SNOW BIRDS

Two intrepid Canadians flew to the Deep South for a couple of weeks.  My mother and my stepfather divvied their time up between NC, AL and FL.


 Here at the farm, they were given the full immersion treatment.  A working holiday, I say.  Indentured servitude, others may claim!

Scrubbing our sweet potatoes

My goal is to be as self-sufficient as possible without driving myself crazy.  We prepared store bought organic chickens and pork tenderloins for smoking.  However, the goose was one that Cole and I bagged last Fall.


Pre-smoking!



Chuck at the helm




Chuck flew solo on the smoker while I tinkered with other projects.



Check out those birds


Let the naysayers who claim that my oxen are useless behold the Parsnip.  Over two feet long thanks to the boys' gift to the garden.




Normal one to the left,  Steroid Parsnip to the right.



Mom demonstrating how one goes about collecting 'gifts' for the garden.

Even Cole is required to participate in his own food gathering.




Hunting in one's backyard:  bliss!

Nothing here is wasted.  That one squirrel will make a fine stew to enhance the dogs' kibbles.

Getting Cole's approval before putting it in the pot.

Visits from great friends punctuated the week.  Good reasons for dinner parties, I say!
A member of my Texas family stopped over to demonstrate his uncanny knack at poultry taming.

Sebastian...a real chick magnet.

Chuck and I played commandos at the rifle range and we went to a gun club to shoot skeet...no finer way to spend a couple afternoons.

My friend, Doyle, was our instructor.



"Did I finally hit one?"


















Just as challenging and frustrating as golf.  Highly unlikely though that a bad day at the skeet range would result in a shotgun sawed into bits.  Ask my Dad what happened to his golf clubs 30 years ago after a bad round...

Chuck, the annihilator.

One night of Tornado Warnings reminded the travelling duo that they weren't in Canada anymore.  Gotta do what you can to protect your valuables from severe hail.




Trying to protect the rental car

 While Dr. Parker is on holidays, I have become farm manager.  Nothing to it really:  feeding and herding goats. 


Pied Piper

 ...unless they start dropping their babies everywhere.  I think it's time Dr. Parker got his buns off the Costa Rican beach and come home.  A first time nanny ditched her twins this afternoon in the back of the pasture.  She refused to let them nurse.  I used my powers of persuasion to readdress her attitude.  We're still in the early stages of negotiations, she no longer kicks them away and half the time, I don't need to tie her horns to a corner post and brace her with my knee to allow the kids to suckle.  Progress is good.


The barn is still my favorite place to be---even at ten o'clock at night!

 This nanny is from a long line of poor mothers.  Two years ago, she was the first goat I saved. Her mama had abandoned her too. I had to milk the colostrum from her mother and force feed her.  Let's hope she bonds to her twins overnight because I have a busy day at work tomorrow.  

It's never dull around here.