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Olga

There is a fire crackling away in the wood stove this morning, a warm cup of coffee in my hands and load of laundry drying in the dryer.  The roosters are crowing at the sounds of the dogs making their morning rounds to protect the property and the outdoor cats have gathered on the front porch in front of the windows, pressing their noses against the glass, watching to make sure we don’t forget to feed them.  These are the early morning activities around here.  It is a quiet life, nothing noteworthy to most, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

We are still waiting on calves.  I’ve heard rumor of a storm coming through this week and that’s more than likely what they are waiting for.  Thankfully, these Highlands are extremely hardy.  It was fun this week to get a message from a large ranch owner in Colorado who owns a very large fold of Highlands.  We are so used to a bunch of cows being called a herd, but the term for a bunch (or a few) of Highlands is called a fold.  Why?  I haven’t a clue.  Maybe I need to look that up.  Anyway, having Highlands, we have made some of the neatest friends from areas we never expected to hear from.  For instance, I wrote a piece on the calf that was attacked last year.  I later received an email from the head of the New Zealand Highland group requesting permission to print it in their New Zealand newsletter.  New Zealand?  This internet sure makes a big world very small.  Pictures of our little calf and all the methods we used to heal it were printed in full color for the whole country of New Zealand to see.  Well, the Highland owners of New Zealand to see.  It was a bit of a strange feeling, but that lady and I stay in contact weekly and exchange news and pictures of family and cows.

New news on the homestead, we’re fixing to set a whole other incubator.  I can’t wait for these to hatch, they will include the itty bitty Serama eggs.  Maybe I mentioned this before, but we were blessed with a few of the very tiny little Seramas that weigh in full grown under a pound.  Seramas are tiny chickens.  Actual chickens under a pound.  They are the sweetest birds, well at least the hens are.  The roosters aren’t mean, but they will stomp around and do a little dance when you try to mess with their hens.  It is really a funny sight.  If you get a chance, look them up online.  I will warn you, you can’t have just one.  They are addicting.

We learned how to candle the eggs and each one we candled had a chick growing in it.  It never occurred to me before now that the egg is perfectly formed to produce a chick when fertilized.  You know when you crack an egg open into your skillet, there is a white spot on the yolk?  If there is a “bullseye” on that spot, the egg has been fertilized.  If you don’t crack that fertilized egg open and you put it in an incubator or leave it under a broody hen, that little spot with the bullseye will proceed to grow into a chick.  Now when you incubate an egg, and use the racks, the egg gets placed with the large end up.  This allows the air sac to situate itself at the top.  After several days, you can candle the egg and hopefully see a chick growing.  Interestingly enough, that chick, which started from that bullseye spot, will be located directly beneath the air sac.  Now how do you think that yolk knows to turn upright for that chick to form right next to the air sac?  This spring, when we have broody hens on the nests, I’m going to candle those eggs to see how they are forming to satisfy my curiosity.  Consider it my little farming science project to again see how great our God is.  Or did the yolk evolve from a pool of primordial soup to know how to do that?  It would take a great deal more faith to believe it evolved to do that than to believe in our divine Creator.  Hard to believe everyone complaining about separation of church and state, but yet most schools are teaching the future generations the religion of evolution.

Well that’s my two cents worth, have a blessed week!

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