The Miracle of Birth: Twin lambs

Mama Tastebud picked the most idyllic spot to give birth: a peaceful corner of the pasture, secluded and surrounded by pine trees. As the sun filtered down through the trees and we sat on the ground, we felt exceedingly grateful to have been present at such a sacred moment. And I've got to say, as a pregnant lady it's majorly inspiring to see the ease of animal births.

I've read that though birth is now a highly medicalized event in American culture, most modern midwives (most notably, the wonderful and deservedly famous Ina May Gaskin) believe that something like 98% of the time, women are perfectly capable of having a fully natural birth without interventions -- and I've heard almost exactly the same statistic from sheep farmers. The vast majority of sheep give birth to their lambs easily and without incident, only very occasionally needing a helping hand from the farmer. Inspiring, indeed!

Here's the birth video: it's not too bloody, but there's definitely some gooey things going on and it's no holds barred! I think it's amazing to see how easily baby number two just slipped right out. (Pardon the heavy breathing on the video -- I was excited, plus have been short of breath right from the beginning of this pregnancy!)

Not just one, but TWO new additions to our farm

Last Friday we welcomed adorable newborn ewe lamb Tallulah to the farm. Maggie and I got to watch her birth out of our kitchen window, then rushed to get to meet her within her first minutes of life, while she was covered in gloop and being licked clean by her mama. 

It was a pretty special experience, but we had an even more exciting experience the day before Tallulah's birth: we found out that we'll have another new addition to the farm in October 2015. That's right.  I am pregnant again and all three of us are absolutely overwhelmed with excitement and joy. When I first saw the two lines on the pregnancy test I couldn't stop grinning. Maggie bounced off the walls the rest of the day, she was so thrilled. 

 I feel peace in embracing the joy of expecting this new member of our family, my third baby. Do I fear that this baby will leave us as Wendell did, that we will experience another stillbirth or miscarriage? The thought is in the back of my mind, of course, and in my experience pregnancy goes hand in hand with anxiety naturally anyway, but right now the most prominent feeling I have is peace. I know I can survive losing a baby, that my marriage can survive, that my daughter can survive. And really, not only survive, but come out stronger and wiser and more in touch with life and love and reality. 

I suppose sometime soon I need to share in this space about the process of Wendell's birth. I feel deeply that how he was born, the support I had, the thoroughly spiritual experience I had of laboring naturally with my husband at my side, the connection I had with my dear midwife Joanne, has very much informed how I feel now about Wendell's birth and death. I look back at our story and think, "I was not traumatized by this birth. I am not afraid to get pregnant and give birth again." I had a birth that I am proud of. 

There's a lot to be thankful for with this new baby, even as we continue to miss having Wendell here with us. It is a bittersweet joy because I know that if Wendell had been born healthy on his due date, we'd have a seven week old baby boy instead of a six week old new pregnancy. This new baby wouldn't exist if Wendell was alive. But that is okay, to feel those conflicting emotions. I don't feel a need to separate my emotions and am okay with whatever they need to be during this pregnancy: joy, grief, gratitude, peace, anxiety, fear, sadness, anger. Whatever emotions need to come will come and we will all get through them and be all the stronger for them.

For now, I'm basking in the joy of carrying new life... and keeping my fingers crossed that with this pregnancy I can avoid the intense morning sickness I had with Wendell. ;)

This Week on the Farm: July 4

It's been a lovely week. I'm enjoying the "honeymoon" second trimester and the weather has been surprisingly temperate. Lots of time to get out into the garden and to spend time with our animals.

The thornless blackberry canes that I planted last year are going crazy! We've only got maybe twenty berries, but the canes are multiplying and sorely in need of a trellis system. I'm excited for next year, when this plant will produce lots more blackberries and when we can finally let our blueberry bushes grow some berries.

Oh, these ducks! They're four months old now and much less of a pain to clean up after now that we just let them free-range in the pasture. There's some risk that a predator might get them at night, but everything has been fine so far. Although they're not nearly as filthy as they were when they were in a contained space, they do manage to dirty up the water containers very quickly, as you can see here. 

The middle fella in this picture is definitely a male; he doesn't look that much different from the other two but is beginning to get some iridescent green feathers on his head, which identifies him as a drake.

Spottle is my favorite of our two older ewes. We developed a special bond during the short time that I milked her. She's just got a sweet, gentle disposition and is a great mama.

Little Sassy. She's Spottle's ewe lamb, almost seven months old now and as sweet as can be. She is looking more and more like her mama as she grows. She's not nearly as skittish as her unnamed twin brother, who wants nothing to do with us (which is smart on his part, since he's our freezer lamb!).

Tiberius and Sassy. Tiberius is a naughty, naughty boy (I don't risk going in the pasture with him anymore unless he's tied up or put in the pen), but I just think he's gorgeous and his nose wrinkles are adorable. I hope he passes down his red coloring to the lambs he sires.

Since Tastebud lost her winter coat she's been looking so pretty and clean. Well, as clean as a white sheep can be when it wallows in the red dirt all day. I love her pink nose.

Our chicks are growing up! We've got seven total and I think at least three of those are roosters. Hard to know for sure until the roo's start crowing. The ones here are Buff Orpingtons (the yellow ones), Easter Eggers (the red ones), and Speckled Sussex (the white and black ones).

The bush beans have quit producing already, but the pole beans are just getting started. These are yard-long beans, which really do get a yard long. I've been experimenting with cooking them; they're not as crisp as regular green beans so they do better with being sautéed than with being steamed. I may try roasting them in the oven and cooking them in a curry.

We've got plenty of green tomatoes on all eight tomato plants, but these first ones to ripen have been full of worms. I'm not too worried, since we've got several grape and cherry tomato plants and worms tend to leave those alone, plus our chickens are thrilled to get the wormy tomatoes that we don't want.

This Week on the Farm: June 27, 2014

We've had quite an emotional week here at Haven Homestead. We celebrated Josh's birthday (31!), slaughtered our favorite hen, dealt with a ram who is becoming increasingly aggressive, and had a series of unfortunate events after moving six baby rabbits to a new pen, including two escapes of babies into the neighbors yard and one eye injury. We've tried to take it all in stride - the difficult parts of farming come right alongside the enjoyable parts. Our animals are a lot of fun, but a lot of work and sometimes a lot of heartache.

We've been spending a lot of family time outdoors these days. It's buggy and hot but we wear long sleeves and pants to fend off the mosquitos and are mostly at peace with all the sweating that happens along the way. Around 7:00 Josh usually goes off to tend the animals and I go off to tend the garden, with Maggie bouncing back and forth between us assisting in sundry tasks (turning the water hose on and off, picking beans, pulling weeds, feeding rabbits) and hunting down insects to study.

Maggie will tell just about anyone that she's a "nature scientist" and she loves our outdoor time when she can explore our tiny piece of land. She's getting into garden work as well, particularly getting excited over our harvests. In the spring we volunteered some with a local food organization and Maggie learned to make kale chips. Ever since, she's been making them almost completely on her own from our garden-fresh kale.

Our sheep have been enjoying the weeding we've done this week in the back garden, which is up against the pasture fence. All kinds of weeds are getting thrown to them and they seem to especially love these huge thick tall ones. Tiberius the ram is especially enthusiastic about weeds, yanking them out of our hands when they are offered.

I love our outdoor cats Harriet and Charlemagne -- they're a lot of fun to have around and not much work. I often glance out one of the kitchen windows to see one staring at me, perched either on the car or on the porch railing. They spend a lot of time sunbathing stretched out on the back porch, but with all that laziness still manage to be hunting machines. Almost every other day we find a vole, or a field mouse, or a baby garter snake, or a lizard, or a bird lying dead in the driveway in front of the car, a disgusting token of feline affection.

Reflections on the Slaughter of a Favorite Hen

Yesterday we said goodbye to Ruby, our Rhode Island Red hen. She's an old bird with a lot of personality and has always been our favorite hen: independent, feisty, plucky, the boss lady of the flock. From the moment we got our first chickens about two and a half years ago, we knew this day would come. Chickens don't consistently lay forever; once they hit a certain age they go through a kind of menopause and don't produce eggs as regularly. We were able to sell our younger hens, but Ruby is a year older than them and no one wanted to purchase her. We knew what that meant we had to do.

Josh handled the processing while I puttered around the kitchen trying to avoid an emotional breakdown by not thinking about what was about to happen, but I glanced out the window just as Josh walked through the backyard, gently carrying Ruby in his arms to the slaughter location. I know death is quick with a sharp scalpel, over in a matter of seconds, almost painless to the chicken, but I dissolved into tears when I saw our perky feisty bird going quietly to her death.

Possibly the hardest part of farming with livestock is getting to know the creatures you will eventually be eating. Maybe it's easier on a large commercial farm, but here we've got so few animals and interact with each so regularly that we get to see personalities and quirks of each animal. There is no emotional distance when you feed, hold, and care for an animal daily. Your heart becomes entangled with theirs as their wellbeing is so important to your own. When our animals suffer, we suffer. When they are content and healthy, we are happy. We laugh at their antics and rejoice in their good health. We are privileged to care for them and live side by side with them.

I am grateful for the life we've given Ruby and all our hens, a natural life filled with roaming the pasture foraging for clover and insects, taking dust baths, resting in the shade during the heat of the day, and coming back to roost in the coop at dusk. Yet as I rejoice in the life we're blessed to give our livestock, I am also reminded that it is a privilege for us to be able to give our animals a last parting gift in the slaughter process. When we intentionally end the life of one of our animals we do all we can to ensure that death comes swiftly, quietly, painlessly, and without fear or stress. This is more than can be said for death in commercial slaughterhouses, places filled with the smell of blood, an undercurrent of fear, loud noises, terrified animals. Whether in a commercial slaughterhouse or here on our small farm, death is never easy or pretty, yet I do believe it can be handled with dignity and in a way that honors the animal that is being killed.

I've been eating more meat outside our home since getting pregnant, excusing my choice by telling myself I need more protein. That excuse seems flimsy when I think of all I know about factory farming and the processing that occurs in commercial slaughterhouses. I feel there is an emotional toll taken every time I consume meat that has not been raised with the animal's wellbeing in mind. I can never eat that meat with a clear conscience; it is always haunting me even as I attempt to smother my moral qualms.

I've written impassioned views on wanting all of mankind to see the suffering of factory farmed animals and rise up in arms about it, but what I'm seeing so clearly now is how much it harms me personally to be complicit in the factory farming system. The only time my passion wavers is when I crave a specific food item and choose to ignore my morals in order to satiate my craving. Every time I do that I am indulging in my senses rather than in my morals and it chips away at something in my soul.

When I consume factory-raised farm animals I purposefully ignore their suffering and it makes it that much easier to ignore, justify, or turn away from any kind of suffering in the world. I don't want my soul to become calloused in that way. The life of a chicken may seem insignificant in the face of all the human suffering that is in the world, but if my heart is calloused rather than tender than I cannot respond appropriately when I see human suffering.

It is said that sociopathic individuals first show their lack of empathy through cruelty towards animals, which often later progresses into harming humans. Engaging in cruelty, whether explicit or complicit, has its consequences on the heart and soul.

As I wrestle with the issue of us slaughtering our livestock and what that means to me emotionally and morally, I see that my grief over the loss of a hen is both healthy and morally necessary, a vital reminder of the importance of each life. It will never be easy to slaughter an animal we have cared for and I believe that is how it should be.  Life, whether human or animal, is not meant to be meaningless. Life is precious no matter what creature it inhabits. It is a force to be honored and respected.

Sometimes in this farm business I find myself wishing I could be more numb, to care less about my animals. Yet Jonathan Safran Foer writes, "You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness." And it is true, the sadness of animal slaughter is tempered with a great sense of fulfillment and even joy. Caring for livestock is a wonderful privilege and one we take pride in.

Today as I mourn the death of a hen that I loved, I'm reminded of how I want to live and eat. I want to consume food with my emotions fully engaged and my brain active and aware. I want to be able to truly enjoy what I eat and that means eating knowledgeably rather than in chosen ignorance. I've found there is something different about eating food that is produced here on our farm. All my emotions and senses are fully engaged when I eat a hearty meal of lamb chops from our own lambs, when I eat chicken and dumplings from our own chickens, when I eat mashed potatoes and sautéed green beans from our own garden. I feel a joy and pleasure that goes deeper than my tastebuds. I'm satiated both sensorily and soulfully. I can rejoice in the sweat and tears that has gone into the meal.

I want my soul to be enriched when I eat, to be made larger rather than depleted by my culinary choices. I am grateful to Ruby for the life-force she has given for us and for the privilege of getting to care for her. I am grateful to be reminded that life is precious and meant to be honored and that I have the great privilege to do so every time I choose what I will eat.

This Week on the Farm: June 14, 2014

Summer is almost here! Wild blackberries are growing profusely and everything everywhere is green and growing so quickly. All the animals have been spending large parts of the day stretched out in the shade, trying to stay cool.

This week we had to begin tying up our ram Tiberius before going into the pasture to care for all the animals in there. He's just been getting too feisty and mean, beginning to challenge us by lowering his head and pushing into our legs or simply refusing to back up when we're trying to walk near him. Rams can be dangerous animals and we knew from the start that we couldn't make a pet of Tiberius. He's a big boy of at least 200 pounds and full of testosterone and a desire to keep his ladies safe. At any rate, tying him up keeps us safe and him from being sent to the freezer for becoming too dangerous towards us. He definitely doesn't like it though and using the one halter we have that's bright purple probably doesn't help his dignity.

We've gotten so much rain in the last week that our pasture was practically a swamp. It began stinking to high heavens and all the animals were coated with mud. Thankfully we've had a few dry days and I've been able to get back into the garden to tackle some of the weeds that sprang up during all the rain.

Tonight I made the first big harvest of the year: a giant bunch of kale that I blended up to be frozen into ice cubes for smoothie making, a couple handfuls of green & yellow beans, a gorgeous Autumn Beauty sunflower that sprouted from last year's scattered seeds, a small bowlful of Yukon Gold potatoes, and three big ol' zucchini that are a cute round variety. 

We've also got a crazy amount of eggs sitting on our counter. Really, something like 6 dozen. It is out of control. Since getting pregnant I've had so many food aversions and have been unable to cook without getting nauseous, so the eggs have been piling up as the hens diligently laid 3-5 per day as usual. We ended up listing the hens on Craigslist and all but one sold. It was sad to see them go but all of them went to homes in folks' backyard where they'll be well-loved. The 2 month old chicks we've got will begin laying towards the end of my pregnancy and my fingers are crossed that I can cook by then!

Welcome to Haven Homestead

As we celebrated our one year anniversary of living on this land, we realized the time had come to christen it. We had thrown around ideas but none seemed to stick. There was no big rush anyway, we wanted to settle into the unique feel of this particular piece of land. The hope was to wait to give it a name that would perfectly suit its individual character, for no two pieces of land are made equal.

Recently we buckled down and put our heads together and came up with a name. It's been good, putting some of our "mission statement" into clear thoughts on paper. More on that soon, for we've found without a guiding mission we'd be running all over the place. I know if I didn't have a clear purpose I'd be buying up every heirloom plant and heritage breed animal I came across... luckily I have a steady fella to rein me in from my often too-wild ambitions.

Haven Homestead. This is our farm's name and in just a minute I will explain why we chose this name. I've been hesitant to make it official. It's just so... permanent. And permanence is something that I, having never lived in the same place for more than four years, still know very little of. It's something I hope to learn from our land. There is something truly wonderful about planting blueberry bushes knowing that they will yield little for the next couple years, but that after those two years they will bear fruit until my children are grown with little ones of their own.

Homestead: any dwelling with its land and buildings where a family makes its home

From the start, I liked the idea of classifying ourselves as a homestead rather than a farm. "Homestead" implies a small-scale, family-focused type of farming. Right now our main purpose is not to build a business, though we would love for our farm to be economically viable at some point. First, though, we want to figure out how to provide for our own family. That takes a lot of things, patience most of all -- which has very much been a learned trait for me (and I still jump ahead of myself almost daily).

Over the past year I have learned so much about caring for my family: continuing to pursue food that nourishes our body, learning about natural healing for our health, working our faith into more parts of our daily life, keeping our household relatively tidy. I've gained a new desire to nourish.  I have seen how the desire to nourish has roots that penetrate into my views of everything. Our little piece of land is giving us the ability to nourish ourselves in so many ways. As the homesteaders of old, we are taking a raw piece of land and building it into a place that will sustain our family both physically and spiritually.

Haven: a place of safety and refuge; shelter

The term "shelter" often gets a bad rap, particularly when it comes to parenting. We decry other parents for "sheltering" their children too much, but isn't providing protection and comfort one of the key vocations of a mother, of a family? To shelter your children does not have to mean living in denial. It can mean that we look into the eye of the storm, acknowledge that there is evil and injustice and pain and suffering, yet strive to offer an alternative in our own homes. We can provide a safe place for our children to grow, a place where they can test boundaries and gain confidence in themselves and still have comfort for when their hearts are bruised. God never meant for us to weather the storms of life alone. The family unit can be a beautiful example of His grace and comfort in a world filled with too much pain and too many hurt people hurting others.

Our hope is for our homestead to be a place of refuge for ourselves, for our children, and for all who spend time in our home. Our children will one day venture forth alone, but my own hope is that my children will never hesitate to seek shelter on our homestead when they need it.

So, Haven Homestead. It's a name with grand aspirations. Ones we hope to live up to, even as we falter and make mistakes on the path towards growth.