The ugly truth about vegetarian hens

If you're like lots of egg eaters who don't own their own laying hens, you buy the fancy, vegetarian, cage-free, organic eggs at the supermarket.

Maybe you buy them because you care about the humane treatment of animals. Cage-free eggs mean the chickens actually walk around, doing what nature intended chickens to do, which is far better than the alternative. Those cheap eggs come from hens that spend their lives in a tiny, dusty, brightly lit prison cell, eating, pooping, and laying eggs, ultimately culminating in their sad, untimely deaths in a matter of mere months. Yes, cage-free is DEFINITELY better.

Maybe you buy the fancy eggs because you're making a conscious decision to eat healthier. Organic is good, vegetarian diet is really good. The chickens that lay your eggs need to be meat-free in order to produce healthy eggs, right? Surely the soy or other organic vegetarian protein source in their vegetarian feed offers the hens enough protein to produce tasty, high-quality eggs. Well, friends, that's the theory.

Here's the reality. Chickens are omnivores. That means, they're NOT vegetarians, and an "all vegetarian diet" is not what nature intended. It's also impossible to completely control what a chicken eats, without confining it to a cage 24 hours a day. As a result, healthy, cage-free birds find other ways to obtain their necessary protein from their environment. Outdoors, that means they have access to bugs, worms, snails, slugs--normal chicken fare. In a mostly indoor, cage-free environment, it means they will most likely be eating their own eggs, sometimes other chickens, and, lots of times, rodents.

Case in point: A couple mornings ago, I went in to feed our hens and immediately realized my kids had left the lid ajar on the grain bin. This is what I saw when I opened it.

Yep, no fewer than 19 mice trapped in the bottom of the feed bin. Hmm. Now what? Since Boy was party to the violation that led to the rodent entrapment, I enlisted him to help me dispatch them, but not before our hen Pecky caught sight of the little buggers frantically scurrying and jumping up and down in the grain bin.

Pecky wasted no time. She reached down and plucked a mouse out of the bin before I could do anything to stop her, and then the game was afoot. Off she hustled, carrying the twitching rodent in her beak, being chased by the other hungry, jealous hens, hoping to secure a place to enjoy her prize without competition.

To extract the rest of the mice, Boy and I took turns tipping the grain bin and stomping the mice as they ran out. Boy wasn't really on his "A" game and let more escape alive than I would have liked, but never fear, the hens took care of the runaways, whacking the rodents in the head then carting them off to devour in private.

Each of our hens consumed at least one mouse, several mice got away, and we tossed a few dead ones into the pasture for some other hungry scavenger.

This was not the first time I've witnessed our hens in their omnivorous duties. In fact, once, I found myself giving the Heimlich maneuver to a hen who became distressed after running around for 15 minutes with a rodent body hanging out of her mouth. By trapping her and gently pressing her keel bone against the lower rail of the paddock fence, she inevitably expelled the over-sized mouse in her struggles, which freed her to peck around at the vegetarian delicacies once again. Odd, I know, but farm life just has its oddities.

Just so we're clear, our backyard hens live pampered, cage free, indoor-outdoor lives. They are fed a normal chicken feed ration, plus vegetarian kitchen scraps, and are allowed to forage outside for greens and bugs when weather permits. Our eggs are top quality and delicious, and it is completely impossible to tell what exactly each hen ate before laying her latest egg. So, while it may be a selling point to the Organic Cage Free Egg industry that their "organic hens are fed a 100% organic vegetarian diet," you now know the ugly truth about the sinister nature of chickens.

So, let's review what we've just learned:

1. Not even organically raised chickens are vegetarians
2. No matter what you feed a cage free hen, in the end, she will eat what she wants, including mice
3. If you want to catch a bunch of mice all at once, leave the lid off the grain bin and come back in the morning

Fried chicken is my favorite animal...

I found this joke in my email inbox this morning:

"Our teacher asked us what our favorite animal was, and I said, "Fried chicken." She said I wasn't funny, but she couldn't have been right, because everyone else in the class laughed. My parents told me to always be truthful and honest, and I am. Fried chicken is my favorite animal. I told my dad what happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA. He said they love animals very much. Especially chicken, pork and beef.

Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal's office.I told him what happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.

The next day in class my teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was. I told her it was chicken. She asked me why, just like she'd asked the other children. So I told her it was because you could make them into fried chicken. She sent me back to the principal's office again. He laughed, and told me not to do it again. I don't understand.

My parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn't like it when I am.Today, my teacher asked us to tell her what famous person we admire most. I told her, "Colonel Sanders." Guess where I am now..."

Yes, this is a joke, but let's face it, this kind of indoctrination is rampant in our schools, and is one of the many reasons I homeschool my kids. Somehow, entire generations of kids, now adults have lost an appreciation for where their food comes from...and it's only getting worse. I read an article recently about kids in the UK who thought bacon came from sheep. I can honestly say that my children know, without a doubt, where their food comes from, whether it's meat, veggies, milk or eggs.

We spent all Saturday morning harvesting our meat chickens. It was good family fun where the kids get to see their once cute, fuzzy chicks turn into....well...fried chicken. Sure, there are some aspects that are less than glamourous, but as we watched our kids spend an hour dissecting a chicken heart, it was hard not to recognize the irreplaceable value of real life exploration and discovery, and the long term effect it will have on their world view and awareness. Of course, many people (many more these days) do not share in our view that raising and harvesting your own food is a valuable learning opportunity for children. Most of my husband's family, for instance, live the PETA hypocrisy of swatting flies while they wolf down tofu burgers...

We chatted about these unfortunates as we plucked broilers on Saturday, laughing about friends who refuse to eat anything that didn't come from the grocery store, and what that trend has brought us in the way of food quality and safety. It's a sad state of affairs in this country where food is concerned. And kids get the worst of it. Even my farm-raised kids came rushing in halfway through an episode of Sesame Street last week to say that they desperately needed some vegetables for breakfast because they wanted to be 'healthy'...uh, really?

Folks, there's only One Authority when it comes to our food, as He designed the entire system. For now, I think I'll let His words end this post.

Genesis 1:26-30
26: And God said, "Let us make man in our image after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth."

27: So God created man in his own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created  them.

28: And God blessed them, and God said unto them, "Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth."

29: And God said, "Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for food. And to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and to every thing that creepeth upon the earth, wherein there is life, I have given every green herb for food," and it was so.

30: And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.

Birth and restoration

As you know, the last month and a half have been pretty rough, between losing our chickens, and being told to get rid of our cows. But God is an awesome restorer of peace. Monday, we presented our case for keeping our cows to the Town and by Wednesday, the Town had received so much mail from folks supporting our cause that the Town agreed to begin revising its livestock code. Following our success, it started to rain, and continued to rain for two straight days. Somehow, it seemed to symbolize a fresh start, and it brought with it some new arrivals to our farm.

Little Oreo was born May 11th in the pouring rain to first time momma, Daisy the Hereford. We obtained Daisy from a friend just 4 weeks before receiving the notice from the Town banning livestock. At time of purchase, we agreed for Daisy to stay at her home until she had her calf, as our friend's son was desperate to see her calf born. It was his success showing the cow in 4-H that had earned Daisy the breeding that resulted in Oreo.

Our new heifer is a big girl with a voracious appetite. As with many first moms, it is taking Daisy some time to get used to the concept that a wallop to the udder by a hungry headbutting calf is the universal signal to share her milk, but they're both starting to get the hang of things.

In addition to the cows, we have started to restore the chicken population. Today we added six 9-week-old pullets and five 2-week-old broilers to the flock, bringing our flock total to 15. I still struggle with the pain of losing all of our chicks, and had a twinge of sadness today when I realized that our chicks would have started laying this month if they'd survived. But the excitement of new hens, fresh eggs and meat is beginning to overtake the frustration and grief.

The hubby is on coop reinforcement duty this weekend, though we haven't seen the foxes in several weeks. The fact that the dogs have been sleeping through the night (and letting us do the same) makes us hopeful that the foxes have taken up residence elsewhere, but as we learned the hard way, it's better to be prepared than be caught with our pants down and lose everything.

I'll be in the garden getting the rest of the veggies planted this weekend. On the list are cucumbers, zucchini, pumpkins, tomatoes, peppers and corn. Plus, I'll be replanting the bush beans and beets that failed to make an appearance. Everything else in the garden is doing well. We've already harvested radishes and will be eating bok choy very soon.

Despite the setbacks, things are steadily beginning to get back on track, and we are grateful for the bounty God has in store.

Government that prohibits citizens from growing food condems them to death

I came across this headline today in my internet perusal:

US meat and poultry widely contaminated with bacteria including superbugs 

In the past when I read headlines like these, I praised God for giving us the inclination and ability to raise and eat our own food. But now, we're in a battle with the Town to defend that right.

When we purchased our property 9 years ago, we recognized the value of owning land that could feed us. Our priorities have not changed: we don't have a 4000 square foot house in a fancy subdivision, and we can't take vacations to Maui twice a year because of this life we have chosen. But if our economy collapses or all of the commercially available meat is found to be tainted (see article above), we will be able to feed ourselves and our neighbors with what we painstakingly cultivated on our land. 

This is our right, given by God, not just to Americans but to every person in the world...from camel farmers in outer Mongolia to goat herders in Pakistan.

In a previous post I mentioned that we received a letter from the Town demanding that we remove our cattle from our property. Though our 7.44 acre property has housed livestock since before the Town existed, the current administrators are attempting to enforce a 20 year old municipal zoning code that excludes any animal you can eat from its list of approved "domestic large animals."

After we rejected the Town's first demand to relocate our cattle, the Town suggested that we apply for a Conditional Use Grant in order to keep our cows. At a non-refundable cost of $100, it holds no guarantee of being approved and can not be transferred to anyone who buys our property. For our family, the thought of paying a municipality for permission to feed ourselves runs contrary to everything our nation was founded on, and is simply not an option. So, true to form, we will stand firm.

We live in weird times. There are people who want the government to provide them with everything, and who live from disappointment to disappointment, perpetually irritated that they're not getting what they want or what the neighbors have. Then, at the other end of the spectrum, there are people who defy authority to provide anything for them, and struggle with age-old challenges to provide everything from food to clothing for themselves. And finally, there are people in the middle--most of America--who are completely indifferent...typical consumers trying to do their part, content to remain blissfully unaware of the struggle around them. Government, is equally conflicted, wanting the role of parent and provider for all mankind so intently that it often cuts off its suppliers to prove its sovereignty. This is the drama that's playing out here in my town.

Town government is not a Homeowners Association. Homeowners may voluntarily enter into a contract with an HOA and sign over their property rights to that private organization for whatever security it offers in exchange. But municipalities may not operate in this way; they are beholden to the Constitution and obligated to defend the rights of the people they serve. It seems that we have become so used to people telling us what we can and can't do with our private property that we've forgotten that it is our our property to begin with. If the Town wants to decide how our property should best be used, it can buy it from us.

 

Perhaps this latest hurdle is our chance to stamp out tyranny in our own backyard, or perhaps this is a lesson to us all about what happens when government is permitted to run unchecked on the taxpayer's dime. It's time we all remembered that it's not someone else's job to protect fundamental unalienable rights, it's mine and yours.

Surrounded by predators

I awoke yesterday morning to my hubby's breathless statement: "They're all gone."

"What are all gone?" I asked with my eyes still closed.

"The chickens," he reported, "the foxes got them all."

Fox #2 (left of barn) guarding chickens morning after the raid

I sat bold upright, still foggy from sleep, and tried to comprehend the details..."What does 'gone' mean? Did they escape? Are there remnants? How did he know it was the foxes? Does he mean the big chickens or our little hand raised pullets?"

As he filled me in on his grizzly chicken house discovery, I began to sob. I know we raise our own food, so animal death shouldn't bother me, but discovering that our sustenance has been ripped away from us--our time, our money and our tender loving care--by a predator, that, in town, possesses more rights to survival than we do drove me to anguish.

Perhaps, my response was also enhanced by the events of the two days prior to the devastation.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Monday morning, we were awoken by Ruth's hysterical barks. I had been laying in bed, semi-conscious, listening to her woof for about an hour before her barking escalated to a fever pitch. Assuming she was just doing her job of defending the property from marauding foxes, I laid there considering whether to wake hubby to perform a spotlight inspection of the chickens. But the new intensity to her bark woke both of us. Hubby jumped out of bed and opened the blind, and a split second later, grabbed his Glock and the spotlight and headed for the front door.

The headlights he alarmingly saw on our property belonged to the cops. The investigating officer, seeing our spotlight, reversed & headed to the front door. I heard most of his comments to Hubby: "We received a complaint about your dog barking. This is your only warning; the next call we get will result in a ticket."

Hubby interjected to explain she was only trying to scare off the foxes, but the cop cut him off. "Just keep her quiet or I'll have to cite you."

Hubby put the Glock away and came back to bed, but neither of us slept very well for the next 2 hours before the alarm went off.

The day went on as usual, Hubby at work, the kids and I starting a new homeschool unit. On our way back from taking Hubby lunch, I grabbed the mail to find an unexpected letter from the Town, which went something like this:

It has come to the Town's attention that you currently house cattle on your property, which is a violation of the zoning  restrictions cited here...blah, blah, blah...you are required to remove the cattle by April 29th; please call me to inspect the property on or before that date. Sincerely, the new Chief Planner

Momma Cow, Decalf & Blacky on the property last fall

Lack of sleep and anxiety over the potential of a noise disturbance citation still plaguing my guts, I felt my stomach infused with a new dose of adrenaline. "Lose my cows? Our source of meat for the year? They have no right," I ranted in my mind. "Preventing my family from growing its own food is a direct violation of my divine right to life and liberty! Where's the government established to protect my rights? It's been replaced by town bureaucrats who take pleasure in telling residents what they can and cannot do with their own land..." Let's just say it was all down hill from there.

For the next 3 hours until Hubby got home, I sat down and crafted letter after letter in response to the Town, called the other families I knew in town that graze cattle on their land to find out if the Town had ever threatened them, and tried to work out a "Plan B" in case the Town won and we ultimately had to relocate the cows...where would they go? What would it look like to have to drive somewhere to "visit" our livestock?

When Hubby did get home to hear the news, he reacted as I did: incensed, overwhelmed, saturated with the hostility pouring out of the town we've called home for 9 years. Our property predates the existence of the Town by 20 years. It remains one of the last few intact working farms in the town, and was only annexed prior to us purchasing it for the tax revenue it could generate. Our southern property line is the invisible division between "town" and "county" land, though no discernible difference exists between the use of the two properties.

Despite its history here, ever since we've owned the land, we've had to defend every right that came with it. First it was fencing, then water, then access, and now, which animals we're permitted to graze in our pastures.We've been robbed, threatened, attacked, sued, and threatened some more. And yet, we do not retaliate. We lovingly cultivate the ground, enhance the landscape, groom the pastures, and upgrade the house, living on and nurturing every square inch of this land we call home. Our neighbors' property values soar because of their scenic views across our land, but we are ceaselessly surrounded by hungry predators hoping to devour what is rightfully ours. What a relief it will be when this place finally chooses a new owner to fight for it.

So, Wednesday morning, when I was awoken to the news of catastrophic loss in the chicken house, I was inconsolable. "Why does this place want us to die? We are only trying to mind our own business, feed ourselves, teach our kids good values...but they want us to fail, they want us to cry 'uncle'."

 * * * * * * * *

It seems unfair that wild animals, that we knew had targeted our chickens as their preferred food source, could possess more rights in this town than we do. We simply aren't permitted to defend our food from these predators, the dog can't bark to scare it off, we can't shoot it, and we can't trap it. We just have to lie down and wait for the two foxes to dig under the chain link fence and devour 31 out of our 35 birds. Our entire future of homegrown eggs and meat was gone in one morning.

But, today is another day. The foxes, now labeled "nuisance wildlife", are no longer protected, and the traps are in place awaiting their next attempt. Four chickens remain of our flock: 2 aged leghorn hens and 2 Brahma pullets that were being picked on so badly by the other pullets we had to separate them by locking them in a small wire dog kennel. And today, there was one gleaming white egg in a nesting box...proof that at least one layer is back to business as usual, even without its comrades to keep it company.

Our elected town representatives, who I alerted to the bullying we received over the cow issue, have responded by going to bat for us, so I am cautiously optimistic that we may prevail in that area as well. I am doing my best to remember that all of our trials, losses and triumphs are part of God's divine plan for our lives, and I am grateful that we have a grocery store nearby where I can buy eggs, chicken and beef in a pinch.

Bird dogs and chickens don't mix

Ruth

Our pointer Ruth dreams about birds. She obsesses about every robin, blackbird, sparrow, mourning dove, and goose that flies over or around our property. Pointers tend to be a little OCD anyway, but really good hunting dogs, like Ruth, take the obsession to another level.

The dogs' kennel is about 30 feet from the chicken coop. There wasn't a ton of planning involved with this proximity; it was just how the place laid out. We thought it would be an advantage to have the dogs close enough to deter any chicken predators, but unfortunately, it has transformed Ruth into chicken predator number one.

When we let the chickens out to scratch and peck, the dogs go nuts. When we herd the chickens in for the night, they go even more crazy. When we let the dogs out, Ruth runs as fast as she can the 30 feet to the chicken coop and locks up on point. If the chickens go inside their coop, Ruth runs back and forth until she makes eye contact with one and locks up on point again.

But Ruth isn't the only canine who obsesses about our chickens. We have four foxes living on our property who obsess about them too. We have lost dozens of chickens to the foxes in the last two years, and we are restricted to allowing the chickens out only when we are close enough to watch for the fox. The foxes, in turn have become bolder and bolder, appearing at all hours of the day, even when the kids and I are out playing just 50 feet away.

Because we live within city limits and our town has an ordinance against discharging any type of firearm (including pellet and BB guns) within those limits, we and our chickens are at the mercy of the foxes. Our only recourse is to let the dogs out to chase the fox(es) off the property. So here's what happened last weekend.

Pigeon on point and Ruth honoring

Last Saturday, I went down to the shop to tell the Hubby that lunch was ready. As we headed up to the house, I saw Hubby take off toward the dog kennel, open the door, and run with Ruth straight toward the chicken coop. At the same time, Pigeon, our notorious runaway dog took off across the pasture. I hollered at Pigeon to call him back, but Hubby's yells brought my attention back to the chicken coop, where he was wrestling our Buff Orpington's flailing body out of Ruth's mouth. By the time I'd taken a step toward the coop, Ruth took off around the back of the barn. Seeing Hubby now dealing with the hen and the dog safely away from her, I paused, wondering why that buff hen was out of the coop. No sooner had that thought materialized when I saw Ruth appear from around the barn with a Barred Rock hen in her mouth.

By now, the Hubby was really pissed. He wrestled the other hen out of Ruth's mouth and screamed for me to come get the dog, which I did promptly. Ruth, thinking she was the best bird dog in the world, was completely confused by being drug, unceremoniously away from her birds.

Hubby dispatched the mortally injured hens and eventually came up to the house. He was still too pissed to talk about what happened, so it wasn't until that night that I found out why he apparently sicked the Ruth on our unsuspecting chickens, resulting in the deaths of two of our last seven productive laying hens.

When we were walking out of the shop on our way up to the house for lunch, Hubby spotted the fox trotting down the fenceline toward the chickens. Thinking that all of the chickens were in the coop, despite the fact he'd let them out to range earlier in the day, he ran down and opened the dog kennel to sick the dogs on the fox.

Pigeon dutifully chased the fox across the pasture, and got yelled at for it...I never saw the fox so I had no idea he was doing his job.

Ruth subduing and retrieving a pheasant

Ruth did not chase the fox. In fact, this was the opportunity Ruth had been dreaming about her whole life. She wasn't born and bred to be a fox hunter, but she was born to be a top of the line bird dog. Hubby, seeing that she wasn't heading for the fox in the pasture but rather for the hen who had picked the wrong time to wander out of the coop, tried to intercept Ruth before she got the hen, but alas, it was too late for poor Buffy. I'm not sure if Hubby knew there was another hen behind the barn, but Ruth certainly made short time in discovering it.

And then there were five...mature laying hens, that is. Fortunately, we have 18 pullets growing up to take their places, but I had to buy eggs from the grocery store for the first time in 2 years. As for Ruth, well, how can we get mad at her for doing her job. And the foxes: still at large, still hunting our hens.

As for we humans, we still lack a resource to manage the ever-growing predator threat here in town. And my Hubby has informed me that next time I see him run like mad for no discernible reason, my job is to expect the worst and follow closely so I can lend a hand in a pinch. Never one to follow the crowd, and ever faithful in my Hubby's well-thought-out master plan (which he usually has) this may be a little tricky to perform gracefully, but we'll give it a go.

Lesson learned: If your flock is being stalked by a predator, don't add more canine predators to the mix and think they're going to go for the fox...oh yeah, and bird dogs and chickens don't mix.

Sweet and simple chicken corn chowder

It was a cold, windy, wet spring day yesterday and we all had a craving for some hardy soup. A friend of mine shared this delicious, easy recipe for chicken corn chowder and, though I tweaked it a bit, we all agreed it totally fit the bill. The best part was it allowed me to use the meat from one of our aged laying hens who we culled a few months back. It's no small feat finding a recipe in which you can use the world's toughest chicken meat, but this one minimized the toughness and you'd never know I didn't use a supermarket rotisserie chicken. Here's the recipe, and I'll go over the chicken info in a minute.

1 ½-2  cups cooked chicken, cut into small pieces

½ cup chopped onion
2 cloves garlic minced
3 Tbsp butter
3 chicken bouillon cubes dissolved in 2 cups of water
1 ¼ tsp ground cumin
2 c. half and half
1 can cream style corn
1 can sweet corn, undrained
2 4-oz. cans green chilies, undrained
1 14-oz can diced tomatoes, drained
½ tsp Tabasco sauce (adjust to your personal taste)

In a large soup pot, sauté onion & garlic in butter until onion is translucent. Add chicken and cumin and stir to coat chicken, sauté for 1 minute or until chicken is heated through. Dissolve bouillon cubes in hot water & add to pot with remaining ingredients. Bring to boil and simmer 15 minutes or until it reaches desired thickness. Serve with shredded cheese and chopped cilantro.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It would be simple to make this recipe with your grocery store's rotisserie chicken or any leftover cooked chicken you may have in the fridge. But if you want to incorporate some of your less-than-prime, home-grown meat, here's what I did:

First, I de-boned my chicken. Using a sharp knife, I cut the breasts off the carcass, leaving the wings attached, then I removed the leg-thigh portions. My chicken was skinned, but if yours is not, now's the time to do it. Next I separated the leg from the thigh and sliced along the thigh bone to debone the thigh. For the leg, I just sliced around the tendons at the foot-end of the leg, but you could probably skip that step. I threw everything, including the carcass into a stockpot full of water (enough to cover). I diced one onion and one carrot, sprinkled with a little salt & garlic powder and boiled the whole thing for about 5 hours, occasionally adding boiling water as necessary to maintain water level. 

After 5 hours, I used tongs to remove the chicken pieces and set them aside to cool. I poured the stock through a sieve into a bowl and put it in the fridge. There, the fat will rise and congeal for easy skimming and I will freeze the stock in 2 cup quantities in Ziplock freezer bags until I come across a recipe that calls for it.

Once the chicken was cool, I pulled the remaining chicken off the bones and diced and shredded the meat for use in the chowder. The combination of the long cook time of the chicken, plus being served in this creamy soup made it surprising tender, so this one's definitely a keeper!

Hope you enjoy!

It's Spring!

Spring is...A cloud of dust behind our 7-month-old Angus heifer "De-calf" as she runs ripshot through the pasture after jousting with the fence post.

Spring is...Pink cheeks and smiles on the kids' faces as they dig their bare toes in the sandbox for the first time this year.

Spring is...Curry combs chock-full of fly-away horse hair

Spring is...The ecstatic grunts of muddy, rolling dogs as they emerge from their maiden dip in the freshly-thawed water trough.

Bubbles and sidewalk chalk, robins and bumblebees...could it possibly get better than this?

This week marked the first week of spring, and I'm brimming with excitement and optimism as I've already ticked several "to-do's" off the checklist. The 6-week-old pullets are in the hen house, the garden is tilled and weed fabric rolled out, the spring veggies are in the ground, and the layers of winter chaos in the landscape have been peeled away to reveal the earth bubbling with spring bulbs.

In my home state of California, I never appreciated the true beauty of this restorative season, because how can you know the delight of rebirth if nothing ever really dies? Every winter here in Colorado I mourn the last dangling red leaf on the burning bushes and every spring I boil over with excitement as the brown transforms to green. I know what I have in store: weeding and mowing, harvesting and preserving, the labor and chores of summer all lie ahead, but I'm undaunted, ready to take on the challenge, and excited to see where God's perfect plan moves me.

It's with this same sense of giddy anticipation, excitement and suspense that I launch my new blog. So welcome, enjoy, partake...I can't wait to get to know you.