Baling in the Moonlight

Look at this gorgeous bale of alfalfa:

See the lovely blue flowers in it? Our goats love this hay. We were talking with Robert, our hay guy, the other day. We told him how much we like this year’s hay, and he started talking about how he has to wait out in his field in the moonlight until the dew is perfect before he starts baling. That’s the trick to wonderful hay.

Seriously? That sounds so . . . poetic. Mystical, really. I looked on-line, and indeed, in our area of the Southwest, most people bale between 3:00 and 5:00 in the morning. Because they’re waiting for the dew to be perfect.

Apparently, dew adds moisture to the hay without penetrating the stems (which would cause spoilage). A lot of farmers have equipment that tell them the exact percentage of moisture on the hay (which is lying on the ground, cut and drying, waiting to be baled). They say that 12%-15% moisture is perfect for our rectangular bales. I think Robert doesn’t use that equipment. He sits in the moonlight, communing with the hay until the moon and the dew feel right.

Now, look at this:

This is our chicken yard. When the flood waters evaporated, this is what resulted. These are called mud curls. When I was growing up in Nebraska I often saw mud curls. I never saw any when I lived in Illinois. In Chicago, if there was mud, it just dried back to the state it was in before. Why do we get mud curls here?

Mud curls occur in earth that is made of many very thin layers. The top layer shrinks as it dries, and the next layer beneath it remains the same size. Very large, irregular mud curls occur when the flooding has been in a sunny environment. Small, more regular mud curls emerge in the shade. Who knew?

So, in Chicago, is the ground less thinly stratified? Or does the earth never get as extremely dry as it does here?

Our barn swallows’ eggs have hatched! We’ve been watching the babies open their mouths, waiting for their parents to feed them all week. Jan said that they hatched a few days ago, but we couldn’t really see them over the side of their nest.

When barn swallows hatch, they are pink and featherless, and their mother has to continue to sit on them to keep them warm.

I get that. When I gather eggs from our chickens every day I am amazed at how warm they are. I slide my hand underneath their hot, feathery chests, and roll the eggs out. They are able to keep their eggs a constant 95 degrees.

But, our barn swallow babies now have feathers, and we see their little mouths gaping open, waiting for their parents to drop tiny insects into them.

My favorite story of beings in the bird kingdom feeding their babies comes from the penguins. Normally, the parents eat their food, partially digest it, and then puke it into the mouths of their babies. (Gee, thanks, Mom). When times are rough, though, and food is scarce near their nests, the male King Penguins can swim out to where food is more plentiful - sometimes a three day swim away - swallow some fish whole, and then turn their stomachs into refrigerators to preserve the food, undigested, until they can get back to their babies. King Penguins are unique on this planet for their ability to turn off their digestion.

And in goat news, we moved the babies who were still in with their mothers to the back pen this week. We had seven babies left - out of our original ten. Leroy and Roger had already moved to the pygmy goat pen, and Puddle went to Oklahoma with Rain and Delta. We moved the babies to their new digs along with Molly, who really likes them, and has been sort of a nanny to them all along.

The back pen can be split into two separate pens by closing a gate in the middle - both sides of the pen are still roomy. Eventually, after all the goats have gotten to know each other through the fence, we’ll re-open that center gate and let them all frolic together.

It was really interesting, when we moved Roger and Leroy out of the pen where we had all the babies, they cried in their new pen until their voices gave out. It was awful. They cried for a couple of days. But, this week, when we moved the rest of the babies, there were no tears. Not a single goat seemed upset about the move. Not the babies, not the mamas.

Well, Mothra was a little upset that no one was drinking her milk any more. The first morning after we moved the goats, her udder was so full that she waddled as she walked. Before we moved the babies we were getting between six and seven pounds of milk per day from Mothra and Lulou. After we moved the babies we got nearly ten. And, “a pint’s a pound the world around”. (My brother says that - and it’s true). So, we were getting between a half gallon and a gallon before, and now we’re getting about a gallon and a half. That means that Lydia, Millie, and Mollie were drinking a pint of milk per day each. That's a lot when you only weigh 30 pounds!

The best thing about moving the babies to the back pen is the little climbing fort they have. The babies adore it. I love watching them on it. In this photo, Polly is standing on top, Molly is sitting down on the left, and Polly’s sisters, Pippa and Petra are the other two goats. Delightful!