How to build a goat barn in 12 easy steps!

Step 1 - Buy a pregnant goat! (Nothing like a little pregnancy to inspire motivation ;o)

Step 2 - Select location. Be sure the area is sloping well and the soil is littered with 100 year old cedar stumps waiting to be unburied.

       

Step 3 - Purchase foundation blocks. Spend an entire week nudging and positioning all 13 so they are perfectly aligned and square.

 Step 4 - Add beams. These will be supported and held delicately into place with t-posts. Use a level to adjust them so they are plumb and vertical. Step carefully. Pray for windless nights.

Step 5 - Frame in the floor (naturally, this will need to be level, despite the sloping terrain).

Step 6 - Roof beams. Go to the hardware store for galvanized metal brackets. Buy more than you will ever need so you don't have to go back. Drag beams and brackets to work site. Immediately return to the hardware store for mosquito repellent.

Step 7 - Add cross beams. Stand back and adore work. Begin wondering how you're going to screw on  metal roofing sheets without falling through.

Step 8 - Add floor. Pray it does not rain.

Step 9 - Attach sides (if you have strength left after dragging them all the way down there!).  

Step 10 - Continue attaching sides. Realize that you have cut the left front section twice and the center front section - not at all. Return to lumber store for more sheets of ply and another whole bucket of stain.  

Step 11 - Discover that it's awfully dark in there without window. Remove section, cut window, and re-attach.

Step 12 - Complete with a swinging door after much thought toward the direction in which it should open.

Finally - Add happy goats :o)

Muscovy Ducks: The other red meat.

HEY GRANDPA!     WHAT'S FOR SUPPER?

Actually, we'll have to wait a few months before this troop is ready for the soup pot, but these are all muscovy ducklings from a single clutch - and that's not even our largest hatch! (Tops was 15 ducklings from a single hen, though there are usually some losses throughout the season). Yep! Muscovies are indeed prolific and the hens are pretty good mothers. What we're doing in this photo actually is moving the family to safer quarters. While geese are easy to herd, ducks are not, particularly a panicking hen with a large brood. We've learned that the easiest way to move them is not to try and herd the family, but to scoop up all the ducklings and carry them. Mom will eagerly follow.

Unlike the ducks with which you are likely familiar, Muscovies are quite different. In fact, if you've never seen one before, you might actually wonder what you're staring at. They're MUCH larger than ducks from "Mallard stock". They have claws, and red "carunkles" over their eyes. They do not quack, but communicate in an alien sort of way by hissing or bobbing their heads back and forth.

 ("Tuxedo" is our big male. His emerald plumage is beautiful in the sunlight, but lighter feathers make for prettier carcasses. We typically keep 1 male for 3 - 4 females).

 Muscovies are curious and friendly. The females are good flyers, (the males are too big for lift off), and the forage fairly well for themselves. They come in a variety of colors and patterns including pied, white, chocolate, green, blue, lavender and fawn. What I find particularly fascinating is that the ducklings look nearly all alike, but develop distinctive colors or patterns as they grow.

"Pinto" is one of our oldest and best mother hens. She has hatched numerous clutches. Her last successful attempt was in the dead of winter when she hid her eggs under a rabbit hutch and used stolen bits of rabbit fluff to build a fur lined nest! 

Dress weight for males are between 5 - 7 lbs. Females 4 - 5 lbs. The meat is ruby red. It resembles beef both in looks and flavor. We have cooked muscovy duck a number of ways over the years, but our favorite method is the lazy way - smoked duck. We discovered this one evening after the burgers were removed and we didn't want to waste charcoal. Here's how: Cool fire by stirring in a handful of moist fruit wood chips, slap on said duck and return to your TV watching. Turn bird every commercial break. After an hour or so - voila!

This past summer we had an explosion of muscovy ducklings thanks to three hens who avoided freezer camp by hiding in the bushes only to reappear 35 days later with a grand following. All told, I believe we had 40 ducks at one point.

We occasionally keep a lucky duckling that looks promising...but who stays and who goes is often a point of some contention. While one of us aims to perpetuate stock that's lighter and larger, the other of us selects for more sentimental reasons.  "P.D." for example, was kept because she looks like a police car.  Oy!

She's a pretty little thing who certainly seems the perfect blend of both her mom, AND her dad!

Greetings

"Consider it a newsletter to family and friends, but without all the multiple copies and stamp licking!". And with that, I was able to convince my reluctant Dear Partner that blogging could be a practical and non-dangerous undertaking, or at least no worse than the axe in the woodshed. I will begin at the beginning in a moment, but first a warm greeting to our readers, and a heartfelt thank you for your visits. I will try to provide an honest glimpse into our lives and activities, not all of which are progressive or by any measure a success. I may dig up the courage to share future goals along the way so you can muse over the progress (or lack thereof) toward meeting them. Your comments and suggestions are also welcome and we do hope to hear from you. Please drop us a note on your way out, and don't forget your muck shoes.

 

Little Cricket Farm was conceived in the comfort and elegance of a turn-of-the-century brownstone in the coveted Capital Hill neighborhood of Seattle. Was it a latent gene kicking in? or a sudden distrust in government's ability to maintain social security?  This remains uncertain, but it definitely started with goats.

Back when we had high speed in that lovely apartment, I stumbled upon a goat forum, and for some curious reason, a seed was planted. I made endless trips back to that website, lurking and listening in on conversations from goat owners across the globe. Suddenly, the flower box outside our kitchen window was simply not enough. Like a cascade of books falling from a shelf, an intense preoccupation developed concerning various types of livestock, plant growing techniques, soil management, barns, tractors, on and on. Maps, plans, and calculations became dreams on paper. Spyware trackers were dizzy with the fury of web browsing in a dozen different directions. On weekends, The Sunday Times was replaced with The Little Nickle. On summer evenings, I would gaze to the east from my balcony where miles and miles away I imagined a farmer must be finishing the last of  his chores, and his wife would be calling him in for dinner. 

It would be another year at least before the hot economy bubble lifted just enough that we could sneak into the party, and many more years before my hand would touch our goats. When the real estate transaction closed and we were proud property owners, I put a fistful of earth in a plastic baggy and sent it to my mother. And yet, the acreage was completely overgrown. The house was dilapidated, riddled with bullet holes and without central heating. (Our new neighbors brought us firewood the first year). I remember it was cold that first year, exhausting and wet. There were no street lights. No restaurants. We could hear wild things howling at night... I also remember the day we brought home our first two chickens, or the night we cooked our first complete home grown meal.

Would I do it again? Exchange all that luxury, the glittering lights of the city, a life of friends, theaters and dining out for the mud and uncertainty of the country? The answer depends on when you ask! 

  

There are tasks so grimy or overwhelming that the reply would be a resounding "no! Hell NO!"

 ...and then, there are moments so precious, so remote from most people's experience, so unimaginable back in that city apartment, I am filled with a feeling of life, truth, and immense fortune.   

   

Ah, c'est la vie!