We think we had a hawk attack yesterday. When Joan got home from work she found a clump of guinea feathers still attached to a finger-sized chunk of guinea flesh on the coop floor. It was easy to figure out which guinea the feathers belonged to. As Joan said, it's the one that looks like she is missing something in back. You can't really see the wound because her wing feathers cover it, but it does look like she is missing a section of feathers and there is a small set of feathers on her back that jiggle a little like fringe when she walks. There were also enough red chicken feathers scattered on the coop floor to make her wonder if we were missing a chicken.
I'll give you some background on how we came to maybe have a hawk invade the chicken coop. About a week or two ago we decided to start letting the birds free-range during the day when we are at work. We keep the gate at the driveway closed, except for that one morning when we left it open accidentally and a neighbor called to let us know the ducks and guineas were out in the road before either of us had left for work. With a little encouragement, they all came back in yard, and the gate was closed. Mostly they seem happy to wander our property and stay close to home.
For the last few days, though, we've only been getting one or two eggs from six laying hens, and we started wondering if they are laying somewhere outside the coop and hiding the eggs from us. We've had that happen before with an earlier flock. So yesterday morning we decided to leave them in the coop again and see what happens. As we have in the past, we left an outside run open that is partially covered by a web of twine that Joan put together and under tree cover. We have left them that way during the day many times before without problems. They seemed to be under enough protective cover to be left alone. My biggest concern was that there were too many birds to exist happily in such a small space, and, when Joan sent me a text about the feathers I assumed the guineas and chickens had it out with each other. There is occasional animosity between the two species, even though they co-exist peacefully most of the time.
The other clue to the mystery, however, was that the birds had somehow managed to push open one side of the outdoor run and many of them were free-ranging when Joan got home. The walls of the run are eight foot by eight foot frames of 2X2 boards, not heavy, but bulky. We have a thick wire that we use to secure the walls to each other, but I hadn't made sure that was in place.
So we think that what might have happened is that a hawk landed on a tree limb close enough to the run to realize there was an opening he could get through, and he swooped down for lunch. He got a handle on a guinea, but she got away. We've decided that the younger roosters in the group must have teamed up with the guineas (a rugged breed) to run the hawk out; and maybe it was the hawk that pushed the wall out. Who knows. But he didn't get the guinea or a chicken. We still have twelve red chickens, six laying hens, five black ducks and six guineas, with only one injury.
Last night when the everyone bedded down, Joan brought the wounded guinea inside the porch, and we put ointment on it's ugly, red patch of torn skin (the wound is fairly large, about an inch wide and an inch and a half to two inches long - ouch!) to help healing and try to keep her from getting maggots. She slept back in the coop with her buddies.
This morning she is running around with her flock seemingly doing fine. The thing about all of these birds is that they pretend to be fine even when they are sick or injured to discourage predators. But the thing about guineas is that they are a feisty, hardy breed, and we think she might be okay. It turns out the birds are safer free-ranging when they have the room to avoid predators and the bushes and trees under which to hide from them. And maybe the hens are just having an off week of laying. We still only got one egg yesterday, but who can lay with all that racket going on? Today everyone is happily roaming our small farm again. We are giving the hens the benefit of doubt and hoping the egg count will pick up soon.

Goats!

I can't believe we've only had the goats for two weeks, okay, two and a half weeks. They are such a big part of my life! You could say, they control my life. Every morning my alarm clock goes off at 6:30, every morning except when I have to get up earlier. I feed the dogs and let them out. Then I put together my milking supplies and walk up the short hill to the goat pen. Dena (10 weeks old now) and Spike (8 weeks old) get a little grain while I milk Daisy. After milking Daisy I pour most of the milk into a water bottle and attach a nipple to feed Spike. I was not able to convince Dena to take a bottle when we brought them home so she was weaned  at 8 weeks. I'll give Spike a little longer before all the milk is all mine. Right now we mostly use our share of the milk instead of grocery store milk, in coffee and to drink. But I've made yogurt from Daisy's milk that is great with fruit and granola for breakfast. The milk is really good, as is the yogurt!

I've gotten much better at milking. Daisy is a small goat, a mini-Nubian, and has very small teats. I started off using a hand-operated suction milker. It was the only way I could get enough milk to feed Spike. But I practiced hand milking each time until I finally got to the point that I felt like I was more efficient than the milker. Well, maybe not more efficient, but I think Daisy and I are both happier with hand milking. Though I wouldn't say Daisy is exactly happy to be milked. She gets bored as soon as she is finished eating her grain and will periodically dance around a bit. She starts out leaning into me. At first I thought it was like a hug, the way a big dog will sit beside you and lean against you gently. But Daisy isn't leaning gently. She's pushing against me as if to say "get the hell off the milk stand; there isn't room for both of us!" When I refuse to move, she starts moving away from me, sliding her back side against the wall on the other side of the stand. No problem. That gives me more room to sit comfortably on the stand.

Here is a good place to mention that one of the reasons we got the goats so soon was to get rid of the poison ivy on the property, which is rampant. I've suggested naming the place Poison Ivy Acres. Joan doesn't think that would be a good marketing tactic if we ever decide to sell our produce. But that means that all day the goats are tromping around in poison ivy while they eat it. And I have to say, it is amazing how much progress they've made, but there is so much more. So if you want to pet the goats; and it's hard to look at Spike, especially, and not want to pet him or hold him and snuggle up to him; you are engaging with urushiol, the oil on poison ivy that causes skin irritation or inflammation.  So part of milking preparation includes wearing a long sleeve shirt and long pants to cover as much skin as possible. Joan and I are both recovering from rashes that happened before we started being quite so careful. But I have to say, the goats are worth it. As long as you wash any skin they have come in contact with right away with cold water and soap you will be fine.

When I started milking, I used the top pot of a Le Creuset double boiler instead of a bucket. It's a good size and has handles on the sides. I milk with my right hand and hold onto the pot with my left hand so I can pull it away from her legs when she starts dancing. That makes it less likely that she will kick it over or step in it. Who ever said "there's no use crying over spilt milk" must have been milking an animal that kicked over a half full pail (or more). It's not so much the loss of the milk, though that is very sad, as the loss of the time and energy put into getting that milk into the pail. And I wonder if the idiom "kicked the bucket" came about when a farmer came back to the house from milking and said "well, Bessie kicked the bucket again; want to help me fillet her?" I'm learning to be quick pulling the milk pan away from her, and I'm gaining the patience to wait for her to stand still so I can go back to milking. I've switched to milking into a Pyrex quart-size measuring pitcher. It also has a handle with the added advantage of a pour spout. One of the best ways to keep as much of the milk as possible is to stop periodically and pour it into a bottle or jar with a lid. The second time I came back to the house complaining of loosing milk because it was kicked over or stepped in, Joan asked "do we need to put up a WPA sign next to the milking stand that says 'Empty Often'?"

I get about 2 cups each time milking Daisy. About a cup and a half of that goes to Spike. He is a very energetic feeder. I sit on a four by four board that we've left up there for them to play on and hold the bottle up so he can lift his head to imitate suckling from his mother's teat. Sometimes he props himself on my bent knee with his front legs folded so that his knees rest on my knee and this is just too damn cute. He sucks away vigorously on the red nipple attached to an Aquafina water bottle, with drops occasionally running down his chin. He does not stop sucking until the bottle is empty, but as soon as it is he disengages and runs for the extra grain I've given Dena. Quite a little piglet, he is.

Every evening at 7 pm we repeat the process. If I am working too late to get home in time to milk, or have to be at work too early, Joan does the milking. But she seems to be much more sensitive to the poison ivy than I am, so she doesn't milk often, and she's gotten a Tyvek suit to wear when she does.

Joan's biggest role with the goats so far has been as their builder, especially building them a stupendous playground: a teeter totter, a balance beam and a multi-level climbing set-up.  They play king of the hill on the balance beam and use their heads to try to push each other off. As you can see, they've been on it a few times. Spike was climbing on the jungle gym before she even finished assembling it.