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My publisher decapitated me!

Tue, 24 Apr 2012 21:18:59 -0700

One thing I learned through working with my publisher on City Goats is that writers have lots of say over what goes in between the covers of their book, but the publisher gets to pick the front and back cover. The writer can give their opinion on the cover, but the publisher has the final say. This is because publishers know the truth and that truth is this -- you CAN sell a book by its cover.

After a bit of back and forth, the publisher picked the cover shown here. I was pleased with it since I think it communicates a sense of warmth and affection between Eloise and me. In my excitement, I e-mailed the cover to several friends, my mother, and my sister.

What did people say? Did they say nice reassuring and positive things. No. They all said things like, “Hey, they cut off your head.” or “Why did they cut off your head? or “Are they really going to print it like that, without your head?” I even heard, “But, you aren’t that funny looking. They should put in your head.”

This made me begin to feel pretty discouraged and down about the head lopping. Happily, when I was at a low point, in came my sister’s comment. She piped up with, “Oh good, they didn’t include your head. It is very graphically fashionable to have your head cut off. All the best authors do it.”

I wrote her back something like, “Very funny. You have quite the wit.” and was surprised to hear back right away that she was NOT joking. I would not have believed her, but she provided proof. Here’s a copy of her note.

“Dear Jennie,
I wasn't kidding though. There are more headless bodies on the best seller list right now than there were in Paris in 1793. Best, Kate”

So, for those of you even thinking of ribbing me about my headless body on the cover of my new, first, and only book, get with it!!

The Origin of the Easter Egg Hunt Discovered incomplete

Sat, 14 Apr 2012 13:37:27 -0700

With Easter rolling around again my thoughts turned to the Easter Egg Hunt. I belong to no religious denominations, but I do enjoy celebrating Easter with an Easter Egg Hunt. How did such a strange tradition begin. I was recently chatting with a Jewish friend of mine and when I asked her her opinion, she said, “The egg is a symbol of rebirth.”

This is very true, but what’s with a bunny hiding, children searching for them, and spending all that time coloring them? I think I may have discovered the answer.

A few years back, when I’d just gotten goats and relocated my chickens to the goat yard, my hens mysteriously stopped laying eggs or so I thought. At first I thought I was feeding them the wrong type of food, so I switched feed. Then, I thought maybe they had worms and I dewormed them. Perhaps it was lice or mites, but none were in site. Perhaps they were too old.

I was getting very frustrated. I had five hens and no eggs and everyone else I knew who had chickens, were getting lots of eggs.

Then one afternoon while I was working in my upper garden and my six year old son was wrangling chickens for fun in the goat yard, I heard him yell to me, “Mom, I found a nest.”

What?? I could not figure out what he meant, but he kept saying, I found a chicken nest. Turned out in looking for a specific hen, he’d gotten down on the ground and peered under the goat shed which cleared the ground by around 6 inches in one spot (less in others) and found the hen he was looking for. And what was she doing under there. She was laying an egg. Between the two of us, we were able to dig a slightly bigger opening and we reached in and pulled out 36 eggs. The hens had been hiding them.

Things began to then come together in my mind. Farmers from the old days probably allowed their hens to roam about a large chicken yard and from time to time were probably outsmarted by hens. Some creative parent may have one day said, “How bout we play a game and you find eggs for me.” Or maybe, hunting for eggs in the spring when egg production peaks, was a job that morphed into a game over the years.

Why do we decorate eggs for this hunt? That’s still unclear to me, but they are a fun medium to decorate (Lithuanians have turned egg decorating into a real art form). It may also be that eggs used to be interesting colors - with the blues of Auracaunas, the greens of the Easter Eggers, and the dark brown of the Marans.

Eloise is MAD!!

Tue, 3 Apr 2012 12:05:32 -0700

Uh oh. Miss Eloise, Snowflake’s daughter and the apple of her eye, has a problem -- namely two little brothers and a little sisters. These newcomers are getting everyone’s attention and affection. This has Eloise truly steamed and if those kids get in her way, all diplomatic solutions are tossed aside and WOMP -- she does her best to smack them around. Fortunately, they have a small dog crate (also, a nice area under the milking stand) to hide inside for when she’s feeling firey.

I have mentioned to visitors what a rotten older sister Eloise is and everyone says, something to the effect of, “Well, that’s an older sister for you.” I also discussed the matter with a six year old named Gracie. I asked, “Would your sister treat you that way?” And she did not hesitate for one nanosecond. She said, “ALL THE TIME!”

Snowflake has Triplets!

Wed, 28 Mar 2012 20:32:20 -0700

Snowflake had kids yesterday morning at 4:30 am! I could tell that Snowflake was getting close. It was day 148 and she was pawing. So, I set up the baby monitor and I also set my alarm for 1:45 am just to make sure I got up. This time, I was there for the birth and I may actually have been some help. The second kid came out backwards, so I gave a slow steady tug and out he came! I was surprised when kid number three arrived (in the dark he looked like a placenta). Triplets aren’t uncommon with goats, but my goats have always had twins and this little goat just sort of slid out. I didn’t even notice Snowflake push.

On the kids first day, all three stayed in the goat shed and just napped and nursed. Today, they ventured out. One even climbed the ramp to the top of the hay box.

Today, their second day, I had a real scare. I went into the goat shed and there were only two kids. I looked around the yard, and no third kid. I looked in the shed again. Sometimes they can pile up so you can’t see the third goatlet on the bottom of the pile, but no luck. I started looking harder and when I opened the gate under the stair where the chickens have a protected nesting box, there was Seth -- curled up and napping happily. Phew. This made me realize that the kids need a safe sort of nest. Their older sister, Eloise is not very nice to them, especially if she sees them getting a lot of attention. I’ve put the milking stand in the shed temporarily. They can find a bit of protection resting under it.

Snowflake Looks Fantabulous - Chickens Get Hypnotized

Fri, 9 Sep 2011 13:24:55 -0700

After this spring when Snowflake and Maple suffered various medical problems, my vet recommended that I switch what I was feeding them. They now get Purina Mills goat chow when being milked. I’ve also switched from orchard grass to alfalfa hay. They also get lots of blackberry leaves, which simply weren’t available during the winter. Snowflake’s coat is positively glistening. If only Bosco could see her now.

Could Snowflake’s blossoming great health also be due to the very healthy and happy relationship she now has with her living companion and daughter? She HATED poor Maple, and she was never that fond of Brownie. Eloise and Snowflake nap together on the landing at the top of the goat yard stairs, and Eloise always drapes her neck over Snowflakes. It is a lovely sight. It IS domestic bliss.

Despite domestic bliss, Snowflake is still very bossy. While Don was helping me with a bale of alfalfa Snowflake started butting him in the bottom each time he turned around. When he told her to knock it off, she reared up like you see horses do in the movies. She got a time out and had to go into the goat shed for a while. Don accused her of being a bossy broad, so I think she will butt him again as soon as she gets the chance.

Other excitement around here is that Spencer figured out how to hypnotize our chickens. He learned the trick in a book he got for his birthday, titled, The Encyclopedia of Immaturity, Volume II. It is rather remarkable (the hypnotizing, not the book). Check out the movie clip above.