upper arms.

A couple of weeks ago, my fruit trees arrived.  They required 4 large holes.  More digging. 

Luckily, I find dislodging impacted rocks from clay enormously satisfying (and exhausting).

When I start to feel tight, a grassy spot is always available for a yoga stretch (or nap in the sun.)  Betsy and I do down dogs together. 

What kind of workout are you getting outside the gym?

this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments over at Wendy's blog,
Crickleberry Cottage Conversations.

Tinkerbell

One of the many neighborhood strays. We’d see the tail end of her almost every time we walked down the stairs of the deck toward our chicken coop.  A little grey feline creature, obviously attracted to the chickens, but scared of people and poodles.  She would dash over the fence to our neighbor’s yard and hide under his trailer whenever we appeared. 

Not wanting one of my chickens to become her next meal, I set a Haveahart trap and baited it with dogfood.  Sure enough, next morning, she was caught. 

She did not like being picked up in the cage and transported to my garage.  She fought and scratched, hissing the whole time.  We had a beauty on our hands, though.   With her soft, silver grey coat, white bib, and green eyes, she reminded me of the cat I had when I was growing up, Tinkerbell.  So that’s what I’m calling her.  

After looking into those eyes, the plans I had to take her to the shelter were thrown out the window.  They told me frankly that a cat who is not friendly has almost zero chance of being adopted and would almost surely be euthanized.  Over the holidays, I read an article about how overrun our local shelter was with cats.  Well, what you do?

I looked at the website of Ally Cat Allies, a DC-based organization that helps people live with feral cats.  We talked about training her to be our pet.  Everybody loved the idea, but I’m barely surviving the allergy I have to my poodle.  There is no way I can add a cat to the mix and expect to be able to breathe.   So Tinkerbell was let go to resume her life as a free, chicken stalking, backyard stray…and I fear we haven’t seen the last of her.  Quite a few people have told me that it’s rare for a domestic cat to attack full-grown chickens, but not so sure about a hungry stray. 

I’m currently doing some research to find out if there are vets in our area that participate in the Trap Neuter Return program, a humane way of controlling feral cat populations.  Learn more about the benefits here.   If you know anything about these programs in our area, please email me at nyackbackyard@gmail.com.

UPDATE FOR ROCKLANDERS - Since I wrote this post, I've discovered two Rockland-based stray cat advocacy groups.  Both work with vets who participate in the Trap/Neuter/Release program, and also foster and place cats for adoption.  Links are provided to their websites, where you can go for more info.

CARE ABOUT THE STRAYS
P.O. Box 523, New City, NY 10956
New City, NY
TARA (845) 754.7100

FOUR LEGS GOOD
P.O. Box 103
Pomona, NY 10970
877-856-2616
fourlegsgoodnynj@gmail.com

Chickens in a Blizzard

“Whaaaaaa?  Whaaaaaat?  Whaaaaaat?”  is what Goldi Macaroni, Stella and Leonarda the Queen wondered when they saw snow for the first time.  This is their first winter and they had just been released from their coop after being holed up for 48 hours during a blizzard with winds up to 35 mph.  I was hoping they’d have a gentler first exposure.

Despite precautions, somehow snowdrifts (shoveled out before this pic was taken) had managaged to make their way past the boards and tarp into the run.  To cover it, I used our insulated pool cover, and an additional utility tarp over that.

Goldi stepped onto the snow, thinking it would support her weight, and was flustered and embarrassed when it gave out under her feet. 

Since their foraging time was taken away, they got a little smorgasbord of leftover rice, wilted parsley and bread crumbs yesterday.   

Miss B. ran around checking things out.

This was definitely not your typical peaceful blanket of snow.  Parts of the yard were almost untouched, while other parts had thigh-high drifts.

I was amazed to find this in the nesting box.  I only get a couple a week now.   Goldi may have stopped laying until spring.  I don’t know what’s going on with Stella – not a single egg from her yet.   If only she could explain herself.

Have you had much snow in your backyard ?

And if you have chickens, how did they fare during the snowstorm?

A Big Bloomin' Mess

Once again, I missed Garden Bloggers Bloom Day.  Not because I had no blooms!  It’s just that the blooms are being upstaged by the trees, the clear blue sky and that insanely beautiful golden light that hits the hills at dusk.  The blooms just aren’t the biggest attraction now.

Still, we got  French marigolds (Tagetes patula),

Canna (canna x generalis) "Cleopatra",

Nasturtium (tropaeolum)

Cilantro (Coriandrum sativum)

Roses (Hybrid tea - unknown cultivar)

Even a geranium (pelargonium) and petunia (petunia x hybrida) about to bloom.

Some herbs, cabbages and kale still poking along. 

Still harvesting the odd "watermelon" radish.  

Did I mention the leaves from the 40+ trees that are now blanketing the property?   We’re doing it a little different this year.  Instead of raking them up and packing them in 20-odd compostable bags for the town to pick up, I’m gonna blow them into the back of my “woods,” where I’m hoping they compost themselves, help keep the weeds down, and give the bugs a place to hide from the chickens. Maybe I’ll even shred them with the lawnmower and mulch my beds with them.  

But really.  Why move leaves around when I can play fetch with Miss. B??  Can you say "procrastination"....

Have you dealt with your leaves yet?

Co-existing in Greener Pastures

For a long time, my chickens Leah, Goldi Macaroni and Stella, were content in their little run. I brought them treats, and they ranged around eating bugs and leaves in addition to their chicken feed, all day. Slowly, slowly the green bits in their run started to disappear.

They started jumping up to peck at the leaves on the lowest branches of the trees. It was during one of those jumps that they probably noticed a land beyond. A land of tree stumps and leftover popsicle sticks covered with ants. A utopia of dead flower heads and radish seedlings. They were no longer content in their little run.

Around the same time their wings were growing stronger. They probably noticed that the poodle now took little notice of them, apart from the occasional tentative charge, for which she was typically scolded.

One day, I left the gate of their little run open so that I could supervise them ranging around the yard. Yummies everywhere! It was over. The seed was planted, and the wanderlust began.

Regularly, the girls would hop up on top of their coop, and from there easily clear their fence. It was fine. I had a fenced-in backyard. It would be too hard for them to clear the chain link fence around the yard, wouldn’t it? How naïve.

It might have been okay if my next door neighbor, recently retired and increasingly active in his own backyard, hadn’t noticed them, and been charmed by a visit from what he thought was a mini-flock of wild chickens. He tossed some corn around, and they made friends with him, and his yard. Away they went, every morning, and they always came back.

But one day, they didn’t. Nobody knew where they were. On that day, I had meetings with my boss in Manhattan. I couldn’t climb fences, call neighbors or bring out my own cup of tempting seeds. Children were offered rewards for finding them.  I prepared for the worst, but when I got home around sundown Miss B. had found them in another neighbor's yard, trapped behind their rosebushes.

I hate to clip their wings, because I know they will have a harder time getting away from predators now. The major predator, though, the one in my yard that I was most worried about, has become less of a concern and more of an ally.

Our Scariest Chicken Day Yet

I don't know if it was scariest for me, Miss B. or the chickens, but I think it's safe to say we were all rattled afterwards. 

We were getting in the car for the drive to school when I heard Miss B. barking in the backyard in the vicinity of the coop.  Thinking it might be an invading varmint, I ran back there to see what was up.   The chickens had escaped the run and were just outside the fence.  Miss B. had them cornered and was barking her head off, while the chickens cowered, huddled together, pressed against the chicken wire. 


She could have totally mangled them!  But she didn't.  Instead she 1) Rounded them up and prevented them from escaping into the backyard  2) Resisted any temptation she might have felt to dig her teeth into them and 3) Warned me by barking.  That's my girl!

Thinking back, I had heard Miss B. barking back there for at least 5 minutes before I found this whole scene.  I figured she was barking at a squirrel, which wouldn't have been unusual.  They say that dogs with a strong "prey drive" shouldn't be around chickens.  I'm thinking maybe Miss B.'s is not that strong.   Same thing with kittens and skunks --she loves to chase, but won't attack, and is quick to guard my stuff.  Anyone trying to pick my purse, shoes or jacket up off the floor is risking her wrath. I hope it's the same for anyone trying to make off with my birds!

Theme Thursday: Pets

Now that Miss B. is a young bride, we wanted to try a fancier, more feminine hairdo. In the past, I’ve always had her groomed with a simple “teddy bear” or “kennel” clip-- a very basic cut that leaves about 1” of hair on the entire body. We wanted to see what she’d look like with a more traditional poodley cut.

There are lots of different ways to clip poodles, and there are historical reasons for some of the more traditional clips. Poodles were bred long ago as “water dogs” - they were used to assist hunters with retreiving their birds. Some speculate that the puffs of longer hair left around the joints of the legs were left there to keep the joints warm in cold water. Shaved areas created less resistance and made it easier for the dogs to move through the water.

Wook at deese wittle paws. Poodles were also known as “truffle diggers.” Smaller poodle breeds were used for finding truffles and the feet were shaved so that they’d do less damage to the fungus.



Our groomer recommended a “donut” around the snout, rather than the shaved face. We may try that next time, though.

Muffin tops. 

Poodles are known to be the second most intelligent breed (after Border Collies). They’re agile, obedient and good with children.

Miss B. needs to be groomed every 6 weeks or so, or her hair starts getting matted. A good argument, I think, for learning to groom at home.

Do you like the fancy do’s on dogs?  Or do you prefer the shaggy look?