Fibersheds

I want one!

Thanks to Sheep Dreams for this link today. I am so inspired by this woman's vision. Kirsten Dirksen has committed to wearing clothes that come from fiber, dyes, mills, and artisans sourced within 150 miles of her home. She has mapped out her own fibershed in the SFBay area. The simultaneous publication of this article in the NYTimes today does make my head hurt just a little though. The cashmere for his $2000 sweaters comes from Afghanistan. Oy. 

Where do we sign up? 

(Edited to add: We sign up here apparently!)

Jungle chickens

I've read that domestic chickens are descended from a ground-dwelling, jungle bird of Indonesia. It seems my flock has not fallen far from their ancestral tree. After their original outdoor tarp shelter succumbed to snow, I replaced it with another, that quickly succumbed to rain. Recognizing a bad idea when I execute one (cough...twice...cough), I gave up on the tarp shelter idea. It kept the sun off nicely in the middle of the summer. It could not, however, keep anything else off. So, I took some advice from mother nature and gave the chickens their very own jungle tree for outdoor shelter. I didn't actually plant a new 40 foot fir tree just for them. Instead, I extended their yard to include a tree they previously could only yearn for. It's not really a jungle either, but how do they know? They prefer it over anything else and can be found roosting in the branches, sleeping in the needles, or just poking around its base all day long. Here they are enjoying their heritage.

Sierra, hoping for a treat I suppose.

Can you count the chickens in this picture?

Do you see the pine cone camouflaged chicken in this picture?

The Thyme Log

So what do sane, reasonable people do when faced with the steep and slippery slope of a new learning curve? They double their load of course. 

F stands for feeble-minded

So, if it isn't obvious, I'll just say it now.

I'm new to this blogging thing.

I love to read other people's blogs. Like this and this. And especially this.

They make it look so easy.

Relaxing

The warm weather has been lovely for everybody. I opened up all the barn doors to let in fresh air and light. This is what I found later when I walked into the barn. Tyche and her mom snoozing together in their stall.

Tyche is the fuzzy one in front. Though she looks ordinary-size here, it's just the angle. She is maayybe 36 inches in heels. Then again, she's not yet two. Her mom soars all the way to 11 or 12 hands. We're not sure how old mom is. Maybe four. Their origins are murky. They were on their way to Mexico with a broker, when I got roped brought them home. Mom is a project in herself, but that's a story for another day. BomBom, the little pinto, (who is eating dry hay again) came with them. A brother maybe? Possibly Tyche's dad. (Gelded now, in any case...)

Sweet ponies.

Bom Bom

This is BomBom.

A day or two ago, he stopped eating his hay.

I think he may have broken a tooth.

The first clue should have been the blood on one of his hind legs Saturday. I checked the leg out and couldn't figure out where the blood came from. The leg seemed fine.

Meanwhile, he's leaving all his hay on the ground, but acting hungry and gobbling up his handful of grain.

This morning there was a smear of blood on his front leg. Not a lot of blood, just a smear. Ah ha. He must have scratched an itchy leg with his teeth and left the blood behind.

I'm trying to figure out what the options are. He hasn't let me get a good look in his mouth yet. I may have to call the vet back out. This is the same pony who gashed himself on a sharp fence corner last month. Oy. Ponies.

The most immediate goal is to get some hay in him.  I put a half a flake in a pan to soak this morning.

At lunchtime he said,

"Finally."

Sucked down the soggy hay.

Stamped and pawed the pan.

"Now give me more."

Poor little guy was so hungry. Gotta fix his teeth.