snow after the storms... and rabbit updates

For probably the last two weeks we have been enduring winds from all directions, making our already chilly weather absolutely frigid. As many people who have lived both close to and away from the ocean know, the cold is much more pervasive which it's accompanied by the dampness that creeps into your bones. I know that around the state everywhere, temperatures are record-breaking low for November, and Seldovia seems to be no exception. It's my first real winter keeping animals while also attempting to conserve electricity, so while in the past I have used heated water bowls, this year I'm hauling warm water twice or three times daily. The rabbits are the only ones who don't seem to be bothered by drinking cold water; they'll continually break the surface of the ice as it continues to freeze, creating intriguing tunnels of ice in their bowls.

The kits that were kindled a couple of weeks ago are finally adorable little bundles of fuzz that mama doe doesn't need to keep covered in the nest. Two didn't make it through the first week, so we are down to two survivors. They haven't ventured out of the box yet, but I anticipate that to happen any day.


Several days ago during my evening chores, I heard a rabbit shrieking and figured it was one of the kits complaining of the cold. I didn't notice anything in the rabbitry amiss, so retired for the night. The following morning, I found one of the junior does stuck in the fence behind the colony box. One of her rear paws passed through the chicken wire twice, and both her head and one foreleg was also through the wire. She wasn't moving, but still bright-eyed and alive. After I managed to get her out of the tangle she was in, I brought her inside for three days in hopes of nursing her back to a timely recovery. The paw that went through the wire twice was swollen to at least twice the size of the other paws, and she was extremely lethargic. I didn't go the whole route of applying cold compresses or anything, but I made sure she got plenty to drink and eat without needing to use the wounded paw and warmed her up for a while. After three days of learning how much a rabbit really does pee, I returned her to the rabbitry with a still-swollen, but usable paw. She seemed to enjoy her time chilling with the cat by the woodstove.

I'm excited to get first-hand knowledge of how fast these particular rabbits grow. I'm not sure of the age or breed of any of these rabbits, so their suitability for economic meat-raising is accordingly unknown. Both the adult doe and buck are good size (5+ lbs), but from what I understand about viable meat rabbits, they should be ready for butcher (and around 5 lbs) around 12 weeks. The junior does I received with their parents are around that age at least, but not quite 5 lbs. This could either be due to breed, feeding, or housing. All the juniors are shaping up nicely, but now I'm wondering if living colony-style causes them to keep trimmer because they get more exercise. I plan on piecing together a nice big hutch here in the next few weeks out of a large salvaged sawbuck we used to cut milled lumber slabs into firewood, and I'll post more on the bun-buns then.

A snowy hello from the Ramshackle Rabbitry!

Colony Rabbit-Keeping

Less than a month ago, my boyfriend's sister gave our son two young rabbits and a very nice hutch. I've been interested in keeping rabbits ever since I ate my first domestic one a few years ago but I never wanted to deal with cleaning the cages, and it always seemed cruel to keep them in cages anyways. So I improvised, knowing I had time to figure it out as I went along, as both rabbits we received are does. I found an old metal bunkbed frame at the dump, strapped the pieces together for fencing around the hutch, and then wrapped the frame-fence in chicken wire. I let them out of the hutch during the day, and considering the problems I recently had with weasels, I secure them in the hutch at nightfall. In their yard I placed a large wooden box upside down with a door cut into it, and a particleboard ramp leaning against that. Because we were approaching our first snowfall when I constructed this ramshackle rabbitry, I didn't worry about burying the wire to prevent them from burrowing. I'll worry about that come spring. 

My son, his trains, and the mack-daddy hutch

We named this one Satin

A better picture of hutch

The Ramshackle Rabbitry

Well about a week ago some folks in town heard that we acquired rabbits and contacted me, saying they had 4 bunnies and two breeding adults they needed to get rid of. I guess maybe some things are meant to happen? Although I had meant to ease into raising rabbits slowly, how could I pass up free bunnies when I already had the set-up going? So a few days ago I picked up the doe and the buck, leaving behind the two-month old kits until I acclimated them to my other rabbits. I put a wire kennel in front of the box-hole door with the back of the kennel removed, so the new rabbits could go in and out of the box, but still be separated from the original rabbits. To keep them temporarily safe from weasels in the wee hours, I just slide a board over the box-hole door at night. 

The new box colony

Yesterday I brought the 4 new bunnies home, and shoved them in the box colony as well. Because the snow turned to slush today and I was feeling sorry for the soggy little fuzzy buns, I decided to give them a little incandescent light in there as well, plugging it in to the timer loop I have going for the rest of my menagerie. Well I opened the lid of the box, and saw a bunch of grey rabbit hair from the doe. I knew from what little research on rabbits I've done that this was a classic nesting sign. And lo and behold! I found a cozy little nest in which five tiny kits were snuggled! The doe must have kindled either the first or second day I brought her here. What timing! So now I have a total of 13 rabbits, that is if all kits survive. I thought about bringing them inside, but I think it's better for them to have the body warmth of their family and their mama's milk. I didn't snap a picture yesterday, but the following photo is from today, and it appears that mama moved some of the kits into a different nest. Either that or there is a new litter! I'll have to go investigate when I have a few free moments. 

Two tiny nests in the forefront, and one of the adolescent bunnies

I worried about the adolescent rabbits trampling the nest, so today I set out to introduce the 4 junior does to the original rabbits and devise some kind of third bachelor pad for the buck(s). All in hopes of giving mama some space to raise her new kits. I asked a few friends to help me sex the little buggers, and all three of us believe that the 4 adolescents I brought home yesterday are does. So I let them and the original bunnies have the run of the hutch and yard, kept mama and kits in the second box colony, and set up a small buck yard for daddy.

Daddy-O in his lonely little yard where he can kiss his kiddos through the fence

The Ramshackle Rabbitry- hutch in the back, box colony in front, 

triangular bachelor pad on the far right behind the box.

For now, until a new litter appears somewhere (hence I either sexed wrong or Daddy-O knocked up one of his lil gals), I think I've got things under control. In the meantime, I'll have to look further into keeping rabbits in outdoor colonies as opposed to hutches. The workload seems much more manageable, for both the daily feeding and cleaning chores as well as setting up housing for them. My plan is to provide the junior does with more furniture and hiding spots, cover the entire Rabbitry with a tarp tent, and probably butcher some of the does when the current kits are hopping around. I'll open up the box colony then, and when I'm ready for more kits (probably not until spring), join Daddy-O back into the fold for a bit.

Anyways, I look forward to writing more about keeping rabbits in colonies as I gain more experience, but what a way to start off a rabbitry! Kits on the second day of introducing a new clan! 

Taming of the nigoras

In September I purchased two nigora goats from White Fireweed Farm, a three year old F1 doe, Belta a third year freshener (hopefully presently bred), and her 3/4 angora doeling, Olga Petunia, who is now 10 months. They were pasture goats, enjoying free reign of many acres of pasture in the summer. They are pretty wild and unaccustomed to much human contact. I knew I was facing a challenge when I bought them with an intent to milk them.

Living in semi-remote coastal Alaska presents some transport difficulties with obtaining livestock in itself, not to mention the fact that Alaska is huge and the goats were 12 hours away by road alone. Add on to that another 2-3 hours aboard the ferry. And consider that that 14-15 hours is just actual in transit time, not including the waiting, the overnighting, the stops, and the general slower pace at which traveling with a toddler requires. I planned the pick-up in Fairbanks in conjunction with my return from a lower 48 trip in order to reduce overall travel, but neglected to look into the state ferry schedule, the last leg of the trip home. The ferry we were counting on to get us home had been postponed another 4 days! Long, drawn-out explanations aside, the poor goats ended up spending a total of 6 days in the back of the truck! =( Not a good start to our relationship! The confinement, combined with an unpleasant attempt to get them some fresh air in Anchorage (resulting in Belta running around the suburban streets of my mom's neighborhood while the school bus dropped off junior-high kids! yikes!), made for a flinchingly uneasy introduction to life with their new people.

So when I first brought them to the farm, I didn't have a whole lot of time to gently get acquainted with them right away. I hadn't completed their quarters, and life with a toddler while Daddy's working on the tug boat doesn't leave a whole lot of time for leisurely time with the animals. I hadn't finished buttoning up the garden for the winter either... I kept repeating the mantra "there is only one me" to remind my self that I can't do it all. 

For the first week or so, they'd pretty much hurl themselves against the opposite fence when I went anywhere near them. They seemed to enjoy the chickens, so I decided to show them that the chickens liked me. I sat in the yard and let the chooks give me their kind of lovin'. I worked around the goats without giving them much attention, just to let them get used to me at their own pace without exerting too much pressure on them. And I kept leaving them forage: raspberry canes, outer cabbage leaves from the garden, parsnip and carrot tops. 

Belta and Olga keeping a safe distance from Evil Me

Belta accepting raspberry leaves from Evil Me. 

Unexpectedly, Olga is taking longer to warm up to me than mama Belta.

I try to not be in a hurry about them liking me although, seriously, my heart aches to be able to touch their fiber and have them love me like the goats we had before. We've had them for about a month now and the other day I realized that I had better start making some progress with them, especially Belta whom I hope to milk after she kids in January or February. So this week, I started putting my son on my back and taking him with me to grain them, so we could try waiting it out until they eat out of my hand. To my surprise, a few moments after I knelt down in the pen, my outstretched hand brimming with grain, Belta approached closer than she had ever before braved. She sniffed a bit, and chowed down. I refilled my hand three times, and during this time Olga snuck up but didn't get involved. 

I've been feeding Belta about a cup or more of grain out of my hand at every feeding (twice a day) for about 5 days now. Then I feed the rest in two separate dishes, and this way I'm ensuring that Belta, who is hopefully pregnant, after all, is getting a bit more than Olga at each feeding. Last night I tried to scratch under her chin while she was munching, but I think she still needs a bit more time- she pulled back. I'd like to have my other hand free so that I can try and scratch her between her hornbuds, but she eats so fast that I have to refill my hand rather quickly. And she's still stretching her neck waaaay out to reach my hand; we're not quite pals yet. But, they don't leave the shed when I come in, or even dart out their popdoor when I enter their quarters to refresh water or hay. They know when it's grain time, checking me out as I dole out their individual portions. Belta approaches the gate when I'm done, knowing to expect some hand feeding. Olga hasn't braved it out yet, but I'm sure she will after she's confident that her mama knows best.

Chickens & Weasels

I started my flock out this spring with 9 chicks from Sterling Meadows Hatchery, a motley little clutch of 3 Orpingtons (Black, Lavender, and Black and White Splash), a Black Copper Maran, 2 Mille Fleur D'Uccles, and one each Rhode Island Red, Aracauna, and Barred Plymouth Rock.

They pretty much took care of themselves this summer while I was on overload with setnetting, and grew into beautiful (and handsome) pullets and cockerels.

Well, this fall wreaked havoc on them, particularly the influx of weasels looking for a good meal or just a good massacre. The first to fall were my noisy bantam Mille roos. Both of them in the same night. I never did get a good picture of frilly little Tilly and Dilly! Although they were slated for butcher anyhow (too much cocky action with three roosters), it is a seriously unfortunate event to find that some little foot-long bastard already finished them off for you & tainted all that good stock you were looking forward to! We set a livetrap with one of the Mille carcasses, and caught a slinky little ermine, of which we promptly dispatched to smithereens.

Shortly after that event, three pullets escaped their newly-expanded run on nightfall, and the Rhode Island Red didn't make it back the next morning. So we were plodding along modestly at about an egg a day (the Orpingtons or Aracauna hadn't started laying yet) for about two weeks, everybody pretty content with one big ROOmonster, Pharaoh, and his 5 hen harem.

Then the little bastard struck again. I found my beautiful big rooster sprawled out in the sopping duff by the light of my headlamp. By the way his beak was tucked down into his chest, it looked to me like he had been drug around by the neck a bit. I guess I had gotten a little lackadaisical about securing them in the coop by nightfall after I started giving them supplemental light in the evenings until 8. The light did not deter the ermine as I thought it would. I didn't make it out to the coop until 830, and by that time Pharaoh was already cold and stiff. Now not only was this a magnificent specimen of cluck-cluck cockiness to be simply appreciated and missed, but he would have provided a good hunk of meat too.

I panicked and felt my heart up in my throat as I buried Pharaoh in the compost pile and worried about the hens. I set the livetrap again (baited with salami now- just couldn't deal with hackin' off a hunk of Pharaoh at this point), and while I was fumbling with the contraption, I saw the nasty cute little bastard scampering through the run IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!!! Now, from everything I've heard and read, these small weasels pretty much only hunt during dusk and dawn.  And here goes this brutally brash little bugger traipsing through the chicken yard, darting between scrawny pullet legs, and nary taking a nibble! My dog Hazel and I spotted him and yelped, barked, charged, and generally raised a ruckus. I dashed inside to grab the cat, and staked him out (not physically literally staked) near where I saw the ermine skitter away to.

At this point, I'm resolved to lock up the chickens and rabbits snugly before dusk, which is an aggravating task with a toddler in tow in the pouring rain when the animals aren't quite ready to hit the hay. I could take the more proactive road and set out to kill that ermine bastard, but I know another one would quickly take his place, and the trapping and drowning (how I imagine offing an ermine) would never end. Another (impossible) option would be to try and make the entire run weasel-proof. They have been reported to fit through an inch opening, can climb, gnaw, dig, and rip welds. Nah, I think I'll take the more preventative, precautious, permaculturally trodden path of avoiding predators, like our native prey would naturally do.  Perhaps over time and generations, evolution and natural selection will give my strain of chickens and rabbits a heightened sense of predator evasion? For now, I just have to be sure their safe-havens are just that. Ramshackle bomb-proof. And put the cat on duty.

I'd be interested in other peoples' approaches to rodent-control. I've done a bit of poking around in online forums, and I've only come across the two options of trapping and fencing them out. Does anybody out there have any other ideas? Some kind of voodoo herbal mojo chant or the likes?

Background Noise....

I'll start out on this journal venture with a little about this place and what we're doin' here. We live on 42 acres of steep coastal northern temperate rainforest land in Seldovia, Alaska. The ridge slopes down to a flat meadow which almost borders the slough lagoon, emptying into and filling up with Seldovia Bay waters. In the forties, the original owners of the two-acre parcel pastured a few cows in the meadow, so even before the mud-wracked road was laid in the nineties, this was a farm. And we have always called it 'the farm' from the time my dad purchased it in 2001. But a decade ago, our intentions of farming were limited to a small kitchen garden and landscape renovation.

More recently, we purchased 200 bloomin' blueberry plants from Michigan, planted them in rows atop rotting spruce logs, and failed miserably at protecting them from their first Alaskan winter (which was unusually cold and barren of snowcover), and hence also failed at cultivating our blueberry ranching dream. Temporarily, at least. I did manage to have the foresight to plant a small nursery patch of each of the various cultivars, and those are thriving, albeit needing elbow room and row-covering to truly reach their potential. I'll write more on that at a later date, as I do plan on dividing and expanding our berry patch in the near future.

Around that time, my dad also acquired two wethered dairy bucks (which was another adventure worth a few jaunts down the memory lane of goat antics), and my sister and dad dabbled around in beekeeping.  They kept them for two years, and actually had enough luck to see quite a few bees through the winter. But the second summer was a year notably low in pollen availability, and they ended up providing the bees sugar water throughout most of the summer, and the quality of the honey suffered. No color or depth, but still worth harvesting. In retrospect, both my dad and sister say there was probably enough spruce pollen at least to suffice. This is another topic I'll revisit later in this blog, as I do plan on rejuvenating the hives with a spring bee order.

This property was purchased in two parcels. The lower 2-acre piece came with a two-story 2 BD, 1BA gingerbread ticky-tacked cottage house tucked back in a sitka spruce copse, a pooshky & fireweed field flopped out before it, with a protected but spacious cathedralesque view of the saltwater lagoon, that briny artery to town. There was a redwood snorkel hottub and faded shingle shopshed, a rotting log bridge across our tricklin' crick, and no direct sun in winter. Dad weed-whacked a ton that first summer, then finally bulldozed the field of native herbaceous growth. I started my inaugural garden here with a covered double-swing to enjoy it on. We shoveled labrynthine pathways through the snow and I returned from college & settled in. A couple years later, Daddy-O bought the forty-acres caddy-corner to the lower field. 40 acres of steep lowlands alder scrimmage and prickly thickets of spruce and devil's club understory. A year-round creek, and one top corner of the parcel even corralled the gorgeous gorge biting into said creek. South-western exposure.  Dad had a road cut in up the mountain the same summer I put up a wall-tent over-looking Seldovia Bay.

We've made a lot of changes to this little slice of landscape, and we've gone through a lot of alterations in  other aspects of life, too. A whole lot happens in 10 years. We've added on to the shopshed to accommodate goats and chickens, turned a relocated greenhouse into a new workshop, fell and milled choice swaths of spruce, expanded gardens and tinkered contentedly. My man and my son and I currently live in the original 80s era cottage and keep up with the continual maintenance. Future projects include building a milled-log house, sauna, and greenhouse out of salvaged windows. Current preoccupations include chickens, goats, rabbits, and permaculture intentions.

Here are a few shots of our place & life.

So that's the short story on the neck of these woods. What's led you to deliberate your intentions?