Don Versus Oscar - Rooster Stare Down (Blog 252)

Our Buff Orpingtons turned 16 weeks old on Wednesday of this week, and our Rhode Island Reds 15 weeks on Monday.  And the alpha cockerel of the former (Oscar) had a stare down with the alpha cockerel of the latter (Don) today.  And it was the older, bigger Oscar that "blinked."

Both cockerels have been crowing for a while, Oscar began almost a month ago and Don started last Monday.  They are both attempting to mate with their hens, and both have thorougly intimidated the other cockerels in their respective pens, which are adjacent to each other.

Of all these momentous events in the life of a young rooster, the stare down today was the most fascinating.  Oscar started the skirmish by walking briskly back and forth along the wire separating the pens.  Don rushed over, puffed himself up, and gave Oscar the evil eye.  Both males locked in their stares for  long seconds until Oscar retreated.

Size usually matters in the world of roosters, but Don, for now, is not only the cock of the heap in the pens but also lord of the backyard.

Elaine Names Our Rhode Island Red Chickens - After Mad Men Characters (Blog 251)

In our household, Elaine and I have different areas of responsibility where one of us is in charge.  One of my spouse's duties is to name our chickens.  Back in April, we received heritage Rhode Island Red chicks in the mail, and this week Elaine has decided that our birds' names will have a Mad Men theme.

Don...The name of our Alpha Rooster.  At 14 weeks, he started to crow and often has brief skirmishes with Roger, although they are good buddies.

Roger...Our Beta rooster. At least four times a day, Don and Roger have one-on-one battles, but all is usually forgiven by fly up time.

Pete... Scared of both Don and Roger as he is at the bottom of the cockerel pecking order.

Joan...Our Alpha hen.  Developed more quickly than the other hens. Always the first out of the hen house in the morning.

Peggy... Our beta hen...a real striver, defers to Joan but doesn't seem to like doing so.

Trudy... A real Gamma girl, the last one out of the hen house in the morning.  Is afraid to assert herself, a really cute hen though.  When food is tossed into the run, Trudy is the last one to move toward it.  The picture below shows Don, Joan, and Peggy.

Honey from St. Gall Farm (Blog 250)

Today, good friend Paul Hinlicky, who along with his wife Ellen operates St. Gall Farm in Roanoke County, Virginia, dropped off some honey that Elaine and I had purchased from him.  Paul has just recently begun raising honeybees and informed us that the first honey was ready for gathering.

Like us, Paul strives to be a locavore, and we were thrilled to support his efforts at that as well as purchasing honey for ourselves that came from "just up the road."  The price is very reasonable at $10.00 a pint, and Elaine said that the quart we bought would be used to sweeten a number of our foods in the coming months.  I can't wait to try it on some of Elaine's homemade sourdough bread... maybe tonight.

If readers would like to purchase some, here is Paul's e-mail address: pehinlicky@hughes.net.

Picking Blueberries with Sam and Sarah (Blog 249)

For several years my daughter Sarah and I have been talking about going on a berry picking expedition to Woodall's Blueberries (http://www.woodallblueberries.blogspot.com/) in Craig County, Virginia.  Today with her son Sam in tow, we finally were able to go.

Everything about the Woodall's is wonderful: mowed paths between the rows, healthy, vigorous plants, and reasonable prices ($12.00 per gallon).  Of course, going anywhere with my three-year-old grandson Sam can be an adventure.  A steady, light rain fell during the 85 minutes or so it took for Sarah and myself to each pick a gallon.  Sam after starting strong in the berry picking department soon became distracted by the nearby pond, bugs in the grass, the rows which were ideal for him to run up and down, and his penchant for eating as many berries as he picked.

But sopping wet, we finally finished our mission around 10:15 and headed for home.  Elaine immediately made a blueberry cobbler for lunch, a quart was held out for pancakes and toppings for oatmeal in the coming days, the rest was frozen for the winter.

We'll be back next summer.

My Week as an Outdoor Writer (Blog 248)

I have truly enjoyed my 32-year career as an outdoor writer-photographer, but this week, though it went reasonably well, showed how stressful this job can be.  Monday, I went to Moncove Lake State Park and Greenbrier State Forest in West Virginia to do a story.  Tuesday, I float fished the Greenbrier River for a story, then headed for Roanoke County, Virginia to do a story on the comeback of the American chestnut. Wednesday, I headed back to West Virginia for another article, then home to Virginia to work on another one.

Thursday, I finished a story and started another one, and Friday I only worked for about an hour.  Then I surprised Elaine with taking her out to a movie, dinner, then to an ice cream parlor.  I felt like I had neglected her all week.

Today, Saturday, it is off to a book signing and seminars from 9 to 5.  Monday, I hopefully will interview someone to finish another story.  I am thankful for all the work, but things have been very hectic lately.

Raspberries are Ripe (Blog 247)

I relish my time outside whether it is fishing, hunting, or, this time of year, when the wild berry season begins.  This morning, I picked a quart of wild raspberries, stopping at five patches along a two-mile route of rural road in Botetourt County, Virginia.

There is a pleasing rhythm of the berry season, which starts with raspberries in June, blackberries, dewberries and wineberries in July, summer grapes in late August or early September, then with cherries and hackberries coming in later that month.

Paw paws are ripe in late September or early October, then persimmons are the last to ripen, doing so sometime in late October or early to mid November.  There have been years, like last year, when Elaine and I picked persimmons in December for bread and cookies. Tomorrow, I am going to see if I can prevail upon my wife to make raspberry muffins.

Celebrating Our 37th Anniversary: Babysitting the Grandkids (Blog 246)

Last night, Elaine and I babysat our two grandsons, Sam and Eli, at our daughter Sarah's and her husband David's house.  It was their ninth anniversary and our 37th one. After dinner, my evening was spent playing toy trains (three-year-old Sam is a fan of Thomas and his friends) and putting together a puzzle of a very happy chimp.  Elaine entertained one-year-old Eli who was crawling about.

Then it was time to brush Sam's teeth and prepare him for bed.  First it was designated "Sam Time," which he decided would be spent putting together Mr. Potato Head, then it was time for stories, which was another saga of Thomas and his train adventures.

When David and Sarah arrived home, I remarked that Elaine and I met 41 years ago this week at Camp Easter Seal where we were both employees at the summer camp, and here we were all these years later babysitting our grandchildren on our anniversary.  And David quipped, "That would not have been a great pickup line. 'Go out with me, and 41 years later we'll be babysitting our grandchildren on our anniversary.'"

It's true that such a line probably would not have impressed Elaine, but she has made my life wonderful.

Trout Fishing in Virginia's Mountains (Blog 245)

Saturday, I spent most of the morning fly fishing for wild trout on a Virginia mountain stream.  I caught one brown and a sole rainbow, but that was not the most interesting part of my morning in the outdoors.  Just being outside and knowing that I had the opportunity to go after a wild creature that is difficult to catch was, and always is, a fascinating adventure.

There's no question that float fishing smallmouth rivers is my favorite angling activity, but going after wild trout is a strong second.  The similarities between the two pastimes are noteworthy, as both demand that anglers understand how the two game fish relate to current and cover.

The only thing that could have been better is if Elaine had gone with me.  I  hope she will some summer day soon.

A Day on Virginia's Maury River (Blog 244)

Friday, I went fishing on the Maury River with visiting friends from the Potomac River Smallmouth Club (www.prsc.org) Jamie Gold and Bill Amshey.  Before going, I told Jamie and Bill that the water would likely be clear and low and that topwater patterns would likely be the key.  I also suggested that they forget about hard plastic minnow baits and bottom bumping worms, that topwater poppers or soft plastic jerkbaits would likely be the patterns.

We struggled to catch quality size smallmouths all day and by the end of our trip, no one had caught a bass of 12 or more inches.  The general consensus was that the bigger smallies had just not been biting.  That opinion was put to rest when a man and a woman arrived at the take-out just after we did.  The gentleman regaled us with stories of his wife's three 19-inch smallmouths caught on hard plastic minnow jerkbaits and plastic worms.  What a pattern he exclaimed - once again proving how wrong I can be while afield either fishing or hunting. One thing was true as is always the case (and as these pictures show) the Maury is a beautiful river.

Just Born Deer Fawn (Blog 243)

Sunday, I was on my way to go trout fishing in Rockbridge County, Virginia with guide Josh Williams (http://deaddriftva.com/) when we saw a deer fawn standing next to the road.  Josh stopped his vehicle, and I bounded out of the vehicle and began taking photos.

I didn't want to leave the fawn next to the road and knew that the mother doe was likely nearby.  But Josh and I were also concerned that the fawn would blunder out into the road and be hit by a car.  Fascinatingly, while I was taking pictures, the fawn began following me, so I walked across the road and into some weeds and the fawn followed.  Josh and I directed a car around the whitetail, which appeared to have been just born.

And then we decided to leave the fawn to its fate.  The mother doe soon showed up and escorted her fawn away from the road and into a field.  Who knows what tomorrow will bring for the doe and her offspring.

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.