Buff Orpington Chick: Recovering: (Blog 242)

About 10 days ago, the Buff Orpington chick Elaine has named Olivia began, every few minutes, falling over and tumbling then arising again.  Olivia, then age five weeks, also regularly kept her head tilted over and had a hunched stature.

Elaine and I tried various cures such as giving her electrolytes and apple vinegar in her water, as well as spraying her with something designed to kill mites and lice.  We also placed diatomaceous earth in her brooder, as we had separated her from her flockmates.  Nothing worked, and we expected her to die anyday because she was not eating or drinking well.

Then we read an article in Chickens Magazine (www.hobbyfarms.com/chickens-magazine/) where it talked about the benefits of adding probiotics to water to maintain digestive help.  Elaine did so one morning, but we had low expectations.

When I arrived home that afternoon after a day of teaching high school English, I checked in Olivia's brooder and found it empty - and immediately decided that she had died during the day.  Then I looked in the adjacent brooder where Olivia's three flockmates live and saw her there.  What's more, she was walking about reasonably well, though she still took the occasional "tumble."

When Elaine arrived home, I asked her why she had moved Olivia, and she said she had not done so.  The only thing we can figure is that our sick chick felt better, flew to the top of her brooder, then flew down among her flockmates.

We still don't know if Olivia is going to survive, but she is definitely better and is much more active than before. Below is a picture of Olivia in recovery mode.

Frustrating Morning in the West Virginia Turkey Woods (Blog 241)

This morning I arose at 3:00 A.M. to drive 75 miles to my favorite West Virginia turkey farm, which is in Monroe County.  I was overjoyed to hear three gobblers in the pre-dawn murk, and I was able to successfully set up within 100 yards or so to them.

My last decision was to set up to watch the right or left side of a hump, as one of them would be the likely path of the trio.  To be brief, I chose the right side of the hump and the turkeys came across the left side.

Around 6:10, I heard the sounds of putting and walking, both of which grew progressively lighter as the turkeys left the vicinity.  I tried resetting up on them and anticipating where they might have gone, plus changed calls.

But all my strategies went to no avail, and I came home empty-handed.  I am going to take a personal day from school one day this week and try again.

Hunting with Hanks Game Calls (Blog 240)

Saturday, I took Kimmy Hanks and Josh Gray of Hanks Game Calls (http://www.hanksgamecalls.com/) to my Potts Mountain land, which lies in both Virginia and West Virginia.  Having tagged out in Virginia, I went to the West Virginia section and spent the morning shivering in the cold and not hearing or seeing a single turkey.  I could not even find any fresh sign.

When I reconnoitered with Kimmy and Josh around 11:00, I was fascinated to learn that they had doubled around 8:00 A.M., both killing longbeards.  What's more, they had heard five or maybe even six gobblers, heard them gobbling scores of times, and experienced a scintillating hunt.

Once again, I was amazed at the vagaries of spring gobbler hunting.  I could have sworn that the entire mountain was void of turkeys, yet in one portion of it, there were birds everywhere.  I am going to return to the mountain this week before I go to school, even though I will only have an hour to hunt.

Called in a Hunter Today (Blog 239)

This morning, friend Doak Harbison and I were turkey hunting in Botetourt County, Virginia.  Fortunately, I had tagged out and had the great joy of not carrying a gun and trying to help Doak take a tom.  At dawn, we heard seven gobblers sound off but they had hens with them so we knew we had little chance until that magic 10:00 to 11:00 hour when the hens often depart to their nests.

At 10:15, just like we had hoped, a gobbler cranked up in response to yelps from my box call.  And soon the bird was on its way through the woods, and we felt, into the field that borders the woodlot where we had set up.  Doak and I both became excited and felt that everything was working in our favor.

Then suddenly, we saw two hunters walk into the field at the exact spot where we had anticipated the gobbler would come.  A field where they were trespassing.  Of course, the gobbler became silent and we can only assume that he saw the two hunters.

It's just not safe to stay near people like the two individuals.  So we headed to our respective homes.

Reading to the Grandkids (Blog 238)

The other day Elaine took a picture of our soon to be three-year-old grandson and me while I was reading to him.  I don't remember the particular story I was reading to him, but Sam knew most of the words.  So when I would pause, he would complete the rest of the sentence, no doubt having heard the tale many times from his parents and grandparents.

As a retired elementary school teacher, Elaine feels that Sam's vocabulary is very good for his age, and I agree.  As a high school English teacher, I see students who don't like reading, and when I talk with these young folks, I often learn that no one read to them when they were young.  That is a mistake that parents shouldn't make and an activity that is so easy to do.

Sam knows all the characters in his Thomas the Train books, and he can talk endlessly about their virtues and flaws.  Every night before bedtime, his parents read to him, just like my mom did for me when I was little.  A lifelong love for reading can begin at a very young age.

Buff Orpington Chicks Growing, Rhode Island Red Chicks Arrive (Blog 237)

Elaine and I have had our hands full this week, taking care of our baby chicks.  The heritage Buff Orpingtons from The Fancy Chick hatched on April 1 and 2 and a dozen heritage Rhode Island Red chicks arrived from Dick Horstman in Pennsylvania on Tuesday.

Our four Buff Orpingtons are, obviously, more able to stand out as individuals than the dozen Reds.  There is a very clear pecking order with the former, while chaos constantly exists in the brooder with the Reds as the chicks constantly step, leap, and land on each other.

Next week a friend is supposed to come over and help us extend our chicken run and build a new henhouse.  Sometime in May, it will be time for our young charges to live outside.  And sometime in fall, we should hear some crowing and having eggs to gather.

Our goal is for next year, our hens to start brooding their own eggs.

Buff Orpingtons Hatch (Blog 236)

In early March, Elaine and I ordered some heritage Buff Orpington eggs from The Fancy Chick (www.thefancychick.com) in California.  We have always raised Rhode Island Reds, but we wanted to try another breed as we had heard that Buff Orpingtons were very gentle and people-friendly.

The chicks started trying to break through Tuesday evening, and we were awoken shortly after midnight on April Fool's Day.  Actually, I should say that I awoke as I am a much lighter sleeper than Elaine is.  I heard the just hatched chick scurrying around in the incubator and had to wake up Elaine for her to come see.

She didn't mind at all the rude awakening, and a second chick came into the world around 6:00 A.M. that morning.  Right now, as I write, a third chick has poked a hole in its egg and is busily hammering away.  We received 14 eggs from California, so we don't yet know how many will hatch, but it is with great fun - and anticipation - that we are studying the incubator.

Babysitting the Grandchildren on a Saturday Night (Blog 235)

Married couples go through various stages in their lives together.  The Saturday date night when we are young, the Saturday night baths when the kids start coming, the Saturday night waiting for the kids to come home stage, and the empty nester period.  Now after nearly 38 years of marriage, Elaine and I had the Babysitting the Grandchildren on a Saturday Night experience last night.

The evening began around 4:00 when we arrived to babysit Sam, who will be three in June, and Eli, who will be one in April.  Elaine's game plan was for her to work mostly with Sam while my task was to take care of Eli.  Eli only began crawling a fortnight or so ago, but already he has metamorphosed from someone who seemingly had to think about putting one hand in front of another to someone who is aggressively scooting about.

Matters went reasonably well until it was time for us to put our respective grandsons to bed.  Elaine read and talked to Sam, who quickly and willingly settled down and went to sleep.  I was not as successful with Eli.  The bottle feeding went well as Eli drank almost an entire one.

Then it was time for the rocking and singing stage.  I have a terrible singing voice and really only know one tune, "You Are My Sunshine" which I used to sing to our kids Sarah and Mark when they were toddlers.

After about 30 renditions of "You Are My Sunshine," I deemed Eli ready to be placed in his bed.  He was not ready and let me know so with loud sobs.  This resulted in more rocking and more choruses of the tune and another trip to the bed, which led to more sobs, though they were not as loud this time.

Finally, Elaine entered the room and told me to let him "work it out on his own," so I left.  In about five minutes, as we could tell from the monitor, Eli was asleep.  So I guess I did okay after all.

Target Shooting on a Sunday Afternoon (Blog 234)

One of many reasons why I enjoy living out in the country was in evidence Sunday afternoon.  I had received a new Redhead Bi-Pod Shooting Stick in the mail and wanted to try it out.  So I asked my son Mark and son-in-law David to come over and test it.  
Once they arrived, we discussed where was the best place to set up and the result was the driveway, as our test gun was a .22 rimfire rifle. The driveway has a downward slope and a woodpile is at the end of it.
We each took turns and the consensus was that the shooting stick performed well and the rifle was on target.  Imagine doing what we did in suburbia.
This morning I awoke and while feeding the chickens, I heard both woodcocks and turkeys.  I hope one of those gobblers behind our house has my proverbial name on it.

Woodcocks Return (Blog 233)

This week, the woodcocks returned to our 38 acres in Botetourt County, Virginia.  For the first 22 years that Elaine and I have lived here, we never heard or saw one of these game birds.  But in December of 2010, we conducted two small clearcuts, and these birds have responded.

I first heard those chirped, whistling sounds of a woodcock's aerial display on Tuesday, followed up by the diagnostic peents while the male is earthbound.  Within a few days, I heard what may have been as many as four males performing their mating dance.

Several years ago, I encountered a woodcock in our front yard during the day.  He did not fly when I came near, apparently secure in his camouflage.  I quickly went inside and returned with my camera and was able to squeeze off one photo before the bird decided that this odd nearby creature might be a threat, which, of course, I wasn't.  Perhaps, I will have another opportunity to photograph another one this coming week.

First Gobble of the Season, First Egg (Blog 232)

Tuesday, March 3 while walking at dawn, I heard my first gobble of the season.  Later that day, our Rhode Island reds resumed laying eggs for the first time since late November.  Coincidence? I don't think so.

Both turkeys and chickens have a pineal gland, that remarkable gland that has to do with photo period functions.  As the days grow longer and the nights shorter, toms begin to gobble and hens resume laying eggs, which they had stopped laying when they began to molt in late fall/early winter.  All of this regarding the life cycles of turkeys and chickens, the pineal gland has a great deal to do with.

It hasn't happened yet, but in a few days to a week, one morning behind our house, some roosted hens will break out in some serious yelping.  Toms on our land and upstream and downstream from us will break out into a paroxysm of gobbling in response.  The entire scenario makes me want opening day of spring gobbler season to come soon.

A Towhee, Hermit Thrush, and a Diminishing Woodpile (Blog 231)

It is two hours before sundown on the last day of February, and the forecast is for freezing rain/ice for Sunday morning.  I sigh and head for the woodpile, as Elaine and I both feel a few more split logs in the garage might come in handy for the next morning.

As I am splitting a white oak, I hear some chirping in the woods and look up to see a hermit thrush - a bird that often over winters here in Botetourt County, Virginia.  It is the third time today that I have seen this thrush - or one of his brethren - and I stop to watch him as he hunts for food.

The thrush flies under our sundeck and roots around in the leafy debris, the only place in the area that is not covered with eight inches or more of snow.  Earlier in the week, I had watched a towhee head for the same snow free zone.

I don't resume splitting wood until the hermit thrush has left the deck area.  I don't want to do anything to disrupt his search of  food, as the woodpile is quite close to the deck.  The little tidbits that the thrush has found there might be just enough for him to survive another cold, winter night.  Survival of wildlife

is such a tenuous thing here in the mountains and valleys of Southwest Virginia, especially during the last two weeks when three different snowfalls have taken place.

I finish splitting wood, putting some in the garage and some near the hearth of our wood stove.  Elaine and I will be warm tonight, and I hope to see the hermit thrush and towhee tomorrow.

Snow, Shoveling, Squirrels, Sourdough, and Strawberry Jam (Blog 230)

Except for one trek to the grocery store, I have been at home since last Friday as winter has gripped Botetourt County and Southwest Virginia.  Elaine returned home from quilt camp (yes, there is such a thing and Elaine enjoys her time there immensely) on Sunday evening.  The snow and intense cold (the temperature is below 0 this Thursday morning) here in the hollow has resulted in very little snow melt.

So my days have fallen into a routine of writing in the morning, tending the chickens (they rarely leave the hen house and whine when I come by), shoveling snow, and occasionally squirrel hunting for an hour or so.  I have yet to see a squirrel though, as the bushytails, like the chickens, seem disinclined to leave their shelters.

Tuesday, however, I asked Elaine to make some sourdough bread.  Our starter comes from nationally known sourdough expert Soc Clay of Kentucky.  Not long after Elaine and I married in 1978, we obtained some sourdough starter from Soc, and a little container of it has resided in our refrigerator ever since.

Even after all these years, it is fascinating to watch Elaine kneed the doe, and when the bread comes out of the oven, it is a taste and smell sensation.  To brighten up a dark night one evening, we opened up a jar of strawberry jam (made from berries from our garden last May) and slathered it upon the bread.  Life is good, and so is wintertime - no matter how cold.

The Passing of My Role Model: Dean Smith (Blog 229)

The person I admired most and who was and is my role model, former North Carolina Coach Dean Smith, passed away last Saturday.  Elaine and I were at home Sunday when I read about Dean's passing.  At first to Elaine, I expressed relief that he had died because the stress his illness had likely placed on his family.

But then grief overcame me, and I sobbed hard for several minutes.  I became a Carolina fan in 1966 when I was 14, and over the years Coach Smith shaped me as man and as a high school English teacher.  I read Dean's books and followed his philosophy on life.  Meaning in part, that I should treat my students with respect, that I should set high expectations for them and that they should meet those expectations, and that I should be honest and forthright in my dealings with them and others.

Over the years, I was able to meet and talk with three of the men who played for Coach Smith: Dave Colescott, Eric Montross, and Travis Stephenson.  Colescott visited my high school English class and told my students about the importance of education and striving to be the best possible person one could be; these were things that Coach Smith emphasized to him.  Colescott also told the students about the importance of even little life skills, such as being punctual.  The former Carolina guard said that he had once been late for practice and that Coach Smith said that his tardiness showed a lack of respect for his teammates. Coach Smith further said that Dave would have the "honor" of practicing with his teammates the next day.  That story is one of the reasons I am so insistent about my students being on time...as a way to show respect for their classmates.

Eric Montross was a big star in college and played in the NBA.  Travis Stephenson was a sub at UNC and played sparingly.  But both individuals, who played with each other at Carolina, told me that Dean treated all players the same, no matter what their reputation or skill levels were.  That he cared about each and every player as individuals.

I never met Coach Smith and never wrote a letter to him thanking him for his positive effect on my life.  But he will always be a part of who I am as a teacher, husband, and person.

Outdoors with Sam (Blog 228)

My grandson Sam is now about a little past  2 1/2, and I am thinking more and more about the outdoors fun that I will have with him in the future.  This past weekend, I introduced him to how to bring wood in from the woodpile to stoke Elaine's and my wood stove.

Sam was very enthusiastic about the prospect, announcing that he was going to "heat e-mama's house," his word for Elaine.  I often tell him that it is e-daddy's house, too, but Sam always says no that it is e-mama's house, but does allow that I live there, too.  Of course, this delights Elaine to no end.

On this our first attempt to bring in wood, Sam was unable to grasp the concept of carrying wood in a bundle, instead picking up two or three small sticks and carrying them in a haphazardly way.  It was no matter, of course.  To him, he was doing the gentlemanly thing of keeping his grandmother warm, and that man that lives there with her.

I hope Sam and I can go fishing this summer, but Elaine thinks he may be too young this year.  Of course, the decision is up to his parents, David and Sarah.  If Sam does go fishing and if he does catch any, I am sure that he will want to bring them home to feed e-mama, who hopefully will share the bounty with e-daddy, too.

Saturday at Home (Blog 227)

Since deer season ended  four weeks ago, Elaine and I have spent our weekends at home, except for the one at the annual Richmond fishing show.  After hunting or scouting every weekend from mid August through early January, I have really enjoyed a leisurely pace.

Today, I worked on a story for two hours, walked three miles, and cleaned the hen house before lunch. Then after lunch, I cut wood and did Timber Stand Improvement behind the house for several hours.  It is a real joy puttering behind the house, doing nothing of great consequence, but still gaining great satisfaction by building up our supply of firewood and freeing up some hardwoods so that they produce more mast.

After dinner and after a very disappointing North Carolina basketball loss, Elaine and I played Scrabble and listened to Prairie Home Companion.  Elaine soundly defeated me in Scrabble, winning by over 100 points.  I conceded defeat when there were still some 20 tiles left.

Not an epic day, but a relaxing one.

Turkey Hunting Goals for the Spring (Blog 226)

Last week, I wrote about my river smallmouth fishing goals for the year.  This week, my mind has turned to what I would like to accomplish this spring in the turkey woods.
1. Call in a gobbler for my son Mark.  I have taken Mark turkey hunting a number of times, but I have rarely put him in a position to kill a bird.  This year I want to.
2. Learn how to use a wingbone call.  I have gone turkey hunting every spring for the past 10 years-plus with my mentor Larry Proffitt of Elizabethton, Tennessee.  With his trumpet calls, Larry has called in a number of birds for me.  I've witnessed first hand how effective this call can be.
3. Learn how to make better and more consistent gobbler yelps.  I can do this in a satisfactory manner with many slate pot and pegs.  But I need to be more consistent with my efforts.  And I also need to learn how to make this sound with something other than a slate.
4. Learn how to more effectively use a pileated woodpecker call.  This is an offbeat locator call that has more potential than many people realize.  On several occasions, I have had hens respond to this call but never a gobbler.
5. Learn how to make better purrs with a box call.  Mine are just too loud.  It's strange that I can make much better purrs with a diaphragm than a box.

Month after next, I hope to be hunting in Tennessee for that state's opening day.  I can hardly wait.

Thinking about Where I Want to River Smallmouth Fish This Year (Blog 225)

It's winter, and the water temperature on Virginia and West Virginia's upland rivers is likely hovering in the upper 30s and lower 40s this morning.  I have already been fishing on the New River once this year, with no success, but that was more because I am a mediocre at best, probably, in reality much less than mediocre, wintertime angler than because the fish weren't there.

This year, I would like to do the following concerning angling for river smallmouths.

1. Finally become competent with the jig and pig in cold water conditions.
2. Spend more time on the Maury River, a fine underrated smallmouth river near my Botetourt County, Virginia home.
3. Not become so consumed with spring gobbler hunting in Virginia and West Virginia that I don't go fishing for river smallies as much as I should.  This will be the hardest objective for sure.
4. Return to the upper Rappahannock for the first time in several years.
5. Go on more late afternoon smallie excursions on the James in Botetourt County.
6. Go fly fishing for smallies at night on the New River with guide Britt Stoudenmire of the New River Outdoor Company.

Readers may note that there's no mention of my goals for catching 20-inch smallmouths.  I've always felt "they will come when they will come." If I am reading the water correctly and making good decisions, I will catch fish in the 14-to 18-inch size range and eventually a 20-incher will be mixed in.  If I am making poor decisions, then I will not catch big fish.

We will see how things work out.

Thinking about Spring Gobbler Season (Blog 224)

I know that several months must pass before I can even anticipate the beginning of the spring gobbler season in Tennessee, Virginia, and West Virginia...the three states that I hunt in every spring.  But Saturday morning I took my first tentative steps toward preparing for the event.

My  2 1/2-year-old grandson Sam and I hauled the Christmas trees from his house and Elaine's and mine into the woods to a white oak that lies at the left turn of a seeded logging road that runs across much of our Botetourt County, Virginia's 38 acres. I positioned the two evergreens around the white oak, telling Sam that we were building a fort.

Of course, Sam may end up playing there this summer, but this spring I hope the little citadel may be a place where I can call in a gobbler.  The two downed trees should offer some concealment, and I will add some other cut cedars and pines in the weeks to come.  At that same tree, I called in and killed two fall turkeys in December, so I already know the place is a favored locale.

Catawba Creek lies just over the ridge, and turkeys have long roosted there.  Anyway, the fort building was something to do on a bitterly cold January morning.

Enjoying Foods from Hunting, Gathering, and Growing (Blog 223)

One of the articles I wrote during the holidays just came out on the Quality Deer Management Association's website... http://www.qdma.com/articles/deer-tongue-for-dinner.  As the link indicates, the article is about my cooking and eating deer tongue.  Some folks may find it incredulous that I would eat such a thing, but I really enjoy experimenting and eating what nature has to offer.

The deer tongue was especially good on a salad I had Christmas week, and also in December Elaine and I dined on persimmon/walnut cookies, wild turkey leg soup, all kinds of venison dishes, and, of course, egg dishes courtesy of our chickens as well as Rome apple bread from our backyard tree.

We have ordered from various seed catalogs, and the freezer is full with deer and turkey meat, plus quart bags of wild berries.  I look forward to more experimenting in the coming year.