Purple sprouting broccoli is awfully pretty and thoroughly delicious. Our overwintered plants are going crazy right now, producing more than we can eat. You can order sprouting broccoli seeds from Nichols Garden Nursery here.
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Kids are here. They arrived on Monday night actually. I’ve been waiting to write this post for a couple reasons. First off, things have been busy and photographing/writing about kids hasn’t been my first priority. Secondly, there were a few complications that I was hoping to tell you are now all fine and dandy, but the reality is that I’m still not sure how things are going to pan out, but I figured it was time to give you an update.
I was anticipating that Minnie would kid early because last year she delivered four days before her due date. (I always know her exact due date because I record when I take her to meet with the buck. More on goat breeding without a buck at home here.) I was concerned about her kidding while I was gone, but I made it home in time, and then the days came and went with no significant action. On Monday afternoon (the day before her due date), I went out to the barn to check on her, and it seemed like she was acting weird. She was subdued, laying down and sort of staring off into space all glassy eyed. She also had a blob of thick, whitish discharge hanging on her vulva. I decided that it was probably time to lock her up in a stall by herself. This was around 4:30.
I hung out in the barn watching her from 5:30 to 6:30, convinced that labor was imminent, but nothing happened. Eventually I got cold and a little discouraged, so I went inside to make a cup of tea. I remembered from last year, that Minnie was relatively quiet while kidding, so I wanted to be sure to check her often instead of just listening for guttural goat screams. At 7:00 with a mug of tea in hand, I went back out and saw that this time, it was really happening.
She was laying down, and after a few obvious contractions, her water broke. From what I understand, this is normal. Next, I saw a little black nub coming out of her vulva. Kids are generally supposed to present feet first, but the nub I could see was definitely not made of feet. This was concerning to me, but Minnie seemed to be making progress without my assistance, so I made the decision not to intervene.
About 20 minutes later, Minnie pushed the kid out on her own. I grabbed a towel and started to dry it off, but the kid wasn’t moving. When I looked at it, my first thought was that the body had no head. I looked at one end and saw no head. I looked at the other end and saw no head. I freaked out a little. I turned it over, and the head was there, but it wasn’t breathing. I toweled off the nose and mouth to make sure it wasn’t suffocating in goo, and I moved it over next to Minnie, so she could start licking it, but it still didn’t move or breathe. After a couple minutes, I decided it was stillborn, and I took it out of the barn.
**Lesson One: I don’t know if I should have assisted the birth or not. I could have, and it might have made a difference, but according to Fiasco Farm’s kidding positions graphic, a butt-first breech birth (which I think is what I saw) is rare but not necessarily bad. Any birth that takes a long time (over 45 minutes) will probably need human intervention, but this one happened in an appropriate amount of time. The thing that I did learn after talking to my neighbor Lois the next day, is that there are a few tricks for reviving “stillborn” kids (or lambs). If a kid comes out lifeless, first grab it by its hips and give it a couple good hard shakes upside down to clear any fluids out of its lungs. Then get a towel and rub vigorously for up to 10 minutes (way longer than you think it would still have a chance). Sometimes, these actions will stimulate a kid enough to bring it around.
After the first kid came out, Minnie birthed two more, first a little black doeling and then a little brown buckling, without any major trouble. The last one came out around 7:35. These two kids were very much alive, squirming around and kicking immediately. I dried them off, and Minnie got to licking them down. I scooped out birth-goo soiled bedding straw and took it out of the barn, so Minnie wouldn’t eat it.
The girl started trying to stand and walk after 10 or 15 minutes. I dipped her cord in iodine and then helped her up to her mom’s udder. After a frustrating few clumsy minutes, she figured out how to latch on and nurse on Minnie’s teat. I learned the hard way not to wait to get food into a newborn kid. Most kids can eventually get things figured out on their own, but there’s no harm in forcing it early, and then you’ll know for sure that they’re either eating or they’re not.
The boy was slower to get up, and at first I thought it was just because he was a little newer in the world. I picked him up and held him to the teat, and it didn’t take too long before he started sucking even though he couldn’t support himself. Both kids nursed several times with assistance, but after about an hour or so, it became apparent to me that something was wrong with the boy’s legs. He was floppy and splayed out like a frog, but the thing that stood out most to me was the fact that when he did get up, his legs were folded back at the ankle, and he was trying to walk on the tops of his feet instead of the bottoms.
**Lesson Two: A few years ago, I was talking to Julie, the woman we got out original goats from (who still has the buck that we bred to last fall), and she told me a story about how one year, a bunch of her kids came out walking on their wrists. It was diagnosed as white muscle disease. White muscle disease is causes by a selenium or vitamin E deficiency and results in weak leg and back muscles. Our area is known to be selenium deficient, so white muscle disease can be prevented two ways. Some livestock breeders offer their animals free-choice salts with added selenium, and other breeders give selenium injections to pregnant females and/or newborn babies. The selenium booster that everyone I know uses is called Bo-Se (pronounced Bo-see). It’s only available from a veterinarian. A bottle costs about $50, and it expires after about a year. The first year I had goats, I bought Bo-Se but never used it, and I haven’t bought any since.
I was in the barn on Monday night until about 10 pm. Minnie passed one placenta without incident, and I pitched it out of the barn. I knew that the boy wasn’t fully mobile yet, so I set my alarm for midnight and 4 am feeding times. After each alarm, I drug myself out of bed and helped both kids eat before I went inside and crashed again. In the morning, I called my neighbor Lois because I knew she would have a bottle of Bo-Se, and she had some experience with white muscle disease. She graciously offered to give him the shot if I brought him down to her house, so I loaded him into the car, and we drove the two miles to Lois’s. After a quick shot and some chatting about animal birth, I brought him home.
During the first couple feedings, Minnie was being a perfect mom, sniffing, licking, and standing patiently, but by morning, she was noticeably less patient and welcoming. She was still locked up in the stall (maybe 4′ x 6′), but she wouldn’t hold still long enough for the kids to eat, or she’d kick them off when they got too near to her udder. A few times, I held her by the collar and forced her into a corner while the kids nursed, but she’s pretty strong, and I still had to hold up the boy with my other hand, so that method wasn’t working very well.
**Lesson Three: I called my friend Carol and asked her what to do about a new mom who wouldn’t stand to let kids nurse. Rejection or neglect of kids is most common with first-time moms, but Carol reminded me about the powerful contractions that second-time (or third, forth, etc.) moms get post-partum, especially brought on by nursing. I remember those contractions from my own personal birth experiences. They can be pretty uncomfortable, and maybe Minnie was just hurting and trying to avoid triggering more contractions. BUT kids gotta eat, so Carol advised me to put Minnie in the milking stanchion and tie down her legs while letting kids nurse. Hopefully after a session or two, she would snap out of it and let the kids do their thing without interruption.
The stanchion trick worked in so far as the kids got a nice big meal, but Minnie’s behavior when not locked down didn’t improve much.
Since Monday, some things have improved and some haven’t. The boy’s legs have straightened out, and thankfully he seems to be doing just fine. The Bo-Se is supposed to take two days to kick in, and that seemed to be about right in our experience.
I haven’t spent hours and hours in a row in the barn, but I’ve only seen Minnie let the girl nurse briefly one time. Judging by secondary signs such as belly size and peeing/pooping regularity, I think she is letting the girl nurse when I’m not around. Sometimes Minnie will sniff at the boy, but I’ve never seen her let him nurse. In fact, I’ve seen her headbutt him away from her on multiple occasions. On Wednesday, I let them eat on the stanchion four or fivetimes, but yesterday, I decided that hunger might be the best motivator, so I let them eat on the stanchion in the morning but not for the rest of the day. I was hoping they would find a way to access Minnie and her milk on their own. When I went out last night, the boy seemed very empty and very hungry. Again, I put Minnie on the stanchion, and he ate so much that I was almost a little concerned about his balloon belly. The girl ate a little, too, but I don’t think she was as hungry because hopefully she’d been eating throughout the day.
At this point, I’m not totally sure what to do. I let him eat again on the stanchion this morning. He looks healthy, big (bigger than the girl), and robust, but if mom’s not letting him eat, we still have a problem. If Minnie doesn’t have a change of heart and behavior in the next couple days, I guess I’ll either have to bottle feed him or continue the routine of lock-down feeding on the stanchion. Minnie definitely has enough milk, but I don’t really like either of these options because they seriously constrain my own life and schedule.
Under perfect circumstances, I would leave the kids together with Minnie full-time for about a month, and then I’d start separating them at night and milking in the morning. The once-a-day milkings allow me some freedom in the afternoons/evenings, and I would also have the option of not separating kids for a night or two and not milking at all if we would want to go for a quick vacation because the kids would keep her udder empty. Having a bottle baby means milking twice a day, every day on a strict schedule and being home for regular feedings of the kid(s). Bottle babies are supposed to be super friendly, but it’s a big commitment that I don’t think I’d take on voluntarily.
We’ll see how that all goes down.
In the meantime, the kids are adorable and friendly and soft and cuddly. And those EARS! I’ve really missed having full-nubian kids. After much debate and discussion, their names have been decided. Levi found my brother’s old coloring books from the ’80s a while back and now he’s pretty much obsessed with He-Man, so this year we have He-Man names. The boy is Bow, and the girl is Teela. Obscure for sure, but I think they’re pretty good goat names.
Kidding time every year reminds me of my huge appreciation for my network of friends who have decades of experience with animals. I’m lucky enough to have three people willing to help me out with my goat questions/troubles. Lois Olund is the closest. She’s raised sheep (most recently Wendsleydales) for over two decades, and she’s seen a lot. She also has a lot of supplies on hand, and when four years ago, I was in total crisis mode, she dropped everything and came over to teach me how to tube feed a kid. She’s fantastic, and all you knitters and spinners should buy some fiber from her business Bellwether Wool Company.
My friend Carol Hemphill is a little farther away (4ish miles), but when I was pregnant myself, I used to joke that if I went into labor couldn’t make it to the hospital in time, I’ll call 911, and then I’d call Carol because she’s seen more birth than anyone I know. She’s also patient and calm and willing to answer all my newbie dumb questions without being judgmental. She’s a cow person with plenty of experience around sheep, but even though she doesn’t know goats specifically, she aways has good advice for me. I’ve written about Carol a few times on Wayward Spark here, here, and here.
The person I try not to bother too often but who’s always been willing to talk goats is Julie Weiss. Julie’s daughter was in 4-H for years, and that’s how she got into the goat business. She’s had a herd of mostly nubians for over 10 years and has seen her fair share of successes and troubles. I always enjoy chatting with Julie (especially if I’m not in crisis mode) about goat-centric topics, and she’s also come through for me with critical advice a couple times when I was really in a pinch.
I also really appreciate having the OSU Veterinary Hospital close by for the times that I really need professional help (just once in nearly seven years of goat ownership).
My point is….the internet is awesome, but I’ve found that when it comes to animal husbandry, it really helps to have real people in your corner. If you’re new to raising livestock or you’re thinking about getting into it, find some mentors. They will prove invaluable when the time comes that you really need them. If you don’t known anyone personally, try your local 4-H club, a breeder, or see if the closest large-animal vet has any recommendations. OSU offeres “lambing school” every spring, which I really think I should go to some year. (Sorry, but I can’t seem to find much info on lambing school online. Maybe you can Google better than I can.) Even other newbies can be helpful when trying to work out minor issues.
That said, I’ve had a few emails in the past two years of writing this blog where folks have basically asked ME to be in their goat network. I don’t want to be a jerk, but I just really don’t feel like an expert, and our place is not particularly well set up to receive (stranger) visitors. I’m definitely not qualified to diagnose specific conditions of your goats in crisis (something that I’ve been asked to do on several occasions). I hope that by writing posts like these, I am able to share what I know and what I’ve learned, but beyond that, I don’t have a lot more to offer.
So for now, I’m just watching, waiting, learning, and helping as needed. Everything’s a lot easier when dealing with what are quite possibly the cutest baby animals on the face of the earth. I hope your spring kidding/lambing/calving has been smooth sailing, or at least it’s been a pleasant learning experience.
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The weather this past weekend was pretty incredible. Western Oregon always gets a few early spring days that feel more like summer when every last sun-starved person makes an effort to get outside to bask in the glory. Saturday and Sunday were perfect and very much appreciated.
I haven’t left the homestead since we got back from California on Thursday night. I’m waiting on Ms. Minnie to have her kids, but so far, nothing’s happening. Her official due date is tomorrow, and even though she kidded four days early last year, it looks like she’s holding out ’til the bitter end this time around. I’d love to see those kids, but really I don’t mind being at home catching up for a few days, especially after the craziness of Southern California.
It seems like every year around this time, this feeling sets in where I just want to stay home all day every day. There’s so much going on here in the spring, and I get energized and motivated by the extra daylight hours and nicer weather. I weeded all the thistles out of the greenhouse yesterday, and then I baked a pie because we hadn’t had one in a good long while. (Frozen blueberries + past-prime storage apples. It wasn’t my best effort, but we are enjoying it anyway). We’ve been taking walks down to the pond and collecting lots of chicken eggs.
The overwintered kale is going crazy. I picked this bridal bouquet of kale raab this morning and then ate the whole bunch sauteed with two leeks, some brown rice, and parmesan cheese. That might not have been my smartest move today, but it sure tasted good.
In the time we were gone, the grass and the red flowering currants went crazy. The currants are in full bloom now, and the hummingbirds are out in full force guzzling nectar.
And the rhubarb is up! It’s only about 6-8 inches tall, but it grows pretty darn fast this time of year, so it won’t be long before we’ll have more than we can eat ourselves.
From the looks of my Instagram feed, it seems like most of the country has been experiencing more spring-like and less winter-like weather. I hope you’ve been enjoying it as much as we have!
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We got home last night from six days in La Quinta, California, and I can honestly say I’m really glad to be home. It was beautiful, for sure, and hot, which was a welcome change from Oregon’s drizzly spring. It was also very very strange culture-wise, at least it was for me.
The kids and I went with my parents, brother, sister in law, and one-year-old niece. It was my mom’s idea. Originally, she was thinking we’d stay near Joshua Tree National Park and do a lot of hiking, but after searching online for rental houses, it seemed easier to stay closer to Palm Springs in a place with a pool, so the kids would have more activity options. In the end, it was quite a bit different than the pristine desert experience I was expecting/hoping for, but everyone still had a pretty great time.
The first morning we were there (to make a long story short), my mom and I ended up taking Levi to urgent care because he had this gnarly rash all over his body. Four hours later, they told us that it was probably a reaction to some medication that he had taken and wasn’t too serious, but he shouldn’t be exposed to the sun or swim in a chlorinated pool. Considering the fact that we had flown all the way to Southern California pretty much only for the sun and the pool, this doctor’s recommendation was pretty disappointing.
We managed, though. For three days, Levi ran around outside in the mornings and the evenings when the shadows were long. He played in the shade at Palm Canyon in Palm Springs with Charlotte and my dad while the rest of us hiked around. (Palm Canyon was beautiful but would have been more pleasant if we’d arrived earlier in the morning. That desert sun is pretty brutal on Oregon-winter skin.) We toured The Living Desert (which is pretty much a zoo), and we did some shopping at the mall. The rest of the family did a short hike in Joshua Tree while we were at immediate care, but we never made it to Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, which is supposed to be pretty cool. After three days, Levi’s rash was gone, so he did get to do some swimming in the end.
I feel like ever since I started reading Lily Stockman’s beautiful blog with it’s regular pinings for her former home in Joshua Tree, I’d been noticing more and more references to the desert landscape of Southern California. I don’t know that I’d go so far as to say that I’m a desert person, but I’m certainly a desert appreciator. I spent six weeks taking a geology field course in Central Oregon near the John Day National Monument, and I fell in love with the terrain. I don’t know if it’s the geology nerd in me or what, but I’m okay with a near-total lack of greenery.
The “terrain” in La Quinta and surrounding towns, however, is…um…not really desert-y at all. It’s all palm trees, golf courses, green grass, and intensively landscaped parkways. And fountains EVERYWHERE. You might say it was Eden-esque, but I just couldn’t get over how weird it was. How much time and energy and money and water does it take to make the desert “bloom” in such a way? And for what purpose? I mean, it’s not even like they’re growing food in the area.
Maybe I’m just a pessimist or a jerk about the whole thing. I did enjoy the sun. I did buy a pair of pants at the mall. I did savor a grapefruit that my mom picked from the highway median. But I couldn’t overlook the overuse of resources, and to me, the landscape (lush subdivisions up against vast expanses of rocks, sand, and sparse shrubs) seemed like a physical manifestation of the culture of consumption.
I don’t mean to sound all high and mighty about the whole business. I guess I was just pretty culture shocked much of the time because of some of the smaller things. Because we flew in, we had to buy ALL of our food at a regular grocery store. That is a completely foreign concept for me and for my parents as well. Also, driving by miles and miles of big box stores, chain restaurants, and strip malls is super weird. I’ve often felt deprived at home because it’s such a big effort to get somewhere where I can buy new clothes, but I think living in a place where it’s SO easy to spend money and buy stuff would be dangerous for me (or maybe anyone). Maybe if you’re around it all the time, you get immune, but when I was walking around in a Target, I kept getting sidetracked from my main mission, thinking ‘Maybe I need that?’ or ‘This is cute.’ I can see how, armed with a credit card, one could get into a habit of spending an enormous amount of money on frivolous stuff and fast food.
Anyway, before I get too carried away with my rant, I’ll give you a few photos. We stayed in the gated community of Legacy Villas. (Most of the vacation rentals in the area are in gated communities.) There was a pool on practically every block, and the fountains flowed freely. The landscaping was immaculate, and the building designs inspired relaxation. The whole place was backed up against stark, rocky hills without a stitch of vegetation. I’d wake up every morning, throw on a pair of shorts, and wander around, taking in the sights. I felt a little out of place, but it was pleasant, for sure.
There were a couple highlights of the trip for me. First off, I read almost an entire issue of The New Yorker, a publication that I love and appreciate so much. My brother has a subscription and has offered to pass along all his old issues to me, but sadly, I just don’t read very much any more and can’t keep up with the growing piles of magazines. I found the recent article about sinkholes and some of the human activities that are affecting the geology of Florida particularly interesting and particularly appropriate for my stay in Southern California, an area where water issues are big business.
The other big perk about my time away is that I finally got my sleeping schedule on track. For some reason, the switch to Daylight Saving’s Time really threw me for a loop, and even though I was retiring earlier, I’d still have to drag myself out of bed in the mornings. I slept pretty great on our trip and got into a habit of waking up before 7:00 again. This morning, my first back at home, I was up at 6:00, and I felt like I had the whole day ahead of me. I go through phases of waking up early and then after a few weeks or months, I start staying up late again. I’m hoping to keep this early-rising habit going for a while now.
Also, there was the bougainvillea. Boy, do I love bougainvillea. They may be sucking that aquifer dry to irrigate it, but it sure was pretty.
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Well, it’s almost time. Ms. Minnie is rather large, and it’s time to get ready for the big event. Her official due date is April 2, but last year, she kidded four days early, so I’m hoping to be prepared ahead of time. To confuse things, my mom got this harebrained idea to take the whole family to La Quinta, California (near Palm Springs/Joshua Tree National Park) for spring break, so the kids and I are going to be leaving on Saturday, and we won’t get back until April 28. Henry (who is due to return tonight from a second week in Northern California working bees on almond pollination) will stay home and hold down the fort. He’s pretty capable in the goat barn, arguably more so than me, but it makes me nervous to be leaving my girl behind when she’s just about to pop.
Kidding preparation will be much like last year. I need to clean out the barn and gather my birthing supplies (mostly just old towels with a few specialized tools that I hopefully won’t have to use). I’m going to instruct Henry to lock her in a stall (where she can still see and smell the other goats) at night, so that if she does go into labor, he’ll have easy access to her. I’m hoping that she hold out until at least March 29th, but anything is possible at this point.
Also while we’re gone, Admiral Ackbar, one of last year’s kids, will be leaving this world and ending up in the freezer. He’s not nearly as obnoxious as the wether we dispatched last year, but with new goats on the way, we need to make room in the barn and in the smaller-than-I-would-prefer goat yard. Honestly, I haven’t gotten too attached to him in the last year, so it shouldn’t be too emotionally trying when the time comes (although it won’t be TOO easy either).
I’m not sure if I’ll get to blogging while in the desert, but you can rest assured that I’ll share the news of the kids’ arrival at the earliest possible opportunity. Actually, I’ll probably share the very first photos on Instagram (my current favorite social medium), so be sure to follow me @waywardspark if you are so inclined.
Oh, and the roving chickens? Well, I’m not really sure what to say about them. They’re the fliers that can break out of the chicken pen, and every morning they congregate under the stanchion to peck up spilled goat grain. Waste not, want not, I guess.
a technical note about new post email notifications: I recently switched services for sending out email notifications of new blog posts. Many folks were not receiving notifications under the old system because my server was flagging emails as spam, so something had to change. The new notifications will look a little different, and they will only come in the mornings as opposed to moments after I publish a post. Also, I want to apologize profusely to those of you who received an extra notification the other day. I hate spam as much as the next guy, so I’m so sorry that I bothered you. If you haven’t already signed up to receive email notifications, you can do so now by adding your info to the field in the sidebar.{ 7 comments }
Sometimes I fantasize about what it would be like to live in a walking society, whether that be a modern-day city or an olden-day rural community. I love walking so much, and I always wish I had more utilitarian reasons to travel on foot aside from the exercise and fresh air.
Something I don’t love? Running. Though I have run more and less consistently at different times in my life (not recently), I really can’t get into it. I can appreciate the act of running for its healthful benefits, but I have never experienced its alleged mind-clearing, euphoria-inducing qualities. And don’t even let me get started talking about my short legs and long torso. Let’s just say, I wasn’t built to run.
In years past, winter has been a pretty dark time for me. It’s been fine to curl up with a cup of tea and a book for a few days in October or November, but attempting to hibernate for three months didn’t work that well and didn’t make me feel good (about myself). Last winter after lazing around the entire month of January and then overindulging on sweets in early February, I finally got to the point where I knew I had to make some sort of positive change, so I started jumping rope for 20 minutes a day, five or six days a week. Jump roping may seem like a weird hobby to get into as an adult, but it’s kind of awesome. It requires $5 of equipment, 5 minutes of prep time, and a bit more than 5 square feet of floor space. Even in my tiny house, there’s just enough space in the bedroom to swing my jumprope freely, so I can get in some exercise no matter the weather. Last winter, I jumped rope consistently for about six weeks until a few more daylight hours returned, and I was able to get out and about in the sunshine more often.
This year as soon as we evicted the Christmas tree, I started my jumping routine again, but I also added a bunch of sit ups and mixed in some jumping jacks. I am still not an athlete, but getting even a small amount of intense aerobic exercise most days of the week makes the winter a little more bearable.
My favorite aerobic activity? That title probably goes to splitting firewood.
After college when I was totally burned out on academia, I got a job working for a guy who sold firewood (among other things) to local clients. For most of a year, he would buck (cut logs into sections with a chainsaw), and I would split the pieces with a maul (a 6-pound maul for maple, 8-pound maul for oak). I think we figured that we cut and split over 40 cords of wood that season, and needless to say, I got pretty good at it.
In the years since, I haven’t done quite so much splitting. In fact, I haven’t done much at all because I happen to be married to a guy who also enjoys splitting firewood. I’m in charge of moving firewood from our makeshift woodshed (really just a fence-like structure with heavy plastic over it) onto the front porch during the winter, but that’s not nearly as satisfying as hefting a maul.
Late last summer, wood pulp prices went so low that a friend in the timber industry was practically giving away scruffy oak and maple logs. We ended up getting a couple big truckloads at our house. Henry cut and split some before the weather turned in the fall, but most of it has been sitting around until recently. One particularly beautiful day last week, I found myself at home with no kids underfoot and a relatively short and therefore ignorable to-do list of household chores. I knew exactly how I wanted to spend an hour of my free time, so I grabbed my maul and headed down to tackle the piles of wood rounds. I was out of shape, for sure, but even if I had to swing at some of those gnarly oak pieces 30 or more times before they finally gave way, I felt like I was being more productive than if I had stayed in the house to jump rope. And you know what they say is totally true: firewood warms you twice.
As you can see from the photos, there are a lot more logs to buck, and there will be many more rounds to split. I look forward to the challenge.
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I met my friend Ana about a year ago. I had recently started my contract work as writer/photographer/blogger for Gathering Together Farm, and Ana was working as the pastry chef in the GTF restaurant. I liked her from the get-go, and even though, like many folks, I’ve found it harder and harder to connect with new friends as I’ve gotten older, it was not hard at all to connect with Ana. She’s fun and funny and level-headed (mostly) and likes to complain about all the same things that I like to complain about. She’s also a pastry wizard. If she doesn’t already know how to make or bake something, she’ll delve into culinary research with the intensity of a serious academic.
I had high hopes that Ana and I would work on many a blog collaboration. She could develop recipes and coach me on techniques. I could take the photos and write up the recipes. We did this last fall when Ana passed along her love of quince, and together we baked a quince and meyer lemon meringue pie in my barbecue. (I’ve also shared her chocolate Guinness cake recipe.) In November, Ana went off on a six-week European vacation with plans to eat her way across four or five countries as well as visit family, and I awaited her return, wishing we could get back to our regular barbecue baking and gossiping sessions.
Ana did return…but she had some big news. She had met a man and was moving to Ireland. My first reaction was “NOOOOOOOO…” (I literally texted that to her.), but after hearing the whole crazy story, actually meeting the guy, and reflecting on my own selfish motives for wanting her to stay, I had to change my tune. While I still think she’s sort of nuts, I really admire her open mindedness, faith in spite of everyone’s objections, and courage to pick up and move to a mostly unknown place. I will really really miss her, BUT she’s here for few more weeks, and after that, I hope to keep in touch with the help of the internet. And, hey, maybe this would be a good excuse to visit Ireland?
Anyway, I’m hoping we can squeeze in a few more baking projects soon, and any locals can enjoy her fresh pastries at the Gathering Together Farm restaurant for a while longer, too.
About bagels…
I saw these bagels pop up on Ana’s Instagram feed, and they seemed like the perfect challenge. I’d actually made bagels before on my own, but they were doughy and disappointing. I wanted hearty and chewy and joy-inducing, and that’s exactly what I got when Ana came over and baked these at my house. It seems like a backhanded compliment to say that these bagels taste like store-bought bagels, but I mean that in a good way. Also, the fact that there’s only one slow rise before poaching and baking makes them pretty easy as far a bagel recipes go.
Notes:
Ana picked up a basic version of this recipe when she was in pastry school. The measurements presented here are in grams, so you’ll need a scale with metric units. (I’m usually a measuring cup girl, myself, but I’m also aware that the “right” way to measure ingredients while baking is to use a scale, so I finally sucked it up and bought a relatively inexpensive but totally functional battery-powered kitchen scale.)
This is a very basic recipe that invites the baker to creatively add flavors. Feel free to throw in up to a cup of tasty extras such as cranberries, sun-dried tomatoes, herbs, grated cheese, chocolate chips, whole grains, or any of the usual (or unusual) bagel flavors. If you’re going to add grains or other ingredients that will potentially soak up a lot of moisture, you’ll need to add a bit more water. You can double this recipe, but personally, I prefer to make two single batches, each with its own flavor ingredients.
You’ll need to mix the dough and form the bagels the day before you want to bake them, so plan accordingly. I didn’t have enough room in my fridge for two baking sheets, so I left my pans outside overnight. This is probably fine if it’s not too warm out, and you can keep critters away from your dough.
When you’re forming the bagels, make the holes significantly bigger than you think they should be in the end. The dough is quite elastic and will spring back as well as swell up, so if the hole is too small, you will end up with rolls that have bellybuttons. (I would know. It happened to me.)
After the long rise, try to handle the dough as little as possible because it will easily stretch and then deflate. (I didn’t follow this advice on my first try at this recipe, and I learned my lesson.) Ana taught me the trick of giving each formed bagel its own square of parchment paper because it’s much easier to peel the paper off the bagel (especially when it’s in the poaching liquid) than to peel the bagel off the paper.
To bake these in my propane barbecue, I preheat the grill with four fire bricks and my Lodge cast iron baking pan (an item I consider pretty much essential for barbecue baking) on top. When my bagels are ready, I balance a thin cookie sheet with the bagels on top of the cast iron handles of the baking pan and then pour water under the cookie sheet onto the extremely hot cast iron baking pan to create a rush of steam.
Classic Bagels
recipe from Ana Patty
yield: 9 bagels
185 grams whole wheat flour 370 grams bread flour 11 grams salt 6 grams active dry yeast 20 grams sugar 316 grams warm water 11 grams honey up to a cup of flavoring ingredients parchment paper 2 tablespoons honey 2 teaspoons saltPreheat a propane barbecue and all insulating/steam creation equipment on medium high.
Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl and mix well. Add the water and honey as well as any flavoring ingredients. Stir to combine and then turn out the dough on a lightly floured work surface. Knead the dough for about 10 minutes, adding pinches of flour when necessary until the dough is smooth, elastic, and no longer sticky.
Divide the dough into 9 equal portions. Shape each portion into a ball. Poke your finger through the center of each ball and gently stretch and spin the dough until the hole is fairly large. Cut out 9 approximately 5″-inch square pieces of parchment paper, and place each bagel on its own parchment square on a baking sheet. Refrigerate for 12-24 hours.
Bring approximately four quarts of water to a low boil in a large pot. Add the 2 tablespoons of honey and 2 teaspoons salt to the water. One at a time, place each bagel parchment-paper-side-up into the water, and then gently peel the paper off the dough, trying not to stretch or disturb the shape. Poach the bagels one at a time for 30 seconds on each side. Do not over poach them. If the holes appear to be closing up, insert the end of a wooden spoon in the center of the bagel and gently spin the dough around the spoon. Remove from the poaching liquid with a slotted spoon and allow to drain on a wire rack until dry to the touch, about 10 minutes. Do not let them sit in pooled liquid. Gently place the bagels on a parchment-lined baking sheet.
Place the baking sheet in the barbecue atop the preheated insulation equipment (see notes). Pour water on preheated cast iron implements to create steam and quickly close the lid of the barbecue. Open the barbecue after 8 minutes, letting out any remaining steam, and check to see if the bagels are cooking evenly. If the bagels around the edge of the baking sheet are browning more quickly, rotate them to the center. Bake another 15-20 minutes until the bagels are golden brown.*
*Alternately, you can preheat an oven to 400°, and bake the bagels there. You’ll still need to create sort of steam creation device like throwing in ice cubes when you start baking the bagels.
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As things warm up around here, Henry’s been starting to schedule 2013 honeybee extractions. (I’m using the term “honeybee extraction” in this post to mean the act of removing unwanted honeybees that are living on their own in people’s barns, garages, rotten trees, etc.) The next month and a half or so is the best time of year (as opposed to summer) for doing extractions for several reasons: colonies are smaller with fewer bees and less brood to have to worry about rehiving, the bees will have longer to recover and establish strong hives over the summer, less nectar in the hives means the process will be less messy and fewer bees will be drenched and mashed in the process, and newly boxed colonies are less likely to get their honey stores robbed by other bees this early in the season. Spring bee removals are more convenient and cheaper for homeowners as well because Henry can usually get the job done in one or two sessions (as opposed to multiple sessions in the summer), which keeps his costs down and therefore keeps his fees down, too.
Through word of mouth, Henry heard about an old barn in the Blodgett area that had at least one colony of bees living in the wall. He approached the landowner (Mike from Willamette Saw Service) and asked if he wanted the bees gone. Mike agreed, so Henry made a quick visit to the site last week to scope it out.
Scheduling bee removals can be a little difficult because they must be done on relatively warm, not-rainy days. If it’s too cold or wet, the queen and/or the brood can be chilled, and the whole thing will fail. This time of year, nice days can be hard to predict in advance. Henry had some time off on Sunday, and even though it wasn’t quite as warm as he’d hoped, he headed out to the barn to do the extraction.
Generally speaking, barns are easier to extract bees from than people’s homes because the construction is simpler, and the owners are usually less concerned about the damage to the structure that’s necessary to gain access to a colony. Henry always tries to be respectful of people’s property, but he makes sure to let folks know that things might get torn up a bit. In some cases, he’ll bring along a contractor friend who can repair damage and ensure that bees can’t get back in in the future.
The bees were going in and out of the wall through a gap in the siding, so Henry began by removing several battens. Bees get agitated by loud, percussive noises, so demolition should be carried out with as little banging around as possible. Often, a pry bar is an appropriate tool for the job.
Even before opening up the wall, it was apparent that this barn had been home to multiple colonies of bees in the past, and that wasn’t surprising. A barn with plenty of easy-access cracks and knotholes that’s also out in the middle of a field within a few miles of several commercial bee yards is a pretty inviting place for a swarm to move into. It looked as though someone had tried to evict a colony of bees from a wallspace around the corner, but those bees either died off after the disturbance or just found a different space in the same structure to live in. When Henry got things opened up, he found a lot of unoccupied comb from past bee colonies.
The current colony of honeybees was living between the studs in one section of barn wall. They probably moved in as a swarm last summer and built up all the sheets of comb that you see above before the weather cooled down and nectar sources waned in the fall. (You can read a little more about comb in this post.)
After gaining good access, Henry began by cutting out sheets of mostly empty (except for a few cells of new pollen) comb. These sheets of comb are not reusable for beekeeping purposes, but he took them home to be melted with the rest of comb we have laying around.
The browner cells above are packed with fresh pollen. There’s plenty of pollen available this time of year (from hazelbrush, white alder, willow, etc.), so throwing out some of their pollen stores is not a huge loss.
He then started cutting and pulling out frames of valuable brood that he loaded into cut-out frames. (More description of cut-out frames in this post.) At this point, he was trying to locate the queen (hence the queen catcher clip on his hat).
He found the queen on a sheet of brood comb, isolated her in a queen catcher, and then moved the queen catcher into the new hive box. Having her in the queen catcher while he’s still cutting comb and working bees allows him to keep tabs on her and ensures that she doesn’t accidentally get damaged in the fray.
He continued filling cut-out frames with brood comb and adding them to the hive box as well as shaking masses of bees off sheets of comb onto the hive box, the brood frames, and the queen.
Above is what some folks call “bee bread”. It’s actually pollen and nectar that got mixed up last summer and was allowed to lacto-ferment (kinda like sauerkraut). The bees then covered the mixture with honey to seal it up. The white cells have spoiled and gone moldy, but the brown ones are full of this probiotic substance and will be eaten when pollen sources are scarce.
This colony had a considerable amount of stored honey, so after the queen was secured in the box, Henry cut out sheet after sheet of full honeycomb.
Comb honey removed from naturally built colonies is heavy, floppy, and doesn’t usually fit in standard-size frames, so it can’t be easily transfered into a hive box. It’s usually best to either eat it or leave it out for the bees to clean up. Sometimes honeycomb extracted out of old barns is full of insulation, mouse poop, and generally unpalatable dead bee bits, but in this case, the stored honey was fairly clean even though some of it was crystallized.
Henry set the hive box up on a large plastic drum and placed it as close as possible to the old entrance. The bees from the colony that were not yet inside the box will visually orient to the general area of the hive, but when they come near, they will smell the queen’s pheromones and reroute their flight path toward the box and away from the wall.
Last summer, Henry set aside a couple hundred frames of capped honey (that would have been easy to take and eat ourselves) so that he’d be able to fortify newly-hived colonies and replace the honey removed during extractions. He added four such frames to this hive box.
Once the box was set up, Henry started heavily smoking the bees that remained on the wall and in the old hive space, driving them into the air so that they will hopefully reorient to the queen’s new residence with the brood.
He lidded the box and then stuffed chunks of comb into the entrance slot above the landing board. This forced the bees to enter and exit through the small hole in the front, but more importantly, it concentrates the stream of pheromone-laden air being emitted from the hive so that it attracts errant bees more efficiently.
Because these bees aren’t really bothering anyone where they’re at and because the area has a lot to offer resource-wise, Henry will probably leave the box where it is for another month or so.
Henry, who wasn’t wearing a veil, gloves, or any other protective clothing, got stung a grand total of two times during this whole affair. I didn’t get stung at all even though there were a lot of bees in the air and occasionally on my hair/clothes/camera, but I was most proud of myself for not freaking out when a bee landed on my bare ear and started crawling around.
Henry gave the homeowners a couple full sheets of honeycomb, but there was a lot more.
He divvied up the rest to give away to friends and folks that allow Henry use their property as summer bee yards for breeding and foraging. Someday, we may have enough to sell comb honey, but we’re not there yet.
If you live in Benton, Polk, or Lincoln counties (in Oregon) and have unwanted honeybees living on your property that you want removed, please email Henry at oldblueseedco@gmail.com. Bee removals performed in the early spring are much easier for all involved parties than removals performed during the summer, so contacting him sooner rather than later is preferred. Henry does estimates for free, but you may be charged a service fee for a removal because even though Henry gets the bees for “free”, there are significant costs involved in the job (fuel, special equipment and materials, labor, etc.).
Also, swarm season begins in April, and Henry catches swarms for free as well. He does NOT, however, do any jobs involving yellow jackets, wasps, or hornets.
You can see and read about of a few more of Henry’s bee removal jobs here:
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This week has been so full. Full of doing taxes and thinking about money. (Do I make enough? Do I want to make more? Can I make more?) Full of barbecue baking successes and failures. (Good muffins, bad bagels.) Full of running around doing errands I’ve put off for way too long (My driver’s license expired a month ago, and I just got it renewed yesterday). Full of shopping around for a preschool for Charlotte next year. (I think we’ve found one.) Full of the unpleasantness of my first migraine in eight months. Full of goat chores and washing dozens and dozens of poopy chicken eggs. Full of Grange duties. (We’re ripping out the awful carpet in the Marys River Grange this weekend, and I’ve been the one organizing the effort.) Full of belt sanding. (New items coming to my Etsy shop soon.) Full of emails. Full of herbal tea. Full of blue oatmeal everyday.
But most wonderful of all…This week has been full of spring! I apologize if you’re living in one of the recently blizzarded areas of this country (or some other country), but here in the Pacific Northwest, we’ve definitely turned a corner, and spring is here to stay (even if it snows a little in the coming weeks). Flower buds are really starting to swell and pop, and it’s light outside until way after 6:00. This makes me so incredibly happy and hopeful and excited about what’s to come. Ahhh…
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Honeybee’s comb is about the coolest stuff ever. It’s beautiful, functional, symmetrical, and it smells good to boot. Comb is also a wonderfully multipurpose substance. It provides structure for a hive, the right nooks and conditions for rearing brood, and storage space for pollen and of course, honey.
Bees have four pairs of glands on their abdomen that secrete wax flakes that young bees pick off, chew up, and mold into comb. The color of new comb depends on current nectar sources, the race of honeybees in the hive, how much/what type of pollen they’re collecting, and other factors, but new comb is typically white, though in some cases, bees can make bright yellow comb. As the same comb is used over and over, it will darken in color.
Bees draw comb cells in two different sizes to fit incubating worker brood and larger drone brood. The circumstances within the hive at any given time will dictate what structures the bees themselves feel like they need, and they will build accordingly. Often times, the decisions that the worker bees make are in conflict with what a beekeeper thinks is best for the hive. Managed hives must be observed often so that beekeepers can make physical adjustments that will encourage bees to behave in line with the beekeeper’s management plan.
The same worker brood cells can be used to rear a new batch of bees roughly once a month (generally only in the warmer months here in Western Oregon), and in many cases, the same comb will be used for many years. After each batch of new bees hatches, clean-up workers will come in, (ideally) pitching any unhatched larvae and polishing each cell with a thin layer of propolis to prepare it for the next round of eggs or honey stores.
Bees must have a current nectar source in order to draw new comb. Rarely, they will tear down old comb and reconfigure it for their most pressing needs.
Currently, we have a pretty huge stash of comb stored in buckets around the homestead. Most of the irregular chunks have come from extractions Henry performed last year. Henry also cut out large strips of primarily drone comb when he needed to remove bottom spacers from a few hives in an effort to create uniform boxes to take to almond pollination in California. There’s a bit of honey residue and pollen left clinging to some of the wax in the discard pile, so the buckets of comb still draw a crowd of bees snooping around looking for a bit of something to eat.
The plan is to build a solar wax melter eventually, so we can distill all this comb down to solid blocks of wax, and then we will…do SOMETHING with it (not quite sure what yet).
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