Raindrops fell into the dewy grass and created a quiet hush in the early daylight. Or at least it was hushed until I brought my tired baby and rambunctious kiddo kicking and screaming out of the house to wrangle some birds before 7 am.

Our pastured poultry are raised in pens that we rotate over fresh grass at least once per day. These pens provide plenty of space to forage grasses and grubs, focus the nutrient-rich manure, and most importantly provide safety. Our birds live out their days happily without a care in the world. That’s usually what happens. After having cattle with these pens all summer, our docile mama cows decided they wanted to rip apart our pens, push around the frames and become chicken bullies. 

A few days prior to the general destruction we noticed the girls slightly rubbing and nudging the pens. We attributed it to curiosity and decided to keep an eye on it. Costly mistake.  After wrangling nearly 100 birds, two times before noon I decided the remedy was happening that afternoon once the hubby dearest came home with the pick up. We moved pens, chickens, ducks and kids back and forth across the road countless times.

Bed-time seems to be something normal families do for their children, but as a full-time mama dragging children around as I go about my lady-farmer business there seems to be a trend of working until dark and throwing multi-grain cheerios or Graham crackers at them for a snack. Hubby Dearest helps where he can, but often times that means we are working to dark as a family unit. 

Thus we were moving chickens, ducks, and pens at 8.30pm with kids starting to fuss (Cue more Graham crackers) and the sun starting to sink beneath the treeline. 

As I start to feel the season change from summer into fall I am anxious to see what the peak of our season will bring. I know we will have over 300 broilers, 8 pigs, our first sow, 13 cattle, an incredibly handsome horse and handful of laying lady ducks/hens in September into October. It may not seem like much, but it’s our biggest year yet and it has me giving pep-talks to myself and self high fives on the daily. So many unknown trials, adventures, tantrums, animal escapes, and special moments to come.

Getting pumped for the peak of our 2017 season. Bring it on fall. 

(Smiling instead of getting frustrated)

Sun peeked over the tree line, through the fog and made the chickens seem to glow against the glistening grass. It was cold enough to give me a little pep in my step as I ran out in my pajamas to let out the chickens and check on the broilers. The cows bellowed from the next pasture over, apparently recognizing my half skipping gait, and as I turned the door knob to follow my toddler inside, I ran into a locked door with my face.

Bless her heart toddler Q had deadbolt ed the door and locked me out. One of her many skills that she’s acquired at the ripe age of 2.5 going on 13, her door maneuvering has made it tricky to contain her or for me to get back into the house if I forgot to pocket the keys. 

This morning as I sat down to nurse little man J, she ran out to ‘rescue a chicken’ that had flown the fence. The chicken was fine, but she was out of the door lickity-split with bright purple shoes and no pants to rescue the chicken formally known as the New Gramma (because old gramma had an accident with a predator this fall.) True to form Q picked up that chicken and waited for me to open the gate which proved to be difficult since I was chasing her with shoes half on and a baby half asleep on my hip.

It’s easy to be energized on sunny spring days. To dream, and scheme and marinate on what the sunny months will bring. Today was a day for magical moments, toddler gallavants, childhood memory making and laughter as we did chores for 2 hours when they should only taken 20 minutes. The daffodils are peeking through green buds while the song birds chirp with the afternoon sun and I let the energy of these days motivate me for the hectic season to come.

​As I laid awake before dawn it was silent. My toddler had finally decided to sleep, the house was quiet, and I even considered trying to fall back asleep for a few more blissful moments. Then the first rays of light struck our little farm.

At first it was just one or two birds tweeting their good morning tune in the distance, then a few more trickled into the medley, and soon it was a cacophony of bird calls next to my window. Then the cows chimed in. I could hear them chewing, slurping, and mooing mere feet from my window. Laying hens began crowing at the sun and I basked in the awesome music my farm was making as it woke up for the day, while cursing the daybreak and begging it to be quiet so my kid would sleep just a little longer.

I just tried to keep up with the day from that moment on. Attempted to be a functioning member of society between farm chore rounds. Chores- play date- chores- lunch- chores- nap time- chores- farm visit- chores, chores, chores… and even still, throughout all those rounds of farm related activities, the moment folks come out to visit the farm the animals seem to revolt.

We had customers for a maximum of 20 minutes and in that time the sheep managed to poop in their water, likely the same troublesome sheep re-broke the meat bird tractor, the poults in the brooders made an escape and were wandering off our front porch to their impending doom, and the kiddo took off her boots (which have yet to be found) and was running around like a wild child covered in mystery manure. It was chaos.

Of course the friendly folks did not seem to mind the hullabaloo, but I was frazzled as I waddled around after chicks trying to put them back into the brooders, as I wrangled my poop covered kid and hosed her down for the 10th time, and as I tried to make a short term remedy for the chicken tractor that had been crushed by wooly ruminants! Poultry transport cages were in the front yard, a half done chicken tractor awaited completion in the back yard, and toddler toys littered everywhere in between, it was indeed chaos at the Melville Farms homestead. 

But it’s my chaos. Beautiful chaos. As much as I strive to have things perfect for farm visitors, I’m glad my kid runs wild and free not worried if she has dirt under her nails or if she’s using her dress to collect rocks and dirt clods. I love raising my meat birds in the pasture where they can forage fresh ground every day. Sheep, though they drive me nuts, are all part of the fun. The tiny poults have over stayed their welcome in the brooder, but will be moved into deluxe accomodations on the morrow.  When we finally got around to dinner we ate beef that we raised, fresh peas and cabbage our family grew. After dinner we didn’t watch TV we worked until the sun went down, Hubby Dearest completing the chicken tractor in all its glory, our toddler helping in a helmet so she “was safe.”

Now as quiet falls on the farm and I say goodnight to Melville I’m exhausted, thankful for my Hubby who works so hard on and off the farm, and naively hopeful that my kid will sleep better tonight before our beautiful chaos begins again with the rising sun.

(Play date on the farm with a few good friends!)

 (Bubbles, the ring leader of sheep related debauchery) 

The rain came down in sheets last night. Wind ripped through the air testing our newly built wood shed.  When we woke up the sun was shining, the birds were singing, our chickens were pooping on my front porch, and I noticed the daffodils emerging from the ground as a reminder that spring is just around the corner. Sweet baby Q however,  was vomitting.
Not only did we find out she has an ear infection and stomach bug, she’s coughing up a lung. She is tough. She is smiling and laughing when I would be throwing myself a pity party in a puddle of my own snot.
This morning I dragged her smiling and puking out on a consultation farm visit that I had to conduct for my day job. Her cute-baby powers (even at half strength) won over the hearts of those farmers, operators and government officials instantly.  She was running the show from her front-pack baby carrier and those men were wrapped around her slobbery fingers.
Rain blew in as the farm visit ended early afternoon so sweet baby Q and I were able to fit in hours of phone tag with doctors, clinics and labs. Many veteran parents most likely know how to tell when their infant needs medical help, but as a new mom I like to call my doc as if we were besties. Too many poop variances, puke characteristics, and freak symptoms for me to confidently navigate without consultation from a medical professional. In most circumstances I like to default to natural remedies, but when my 5 month old is quickly dehydrating, giving herself wry neck with her head cocked because of her ear ache, and choking on her phlegm, I need more than my essential oils (though I love my oils dearly).
I now know that everything stands still when that little girl gets sick. My new farm business, my day job, and the whole world pales in comparison to baby Q.
 Her smiles are free yet they are priceless and I will do absolutely anything to keep my girl smiling.

(Photo: picture taken on farm visit in Lewis and Clark Astoria, OR)