Making Cheese



The advent of Molly, the calf, means our short milking respite is over and we're up to our eyeballs in milk.

Well, maybe not our eyeballs, but our extra fridge is often crammed full.  Molly drinks her fair share, the new calf drinks six quarts a day, the cats and the dog enjoy the milk and, of course, we use as much as we can while it's fresh.  We even pour a good amount to the chickens.  They love it.  (The hens need extra protein while they're molting and milk is, for us, a good, cheap source.)  Even so, we still have a lot leftover at the end of the day.   

So, I've been trying to be more deliberate about making more dairy products.  DH makes yogurt on a regular basis and DD makes butter a pound at a time.  I've made a couple of batches of sour cream.  (It tasted fine but the texture was very thin.  I think I may have to add milk powder or something to make it thicker.)  DD regularly makes us ice cream.  (Peanut butter is very good, especially if we have milk chocolate pieces to sprinkle on top!)  But the most challenging, by far, is making cheese.

The first cheese-making attempt was a total failure.  The kids and I wouldn't even try it.  DH bravely took a bite.  It must have tasted like rubber - it certainly squeaked like it.  The second batch was marginally better.  I think I shredded it, mixed it with store-bought cheese and put it on a pizza.  Hey, at least it was edible!  The third actually looked good.  It was tasty enough that we could cut very small slices and eat it with fresh basil and cherry tomatoes on crackers.

It really helped when I changed my thinking about cheese-making.  I finally realized it was far less like cooking or baking and a lot more like a chemistry experiment.  I had been frustrated by the fact that I'd done everything right; had followed the recipe exactly and the cheese still didn't turn out right.  I counted it a victory when, while I was making a batch of mozzarella, I was able to recognize that I needed to depart from the instructions and finish the cheese my own way.  Victory at last!  It was not only edible, it was good!    

Now that we have so much milk, I'm determined to do more experimenting with different types of cheeses.  I use Ricki Carroll's book.  

 

A couple times now I've made lactic cheese.  



 



 

This is a very easy-to-make soft cheese.  It's almost like cream cheese or cottage cheese when you're done.  I followed the suggestion in the book and added herbs and spices to half the batch.  This spread was so good on crackers that I also spread it on a whole-wheat, pre-baked pizza crust; added some shredded chicken I'd canned this summer; then topped the whole thing with shredded cheese. 

The resulting pizza was a big hit.  We served it with hot sauce and it was almost like a buffalo chicken-type taste. 

DH made me a cheese press so I could try my hand at hard cheeses.  I made up a farmhouse cheddar.

 

DH helped me to wax it with red cheese wax.  It's in the attic right now because it needs four weeks to age.  We can't wait to pull  it out around the new year and give it a try.  Even if it's not fit to eat, hey, at least we used up one more gallon of milk!

Good-bye, Jack. Hello, Stew.

We said good-bye to Jack last week. 

Originally we had brought him home to be a help and a playmate for our border collie, Fynn.  They played and wrestled constantly; except when Fynn was thieving Jack's bone and taunting him with it.  Jack was bigger but Fynn was much quicker.

They had became good friends and poor Fynn spent the first two days after Jack was gone lying on Jack's bed in the basement.  He wouldn't even lift his head when we called to him.

Jack was a good dog. He was such a goof.  He loved to play with anything he could get hold of.

 

But as he grew bigger he began roaming further and further from home.  We thought he was just hunting in the fields surrounding our home when actually he was visiting the neighbor's yard and even running in the road.  The neighbor was NOT happy and let us know about it.

We got an underground wire fence and a small receiver collar and we enclosed a couple of acres.  That collar was not strong enough to contain him so we bought a larger, stronger collar.  That held him in our yard for a few weeks but it created other problems because now we had a large, bored puppy. 

 

Jack began chewing everything; front door rugs, siding, trash can lids, sticks, etc.  He would pull logs off the wood pile and drag them up to the front door of the house to chew them.  He also began to dig holes in the yard.  But, worse, every time we rode the horses around the yard or in the nearby fields, he would stand behind his wire and bark and bark and bark constantly.

A couple of weeks ago we had a bad scare when Jack broke off his cable, ran across the wire fence boundary and chased DD's pony while we were out riding.  The pony, who had been behaving badly already, bolted straight for the road.  DD was clinging to his back but had lost both her stirrups and was completely out of control.  Thankfully Rio turned before the road but he galloped back up the lane toward the barn.

DH heard me yelling at the dog, ran out of the barn, jumped in front of the pony, threw his hands in the air and yelled, "Whoa."  Rio took a hard left turn into Calico's pen.  DD fell off and whacked her head on the driveway.  Of course she was wearing a helmet but when we examined it later it had cracked.  (We threw it away and got DD a new one.)  She lay on the driveway for a long time and then seemed quiet and slightly dazed for the rest of the evening.  She had blood on her lip and still has bruises on her back from the mishap but thankfully she has no lasting injuries.

We decided that was the last straw for Jack. 

We were able to find him a good family.  They have no horses, or grumpy neighbors, and they just love him.   

Fynn seemed depressed the first couple of days but quickly realized that no Jack means more attention for him.  He's back to being his usual happy self.

Shortly after Jack left, Stew arrived.

Technically he has no name, because he is destined for the freezer, but DD named him Stew. 

We bought him to help us use up all the extra milk Lily, our milk cow, produces.  We were hoping she would allow him to nurse directly but she would have none of that. 

So, three times a day, we warm milk on the stove and fill the biggest baby bottle you've ever seen.

 
And feed him ourselves.

 
Dairy bull calves have a shockingly high death rate but so far little Stew seems to be thriving.  And, as a bonus, he's drinking six pints of milk per day. 

Capturing a Swarm



 

This winter, so far, has been quite mild.  We had a brief cold snap, even some snow, a few weeks ago and the mornings are sometimes frosty but the temperatures during the day have been comfortable.

 

Our beehives were starting to look a bit worn and weather beaten.

 

 

We decided, when we created the bee yard, to order the "English Garden" style - peaked, copper roofs rather than flat, metal ones.  (We've since wondered if we made the right decision.  The fancy hives look nice but an extra work surface sure would come in handy when working the bees!)  And we decided, rather than painting the beehives white, that we would instead stain them.  We found an all natural oil that had a good reputation for holding up in the weather.

 

Our first two hives were stained before the packages of bees arrived.  We were all ready to install them in their new homes as soon as we got them.

 

We did not plan on the third bee colony.  We bought the hive earlier this spring on sort of a whim mostly because: it was inexpensive, it was for sale nearby, it matched our other hives and it was brand new (dangerous diseases can be spread by buying old bee equipment).  I didn't bother to stain the boxes but put it in the barn and mostly forgot about it.

 

Until DS came running into the house yelling that something was wrong with the bees.  Sure enough, they had swarmed. 

 

When the hive gets too crowded, the queen takes a number of workers and flies off to find a new home.  The bees left behind raise another queen and, in this way, the hive reproduces.  While scout bees are searching for a suitable place to live, the worker bees crowd around the queen.  This creates a noisy ball of bees that will only hang around for a short while.  If the swarm is accessible, and if you move quickly, they can be captured and installed in a new hive. 

DH and I raced to set up the extra hive and then ran for our veils and gloves.  Our idea was to shake them into a five gallon bucket then quickly close them in with a mesh, metal oven rack that we had laying around.  I volunteered to stand under the swarm with the five gallon bucket.  DH suggested he climb the tree with large clippers and cut the branch the swarm was on.  I thought that would startle them into flying off.  I told him just to climb the tree and give the branch a good, sharp whack and the ball would fall off the branch into the bucket.

Unfortunately, he took my advice and whacked the branch.  Most of the bees fell into the bucket.  Many of them showered down over my head and arms and landed on my boots and clothing.  When bees fall to the ground they do not necessarily fly off.  Usually they begin to climb (this is why we always tuck our pant legs into our boots!) and will crawl as high as they can.  Those bees began marching up my shirt, and since my arms were raised, began coming inside my veil, up my neck and into my armpits (I hadn't put on a long-sleeve shirt).

It's a little worrisome having bees crawling into some fairly sensitive places but I knew I could not freak out.  Carefully I set the bucket on the ground and began flicking bees off my clothing and arms.  DD came over to help brush bees off of me.
 

 

As I backed away from the bee yard I yanked off my veil and then my shirt (thankfully I was wearing a tank top underneath - ha!) and shook them out.  Once I was bee-free, I dressed and went back to the tree where a good number of bees still clung to the branch.

 

DH climbed the tree, clipped the branch and shook the remaining bees into the bucket with no further drama.  To his credit, he didn't give me too hard a time about my poor idea - much.  Thankfully, too, swarming bees are not very aggressive.  I was stung only one time.

 

This summer all the hives started to look a little weather worn and I knew, in any case, I needed to stain the little hive.  It's easy to see the difference between the stained and unstained boxes in this photo.

 

 

The trick was to find a day that was just perfect.  I wanted the temperature to be warm enough that my stain wouldn't freeze but cold enough that the bees wouldn't be too active plus I had to find the time.  My chance came one day last week.

 

 

I set to work, wearing a veil and gloves just to be safe, slapping stain onto all three hives.  I finished the backs and sides before gingerly working on the front of the box.  There were some bees coming and going but they didn't seem too upset by my presence.

 

If this coat of stain does not hold up better than the last, we're going to have to switch  out supers (boxes) one by one and paint them sometime next spring or summer.  They are typically painted white so the hives don't get too hot inside so we'll probably just go with that.  But that will be a job for another day.  I was just thankful everything came together to get this small job done before the worst of winter sets in.

We've Created a Monster . . .

We have a strict "No Animals in the House" policy.  I figure we spend enough time taking care of animals outside the house that we don't need to take care of (or clean up after!) them inside.  So we have no indoor critters.

Well, except for Lucky, of course.  Initially she was too little to be outside and as she grew older, well, we couldn't just kick her out.  Plus, every time we put her outside she would sit on the light by the front door and fly in whenever the door was opened.  So she was mostly indoors. 

Here DD has to cover up her bowl because BB (Bad Bird) is trying to steal her food.  She was quick! 

 

And then there was that time when the baby goat was sick so we had to bring her inside for a day (or two) . . .

 

 

And, of course, the baby chicks live in the basement in the brooder box for two weeks after they're hatched until they are big enough to move out to the barn.

 

 

And then, as I was looking through old photos I came across this one . . .

 

 

This is our farm dog, Fynn.  He's looking quite at home as he sits . . . on a chair . . . at our table!  Apparently one of the children let him into the house and recorded the event with a photo.  We do let the dogs into the basement at night during the winter but, really, sitting at the kitchen table is a bit much - even for my favorite dog!

 

Recently, despite this strict "No Animals in the House" policy that we rigidly enforce, we let one of the barn cats into the house.  This is Hobbes.

 

 

She was perfectly content as a barn kitty.  She had never been up to the house.  In fact, even as a small kitten when we first got her and Alice, her litter mate, we put them both in a room in the barn so they would learn that was their home. 

It's good to have a couple of barn cats not just to keep the mice out of the barn but also to keep stray cats off the property.  Feral cats will take up residence and, since they're not fixed, the population can quickly get out of hand.  We like to keep friendly, and fixed!, cats in the barn to stave off this problem. 

And Hobbes was satisfied with her lot in life until she wandered into the house one day.  Someone, I don't remember who, though it would be funny to bring her in and watch her reaction to seeing herself in the living room mirror.  She thought that was just fine and, in fact, began to make herself quite at home; stretching out on the carpet . . .

 

And, eventually, finding the soft, warm throw DD keeps on her bed.

 

 

She quickly and firmly made up her mind that she is now an indoor/outdoor kitty.  This idea was so firmly entrenched, that when DD bent to pick her up off her bed, Hobbes hissed and growled at her and even tried to bite her hand!  (This is totally out of character for this cat.)  DD had to pick up the whole bundle, blanket and cat, to dump Hobbes back out onto the front porch.

 

Now when it's cold or wet or dark or for any other excuse she can use, Hobbes regularly dashes between the two dogs to dive in the front door.  We see her there in the dark, hiding under the van, biding her time . . .  We've created a monster.

Molly

We named the new calf Molly.  She's growing like a weed and already has a mind of her own.  Lily is a good momma and watches her calf carefully.  We let Lily and Molly out of the barn on a beautiful day so they could enjoy the sunshine but poor Lily hardly had time to graze.  She spent her afternoon chasing Molly all over the yard calling, in vain, for her to come back.

Molly met the goats. 

 

And explored the yard.

 

 

We even put a rope halter on her for the first time.  She acted like we were trying to kill her.  She cried out, staggered around, ran backwards and dropped to the ground near the wood pile.  Lily was quite concerned.  She ran up and sniffed all over the halter even following the lead up to my hand before deciding we were not out to hurt her calf.

 

 

Molly tried to sniff noses with the dogs but Lily stonewalled that every time. She chased off the dogs if they even thought about getting too close. Jack ran off and hid behind the grill. He's been pounded by Lily a couple of times and wanted no part of that.



 

Eventually we left the cows alone for a bit and we worked in the house. Lily took her calf and wondered off behind some trees where we could only catch glimpses of them occasionally. After a while I realized I hadn't seen them in some time. I walked down around the back of the pond and still couldn't see them.  They had not come back from that direction so I kept walking and found them alongside the pond in some brush.  I was surprised at how difficult it was to see them while they were standing in the tall grass.

 

 

The calf had crossed a small ditch that held just enough water that Lily was reluctant to cross back but they were uncomfortably close to the pond. 

 

 

I pushed my way in to where they were and shoved Molly toward the clearing.  Lily readily followed once the calf got moving.

 

I'm sure Molly slept well that night after her first day of exploring the outdoors!

 



Peeps!

Typically  we think of chicks as a spring thing.  Easter and peeps just go together.  But this year we decided to arrange for chicks to arrive in the fall.  We'll confine them to the chicken area in the barn over the winter and they should begin laying by late spring.  If we had ordered them in the spring we'd have to wait all summer for them to begin laying.

We ordered a variety pack of brown egg layers from the hatchery this time .  It's kind of like a grab-bag; you get the odd bird or two left over from other orders.  They are all first quality birds but it's fun to have a variety of breeds in the flock.  We look forward to guessing, as they grow a little older, what breeds we have.

The phone call from the Post Office came while DH and I were out doing morning chores.  As I came in the house to put the milk in the fridge, I heard the phone ringing but could not get to it fast enough to pick up.  We knew the ETA on the chicks was this morning and so assumed they had arrived.  The peeps are LOUD and the folks at the Post Office are happy to have them picked up.

After chores were done, DD and I hopped in the car for the drive into town.  We saw a flock of wild turkeys in a nearby field.

 

The Post Office was still closed but we knocked on the back door and the postal employee brought the chicks out right away.

 

 

It's hard to believe there are 25 chicks in such a small box.  Twenty-five is the minimum order on chicken peeps.  This is so there are enough packed into the box so they can huddle together to keep warm until they arrive at their new home.

 

When we got home with the peeps, the dogs were convinced we had brought them some yummy, warm doggie snacks.  We had to push Jack out of the front seat.  He was eager to investigate the new smells and sounds coming from the box. 

 

 

The day before the chicks were to arrive, we had gotten the brooder box out of the barn where it had been stored after the last batch of peeps.  The chickens had been using it to roost on at night so it needed a fair bit of cleaning.  We pulled out the bag of chick starter food we'd bought at the feed mill and I scrubbed the feeder and waterer.

 

 

The chicks will be kept in the basement for the first two weeks.  It's nice and warm down there right now because of the wood stove.  I was hoping it would be warm enough for them without a heat lamp but when I checked the thermometer in the brooder box, the temperature was only 78 degrees.  We use a red light in our heat lamp instead of a white light.  Apparently the deeper color reduces the chicks pecking each other.

 

We lined the brooder box with newspaper and then covered the floor with straw.  The peeps cannnot be kept on only newspaper because they need a non-slippery surface to walk on; otherwise their little legs and feet may not develop properly.  DS and DD brought them over one by one and I dipped their little beaks into the water.

 

 

They caught on quickly.  The little cinnamon-colored one, in the photo above, planted one leg in the water and one leg in the straw and just drank and drank.  The hatchery said these chicks hatched on Wednesday. They were delivered Friday morning.  Peeps can live for two days without food or water but must be watered as soon as possible after they arrive.

 

 

It's nice to hear their little cheep, cheep, cheeps coming from the basement and we look forward to watching them grow!

The Sticky Bun Run

A couple of weeks before Thanksgiving DH and I saw an advertisement for a Turkey Trot in a nearby town.  In our lives BF (you know, Before the Farm) we enjoyed running and biking.  There was even a time when we regularly trained and competed in local races; 5Ks, 10Ks and even some half marathons and a triathlon.  Our lives here are very busy and active but we've not run or biked regularly since we've moved.  Still, we thought, we would enjoy a 5K on Thanksgiving morning.

Then DH looked into it and discovered it was not a 5K but a 10K.  We knew we were in no shape to run a 10K, plus we wanted DD and DS to run, too.  So we decided to make up our own.

DH looked on a map and measured out (approximately) a 3.2 mile route from our house.  We would run up the lane, down the road, turn between two specific telephone poles, angle across a neighbor's corn field, down a hill, across a stream, up a steep hill, hug the treeline along two more fields, down another hill, up another steep hill, turn right and run to the next road then turn around and run home along the road.

He showed it to me on the map.  It looked like waaaay longer than 3.2 miles.  It looked like forever.  I told him I'd do the first part - to about the third field - and then I'd run home and put the sticky buns in the oven.  Hey, someone has to be in charge of the sticky buns!

The day before, DH and I saddled up Rio and Calico and headed across the fields to preview our route.  We took along white, plastic grocery bags to rip into lengths and tie up into a couple of trees to mark our path.  (Good thing we had quiet horses as we flapped around on their backs with plastic bags!)

We even made t-shirts.

 

The front of the t-shirt has a picture of a sticky bun and it says, "1st Annual Sticky Bun Run.  November 22, 2012."

 

The back reads, "Run Your Buns Off."

 

I made the mistake of bringing along our large puppy, Jack, on the run.  He's been running with me before and, by the end of the run, he'd been behaving himself pretty well.  By the morning of the Sticky Bun Run he had completely forgotten all his previous training.  He pulled me along so much he nearly pulled me off my feet; he ran in front of me and stopped; he tried to stop at each interesting smell; he stopped and barked at every dog we passed; he ran between my legs, etcetera, etcetera FOR THE ENTIRE RUN . . . It was awful!

 

I ended up walking the majority of it out of sheer self-preservation.  DD walked with me.  Poor girl had felt sick and feverish the day before but she was willing to try.  DS and DH ran ahead.  DS finished most of the route we had planned and DH ran the whole thing.  He's awesome!

 

I went home and put the sticky buns in the oven.  It's a recipe called "Best Ever Sticky Buns" and they really are.  We only make them once or twice a year, during the holidays, otherwise we'd be eating them all the time.

 

Best Ever Sticky Buns

 

2 loaves frozen bread dough, thawed (I often will make bread dough in our bread machine instead of buying them frozen.)
Walnuts or pecans, optional
1 stick butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 large package of vanilla pudding - NOT instant
2 tsp. cinnamon
2 T. milk

(True confession time -- sometimes I double the "goo" part of the recipe.)

Grease bottom of a 9x13 pan.  Put nuts in pan.  Roll dough into walnut-size pieces.  Place in pan on top of nuts.  Heat together butter, sugar, pudding, cinnamon and milk until butter is melted.  Pour over dough.  Refrigerate overnight.  Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes the next morning.  Enjoy! 

Hope your Thanksgiving Day was delicious and full of thanksgiving!

The Horses

Although we've been on the farm less than three years, it seems like we've already had a lot of horses come and go. 

DH calls them "hay burners" or "money pits" (and of course he's right, in a sense) but I love horses.  I figure what's the point of living in the country if you don't keep a horse or two? 

Once we got (sort of) settled in, I started looking for a pony.  Shortly before we moved, we met a woman who told us about the fun she and her children had had driving their Shetland pony.  We bought a beat-up little pony cart from her and the kids had a blast one evening carting each other around our neighborhood.  Nearly three years later and that pony cart is still in pieces in the barn.  We'll get back to it . . . eventually.

Patchy Pony was our first equine.   His first owners called him "Cupcake" - ugh - so we re-named him "Apache."  We call him "Patchy Pony" except when we joke his name should be "Napoleon."  He's little but thinks he's all that. 

We took him to a clinic this summer and he learned to step up onto a pedestal.  He seemed so proud of himself!

DD rode him a little bit right after we got him.

 

But we're teaching him to drive so (eventually) he can pull the cart.

 

 

We were supposed to have Belle for only a few months but she ended up staying nearly a year and a half.  I kept hoping she would work out for us.  I (mostly) enjoyed riding her but I was the only one in the family who could - she had a wicked buck she would throw every once in a while and she would run her rider all over if she thought she could get away with it.  When she finally threw me off this summer, I reluctantly admitted she wasn't the quiet, family horse we were looking for and we took her back to her owner.

 

 

Tigger and Noah were camp horse retirees that came at the same time.  We bought Tigger and some friends, who were looking for a quiet horse for their children, bought Noah.  We kept Noah at our farm until they could get their barn put up and their fencing installed.  The children had a great time riding them all over the place. 

 

 

Unfortunately, shortly after Noah was moved into his new home, we realized that it was time to put Tigger down.  It was a tough thing to do but the right thing to do.  He was going downhill fast, despite all our efforts.  I had hoped he would live here years and years but it got to the point where it was more cruel to keep him, so we had to say goodbye.  He was a wonderful horse and we have some great memories of him.

 

Patchy was the only equine in the pasture for a while.  He became so lonely he even stooped to the point of fraternizing with the goats.  I was looking for a horse quiet enough for the family to ride but lively enough for DD to jump and maybe take cross-country.  

 

We really took a chance on Rio. 

 

He came from a horse rescue after he was sold through auction.  I chose to buy him based on a few pictures, a description and a short video.  We named him "Rio Grande Cowboy" and arranged to have him shipped up to the farm.   

 

My heart sank as he stepped off the shipper's trailer.  He was thin and beat up and had a huge, open, seeping wound under his chin.  The woman pushed on one side of the lump and pus streamed out onto the ground.  It was obvious he had strangles.

 

 

He was put into strict quarantine for six weeks while he rested, healed and gained some weight.  Once he was better, we arranged for him to be seen by the equine dentist, the farrier and the veterinarian.  When DD and I got a chance to work with him under saddle, we found he's a lot of fun to ride.  He's quiet but eager to please and is ready to run if you ask him to step it up.  I think he'll be a good match for our family.

 

 

     DD rode him in a clinic this fall with some girlfriends and their ponies. 

 

 

Well, now that we had a mount for one of us we (obviously!) needed another horse.  DD and I would take Rio out and take turns riding him in the fields near our farm, or she would work on exercises she'd learned during her riding lessons while I watched.  But I did not feel comfortable sending her off on the trails by herself on this pony we didn't really know.  We needed another horse.

 

Just before Thanksgiving, Calico was brought to our place.

 

 

Calico is a Tennessee Walker.  He's used during the summer as a child's camp horse but in the spring and fall he is transportation for a judge at dog field trials.  He just came off a three week field trial where, we were told, he was ridden on average thirty miles a day.  Needless to say, he's very fit.

 

There was a striking difference in height when he met Patchy and Rio over the fence!

 

 

I'm so excited to have another quiet, fun horse to ride!  We've already taken Rio and Calico out on trail rides.  In fact, a minor miracle happened - DH rode Calico!  We've been married fourteen years and I believe this is the third time I've seen him on a horse.  It's really good of him to appease me every once in a while. 

 

But this time he had his own reasons to go riding.  We went out a day ahead of time to map the route for our first Sticky Bun Run.  But that's a post for another day . . .