- Animals, Bees, Chickens, Health, Natural cleaners, Other Insects, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Pets, Quail, Worms
DE for Birds, and More About Chickens
I’ve written about using Food Grade Diatomaceous Earth around plants to keep down ants and other sectioned insects. It is also used around the feet of my bee hives; as long as it isn’t where bees and other beneficials go it won’t hurt them because it has to be on the bug to work. I’ve also used FGDE around my cat’s bedding to kill hatching flea eggs, and have rubbed it into their fur. It is scentless, edible (will help kill interior parasites when eaten), tasteless, and the food grade is so fine that it won’t hurt your lungs if you breathe it in, although if you have lung conditions you should wear a mask. More about FGDE in a minute.
Some of our laying hens have difficulty laying eggs recently. Chickpea we found panting on the ground in a wet spot, with ants on her. She had a soft-shelled egg break inside of her.
Madge, our partially blind RIR passed a soft shelled egg, then was ill for a day when she passed a broken shell. Warm Epsom salts baths and time spent in the house cage with a heating pad helped both of them. Because of the threat of infection I used some of the Cephalexin left over from our dog (divided into small doses) on both of them and they recovered. My daughter finally deduced that in the mornings when the pullets and hens were released the big girls ran over to eat the chick mash. It probably tastes better than the lay pellets, and more importantly in their little brains it kept the pullets from eating it. Even with the supplemental oyster shell the big girls were probably not getting the calcium and other nutrition their bodies needed to make good eggs. It was time to switch the small girls to lay mash anyway, so I did and yesterday we had all four of our laying hens lay eggs… first time in a long time!
While we were bathing Madge in the sink for her illness, my daughter noticed mites on her. Now a few mites are usual on everyone and everything. When you can see several on the skin when you blow on the feathers, then you have a problem. She wasn’t having a problem, but at that time we still didn’t know what was wrong with her. After she was better we instituted FGDE Day in the Fowl Fortress.
You can buy pricey powder dispensers, which usually clog. I bought a set of mustard and ketchup dispensers for less than two dollars and they work just fine. We caught all the hens and our three quail and puffed FGDE into their feathers and, of course, all over ourselves.
I puffed it into the nesting boxes, and into the ‘attic’ of the pullet house where they roost, and into the straw in the coops. Since we don’t have a problem we don’t need to treat often, just every few months or so. Any that they eat helps with any internal parasites as well. We also had some wood ash left over from making pizzas in Harry Mud the cob oven and sprinkled them where the birds take dust baths. That fine ash helps to keep their feathers clean and keep away mites too.
Very little went a long way, so even after treating all the hens and the Fowl Fortress, the cat bedding repeatedly, several cats, the feet of the bee hives, a variety of plants, and the feet of the food tables I’d set up for a garden party to protect from ants, along my window sills and around the privy where ants were getting in, I’m still working on the first bag that I bought on Amazon.com.
When you compare with buying expensive different poisons for all of these problems, the health hazards and impact on non-target species including ourselves, and the negative impact on the Earth, one bag of FGDE is such a deal that you really can’t not try it.
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Release of the Pullets, and No More House Chicken
It was time. The little chicks were half-grown and beginning to eat scratch and pelleted chicken food along with their chick starter. They had finally figured out how to go upstairs at nighttime although it took several tries where I had to pick them out of their chick pile and shove them through the upstairs egg window. A couple of times when I’d let the big girls out into the garden, I had let the little girls out into the Fowl Fortress. They had run around stretching their wings and barreling into one another. So it was time for them to join the big girls as one large flock.
And then there was Viola, the house chicken. She’d been a house chicken for over half a year, enjoying her special front yard paradise, coming when called, stealing some dog and cat food, caging herself at night, and crooning away whenever I sneezed or made noise while she slept. I really loved to have my house chicken. However she was alone a lot. She protested her aloneness by shrieking horribly for long periods of time. She could shriek with both exhaled and inhaled breath so that the noise didn’t stop. Even when at the end of my rope I yelled at her to shut up, she shrieked. She was becoming a spoiled and lonesome chicken. Her leg, the reason for her separation from the flock, was doing well again. I thought that if there was ever a good time to reintroduce her it would be at the same time that I let loose the little girls. There would be less hostility against Viola when the hens reinforced their pecking order. It was a very hard decision to make, but I thought it was for the best. I left the cage up in the house, though, just in case.
Last week I gave Viola a surprise and brought her down to the coop when I let the hens out of their chicken tractor. Viola wasn’t happy about it. Immediately Madge, the one-eyed Rhode Island Red who had been caged with Viola at the feed store when both had been seriously pecked, who had been her only friend for a year with my other girls, decided to punish Viola for her absence and make sure she knew she was at the bottom of the pecking order. She didn’t just give Viola – who is smaller – a peck, she tried to remove feathers. She jumped her and chased her. I had to get between the two of them. Pushing the vicious Blind Pirate Madge away just made her more intense, so I tried picking her up and giving her attention.
That worked better. Still, Viola had to hide. With Viola between my legs for protection I released the little girls.
The big hens… pretty much ignored them. The little girls were so happy to be free. I kept their food inside their coop and propped the door so that only the smaller birds could get in there, but the big girls managed to shoulder themselves in anyway.
Lark, the Barred Rock who has been barren since she survived egg binding and who has been enjoying her work-free status has developed some kind of uncomfortable swelling. At first I thought she was just fat, but her tummy swelled like a balloon over several weeks. She lost her feathers on her red rump.
It became awkward for her to walk so I gave her a couple of Epsom salt baths in the kitchen sink, and she became a house guest for a couple of days. She wasn’t as pleasant as Viola, but enjoyed the new experience. I returned her to the coop, and just today the swelling seems much less, thank goodness. The whole illness has not, however, affected her appetite.
Belle, the crossbill Americauna, had such difficulty eating that she is smaller than the rest and seemed to always be famished.
I finally found a small, deep tupperware container that I could wedge between a piece of wood and the side of her coop where it wouldn’t tip over easily, and filled it with chick starter and water mash. Belle was eating heartily for the first time since her bill began to cross and for once she had time to spend goofing around with a full tummy. And a messy face and breast. Since I’d tried trimming her beak, and since I make the magic mash for her now, she has become not only an energetic chicken but a devotee of me. While the other ingrates run away as if I were an axe murderer rather than the vegetarian that I am, Belle flies onto me at any chance. With Viola between my ankles and Belle running up my back I feel very much a part of the flock.
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Chick’s New Home
I know, I know, another chicken post. This should be the last one for awhile and I’ll get back to plants and chocolate desserts. Today I moved the 6-week-old chicks from out of the bathtub to their new quarters. They are living in a coop within the Fowl Fortress.
The coop had been occupied by Saki, a coturnix quail that ended up being male and thus having to be separate from the other two who were female. Males are extremely aggressive and usually have a harem of at least six. I don’t eat fertile eggs, nor want to hatch more quail so he was separate. He also managed to injure his wing a month ago, then a week ago escape the Fowl Fortress and unfortunately get himself killed. I miss his warbling, frantic call for his ladies. The coop had also apparently been occupied by mice and rats, as I found out when I cleaned out the top nesting portion. The rodents would only use it during the night and disappear like fairies by day, leaving lots of un-fairy-like poo all over the place. I cleaned it out on top while the big girls helped kick out all the old nesting material from the inside.
The girls (and I certainly hope they are!) were so much larger than the last time I carried them outside to the porch that I could only fit three into the banker’s box and had to put another one upside down on top to keep them there for transportation down the hill. I thought I’d put them into the top portion so they’d get familiar with it, then make their way down the ramp to the bottom.
For over an hour all I heard was rustling, tiny little rushed footsteps and an occasional mini-squawk. I tried to entice them down, but for a long time there were no takers. Finally two came down, and one went up again, then another came down and went up again. About an hour later I looked in and they were all down enjoying the afternoon sun and wondering where the plumbing was (they lived in a bathtub… get it??? 🙂 ).
However after sundown when all the big girls went into their coop, the little girls crowded around in the corner looking bewildered. I had to crawl in there, catch them and shove them back up the escape hole into the roosting area.
Kids. Sigh.
Now I need get the offer of cleaning services and clean the bathroom and the entire mostly empty bedroom which is coated with a thin film of chick dust.
But not tonight.
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Viola the House Chicken
When I tell people that I have a house chicken they look at me funny. Then I launch into the explanation and sometimes afterwards they say, “I want a house chicken!” Or sometimes they just smile gently and pretend they recognize someone else with whom they’d like to speak.
Right now I not only have a house chicken, but I have a bathtub full of chickens. These are the chicks at the six-week stage, and are just about ready to put out in the Fowl Fortress. They are exercising their wings, especially Esther one of the buff orpingtons, which comes to kamikazi-ish flights into the other chicks and scattering them like bowling pins. I can be excused bathtub chickens because, after all, they are temporary. And so, I thought, was my house chicken.
The way Viola became a house chicken though will make much sense to you and warm the cockles of your heart.
Viola and Madge were two one-year-old Rhode Island Reds who were raised en masse at a feed store. Although the hens had had their beaks trimmed (poor dears) these two had been severely pecked. Madge is blind in one eye and Viola had a gimpy leg (and, I have come to believe, some psychological damage from the bullying). These two hens have been the sweetest girls, unlike the other hens who were coddled from day #2 and act like complete spoiled brats.
One day last Fall I went to put the chickens away and noticed that Viola was holding one leg up high and not able to put any pressure onto it. Uh-oh, I thought. I felt it all over but couldn’t tell if anything was broken. I set up a cage by the kitchen table with a heat lamp and heating pad, and hoped for the best. I spoke with the vet and researched online and everyone (all poultry-eaters, I’m sure!) said that she’d have to be put down. The leg was probably broken. She was probably in pain and showing a brave face… or beak. Well, I considered having her put down, but she didn’t appear to me to be in tremendous pain. She acted as if she’d pulled a muscle. She ate well, and after a night on the heating pad laid a very nice egg. So I kept her in. After a few days she began to use the leg a little. She certainly ate well. I took her outside into the front fenced area, formerly home to Homer the Desert Tortoise who had escaped the year before. This area has a small pond and all the bird feeders where we watch and count birds for Cornell’s Project Feederwatch. Pretty much a chicken heaven, except for the loneliness. Having been hen-pecked, she didn’t seem to mind so much.
Viola improved and we developed a routine. In the morning I’d let her out and sprinkle some food for her outside. She’d wander and sun herself and roll in the dirt and eat bird seed, and lay an egg in Homer’s old house.
At dusk she either would tap incessantly at the sliding door to come in, or I’d go out and call, “Vi – o- laaaa,” and she’d run around the corner of the house, up the stairs and inside, making a brief stop to check out Sophie-the-dog’s dinner, then she very nicely cage herself. I’d cover her with a blanket so she could sleep while the light was on. The cats ignored her and Sophie “peace and love in her old age” -the-dog was actually a little intimidated by her. Perhaps she thought Viola was the ghost of chickens past.
Did I say run? Yes, her leg improved greatly, from a painful hop to a piratey roll. Then I made the mistake of speaking on the phone about her within her hearing. I gave a progress report on how well she was doing, and said that I’d try to reintroduce her to the flock again the next day or so. By the next day, however, Viola suddenly had a very sore leg again. She hobbled painfully around. I couldn’t reintroduce her because the other girls wouldn’t be very nice to her. So I nursed her again. She improved. During the Christmas holidays once more I spoke about reintroducing her, and by the next day she was limping badly again. Guess what? Viola got to stay inside for Christmas.
This healing/reinjury happened yet a third time, and yes I had mentioned bringing her to the coop, so by then I was pretty sure she was either a very good chicken actress, or she was injuring herself to maintain her improved way of life.
The best part of having a chicken in the house I find is at night. While I’m up writing or paying bills and she’s caged, suddenly I’ll hear a sound as if a bomb is falling from a great height just outside the house. It is a high pitched whistle that descends in pitch gradually, but instead of hearing an explosion at the end there is a little soft “brrrup.” The first time I heard it the sliding doors were open and I thought that Camp Pendleton (whose artillery practice shakes the house) had dropped a missle overhead.
When I sneeze or make a loud noise I always hear a comment from the cage. She’ll often croon to herself, too. Viola enjoys music and will sit contentedly both when I’m playing CDs or even when I’m practicing my beginning piano chords on the keyboard. I’m sure she considers herself a songbird because she makes horrible noises of protest when she wants attention.
At first I had placed a metal food dish and a flat water dish into her cage. She soon learned that if she stepped on the edge of the metal dish it would clank. She became very good at clanking over and over and over again with her big foot when she wanted out. She’d also manage to spill her water so I’d have to let her out to clean. She’d take the opportunity to run into the other room and check out the cat’s food dishes. Now I just put some feed right on her newspaper, and my daughter cleverly tied open the side door just enough so that Viola can get her head out to drink from a water dish placed outside the cage.
A friend who knows birds suggested that Viola had bumblefoot, a painful swelling of the pad of her foot. She kindly gave me a week’s worth of antibiotic for Viola in pill form, and I learned a new skill. Or not. By the end of the week Viola and I had developed a whole new relationship which had us eyeing each other warily. There was no change in her condition other than she wouldn’t let me anywhere near her beak without a tussle. Yet again she’s walking very well.
I’m not the only one with a house chicken. Social media is a wonderful method of exposing slightly affected people. There are photos of perfectly respectable people – grandparents even – Skyping with a chicken on their laps. There are even businesses who sell products for chickens such as chicken diapers. Yep. Chickendiaper.com, in fact. I didn’t enjoy the diapering part of raising my children so much that I want to reenact it with a chicken, thank you.
So here it is the middle of Spring, and Viola’s leg is doing wonderfully. She barely limps. Perhaps I can reintroduce her to the flock at the same time I introduce the chicks. I’m writing this while Viola is rustling about in her covered cage, facing the back of my laptop and unable to read what I’m writing. I just wonder if tomorrow she’ll be limping badly again.
- Animals, Chickens, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Pets, Quail, Seeds, Vegetables
Updates on Crate Potatoes, Nursery Plants and Chicks
Spring has brought its fervor of growth, of veggies, babies and weeds. Between my bouts of sneezing from pollen (great thing for a gardener to have!), and while the day is very warm outside, I thought I’d update you on how things are going.
A couple of weeks ago I posted about growing potatoes in milk crates. Success so far. The potatoes are growing quickly and coming through the second layer of crates.
I need to backfill with more compost. The potatoes planted in the raised beds have been hilled up as much as the sides will allow. If I am ambitious, I may find some long pieces of cardboard to raise the sides higher, and fill some more.
Potato greed!
My nursery bed is mostly ready for transplant out into the larger garden.
I need more berry baskets to help keep them safe, and I need to build support systems right away for tomatoes and other crops I want to keep off the ground.
The chicks are about a month old. They’ve been living in the downstairs bathtub with heat lamps. There are only seven chicks now. We purchased the eleven on a Wednesday afternoon. By the next evening four were ill. All four died during the night, even after my daughter and I kept them warm and full of antibiotic/vitamin water. We don’t know what happened to them, but at least it wasn’t something that took the whole flock. There are always casualties with day-old chicks. They are shipped in the mail straight out of the egg, with a variety of temperatures, food and terrors. When purchasing a large amount of chicks straight from the hatchery, you’ll often receive extra chicks to ‘make up’ for those that perish. Our chicks that died were both light Brahmas, Annabelle Lee and Daisy, Ruby, one of the Rhode Island Reds, and Hermionie, one of the Americaunas. The rest are growing just fine, although I noticed today that Belle, the remaining Americauna had come to some injury within the last week.
Her lower beak is crooked and jutted forward, doubtless an injury caused by flinging herself around in the bathtub with the rest of the girls. She is eating well and seems to be aggressive, and there wasn’t anything I could do to the beak with my fingers through massage or gentle manipulation, so I think she’ll have to see it through. UPDATE: my daughter says that she might have ‘crossbill’, which is a genetic condition that gradually shows up. Not much to do about it; some hens thrive and some can’t.
There is always the chance that some of the remaining seven, especially the straight-run cochins, are males, and they will have to find other homes. I’m really hoping for all hens.
Today I not only took the girls out of the bathtub for the first time on a field trip to the warm and safe back porch, but also introduced them to Viola the House Chicken.
Viola stays in the front yard all day alone, and then comes into the house to her cage at night. She’ll lay in the dog house on the porch where Homer, our lost desert tortoise used to sleep. The chicks are flighty, both in personality and in how they are trying to exercise their wings by sudden wild bursts of flapping that take them off their feet: a surprise to all including themselves. They discovered sunshine, leaf bits, perching,
and that Viola was absolutely afraid of them. Viola did all she could to get back into the house through the screen while complaining horribly.
I realized that she needed to lay and the chicks were blocking her entrance to the doghouse. I let her in and barricaded the pathway and she settled in whirring grumpily to herself.
Just now I heard her complaining at the top of her lungs to find that the chicks had visited her, and one bold one in particular, aptly named Bodacea, was standing next to her either inquisitively or in horror. I seperated them and they all calmed down.
The nights are still cool and I still have a rat problem in the Fowl Fortress (I’ve been installing a couple of my cats in there overnight to help discourage the looting) so I’m waiting until maybe next week to introduce the girls to the rest of the flock. I’ll oust the Saki the male quail and let the girls take over his house. Its all so complicated!
- Animals, Bees, Chickens, Gardening adventures, Other Insects, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Quail, Seeds, Soil, Vegetables
Protecting the Little Guys… and a little about diatomaceous earth
When transplanting little plants out into the big garden it feels like sending your child off to their first day at Kindergarten. All kinds of things can happen to them in the big world. For children… that’s too large a topic for me (Kindergarten mother survivor here). For plants I can give you some advice.
Besides watering too much or too little, and root disturbance while transplanting, little guys can be eaten by bugs, birds or other animals, or simply get lost and overlooked. (Here is a container growing tip: as your seedlings sprout and grow, gently pass your hand across them every time you are with them. It will make for stronger stems.) (And its fun!)(And you can pretend you’re ruffling their hair and say things like, “Hi, Sonny.” Or not.)
A day before transplanting out of a container or from a nursery bed, water the sprouts well. If they’ve been in containers for awhile those roots may be going in circles and the water can’t penetrate from the top very well. If that is the case, put the pots in water for half an hour until moisture is wicked into the pot thoroughly, then allow to drain. I say to do this the day before because if you water just before planting the soil around your root ball will fall apart, breaking fine hair roots and shocking your poor little guy. Some plants hate their roots being touched so much that this would kill them. By the next day after watering the container will still be moist, but the soil should be solid enough to stick together when tipped out.
Dig a hole twice as wide and twice as deep as your plant, then backfill with a mixture of good compost and the soil from the hole. This will help acclimate the roots to the soil change. Water the hole, and if you’re really industrious water with compost tea. Set your plant into the hole and firmly press the soil around the plant. If you are planting tomatoes, eggplant or peppers (all in the same family) you can set the plant more deeply into the hole; they will form more roots from the stems and become sturdier. The rule of thumb otherwise is to plant so that the soil level of the hole is the same as that of the transplant; many plants will rot if soil is up against their stem. If it is too low, the roots will be exposed and dry out. Potatoes can be trenches and hilled up as they grow, or maybe you will try trashcan or crate potatoes. If you live in an arid area, plant in shallows so that rain can accumulate around the plant. If you live in a wet area, plant on hills so water can drain off. Or if you’re practicing permaculture, plant on the swales!
So your little guy is in the ground and gently tamped in. To keep off the birds and bunnies and mice and rats and whatever else is looking for dinner, I use plastic berry cartons turned over and set in place with sticks or with rocks on top. Reuse and repurpose! They are also good for protecting figs . The cartons allow enough sun in, and also makes it very obvious where the seedling is so that you don’t step on it, or weed the little tomatoes out with the almost identical ragweed sprouts. For larger plants, turn over a milk crate.
I have no native quail in my yard. Due to nearby houseing developments, there aren’t many quail around me anymore. Quail would fill the niche of beetle and sowbug eaters. My hens want only worms, spoiled things, and their big feet do a lot of damage if not watched.
Sowbugs cluster under mulch and do damage to stems and fruit.
I use a little food-grade diatomaceous earth around the seedlings, new sprouts in the garden, around the strawberry plants, and also around plants such as artichoke, corn and chard where ants have begun to farm aphids.
I use it around the trunks of my stonefruit trees to stop the ants, and have been told that it works well around the legs of beehives in lieu of or in combination with cups of oil to keep out the ants. Diatomaceous earth is the finely ground bodies of ancient sea creatures (diatoms). The powder on a microscopic level is full of sharp edges.
When a sectioned insect such as an ant, flea or sowbug crawls on it, it rasps their tender areas and dessicates them. Not something I really am happy about doing to the bugs. I’m only using it on a very small scale. Remember that any insecticide, even DE, kills many kinds of insects not just the targets. You don’t want to eradicate your insects; most of them are helping your plants and your soil. DE will melt into the soil when watered, but only reapply if you still see the target bugs. The problem might already be taken care of.
Use food-grade DE, not the kind that is sold in pool supply stores. FGDE is used in graineries to keep weevils and other bugs out of grain and beans, so you’ve been eating it for years without knowing it. It doesn’t hurt us, nor is it bad to breathe (some people wear masks that they can get from https://accumed.com/n95-mask-for-sale-respirator-safety-face-mask-z1.html, just in case). It is a great, natural and inexpensive way to fight fleas without paying big money for poisons to put on your pet. I have it all over my cats’ bedding.
They sell DE sprayers, but they become clogged. The easiest and least expensive applicator (which can be repurposed)? A condiment dispenser. You know, the plastic mustard and ketchup squeeze bottles in diners. I bought a set of two for $2. You can practice a little to dispense a finer dust.
So I plant my little guys, give them a drink, squeeze a little DE around them, give them a berry basket hat until they outgrow it, then take it off to use elsewhere. If there is still a threat to your plants from critters (somebody was eating my eggplant leaves last year! I mean, really…ick!), then turn a wire gopher cage over the top or make a wire cage to fit and use sticks or landscape staples to fasten into the ground.. These, too, you can reuse yearly.
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I Shouldn’t Be Allowed Out
While returning from a trip with good friends to the San Diego Zoo Safari Park’s butterfly exhibit, my daughter and I stopped at the local feed store to look at the chicks that had just arrived. Big mistake. Please welcome to the world, and to Finch Frolic Gardens, two Light Brahmas named Annabelle Lee and Daisy, two Rhode Island Reds named Ruby and Charlotte, two Buff Orpingtons named Esther and Myrtle, two Americaunas named Hermionie and Belle, a Turken named Malaika, a Blue Cochin named Bodacea and a Black Cochin named Mulan. The names are all literary or historical.
So, the turkin was all alone since someone had bought all the others earlier in the day except her. Turkins are not crosses between chickens and turkeys, they are a bare-neck breed from Transylvannia. The cochins are ‘straight run’ which means there is a 50/50 chance they are males, which I don’t want, so the owner gave me two with the guarantee that I could return them if they turned out not to be hens.
They have the cutest feathery feet and rounded butts. The rest of them are probably pullets (females) but there is always a chance that some aren’t. Oh, and they are small and cute and a lot fit into a small box. For the moment.
Within a few months they will be joining Miss Amelia, Lark, Chickpea and Madge in the Fowl Fortress, and maybe Viola if she is no longer a house chicken.
UPDATE: The chicks were fine Wed. night, but by Thurs. afternoon four were weak and not eating or drinking. After a long evening and night keeping them warm and feeding them antibiotic in Pedialite with vitamins, they all succumbed. Ruby, Daisy, Annabelle Lee and Hermoinie passed on. A week later and the others are thriving. We lost both Light Brahmas, and I’m considering buying two more just because they are so cute. After much research we still have no idea why these four were ill. Day-old chicks go through a lot after hatching, including a rough mail shipment, overcrowding, and change of diet, temperature and light length. Hatcheries will often send extra chicks to make up for the percentage naturally lost due to shock or illness. Now I just hope none of the girls are guys!
- Animals, Chickens, Compost, Gardening adventures, Hugelkultur, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Soil, Worms
Strawberry-flavored Hugelkultur, Please
A few months ago my daughter and I thinned out the raised strawberry bed.
I planted the extra strawberries under the passionvine arch,
using well pooed and pecked and rained-upon straw from the Fowl Fortress as mulch.
However the soil level in the raised bed has become lower, and the Bermuda grass has grown higher. Time for a re-do.
When I’d originally planted the bed a few years ago, I’d heard about burying wood to hold moisture and improve the soil. Some little thing we call… hugelkultur. I laid old lime tree logs along one side. They began to break down and some really cool mushrooms came up.
Strawberries sent runners out and they rooted right in the wood. A great success.
Since I don’t have ready compost to fill such a large bed right now, I decided to do the hugel-thing in the entire bed. I spent several hours digging out the strawberries and the Bermuda grass.
Then I pulled the soil back and was simply amazed.
It was crumbly like prime worm castings. I lined the bottom of the raised bed with the logs on top of the wire I’d laid across the bottom to deter gophers and mice.
Then I shoveled heavy clay out of the new bog area and threw that in and around the logs; the wood would decompose and turn the clay to great soil, and the clay already had a lot of interesting microscopic creatures in it from being at the edge of the pond.
On top of that I sprinkled some pigeon guano I recently received from some wonderful new friends who rescue pigeons. (They are wonderful even if they hadn’t given me the guano. I have many friends who, in fact, are guano-less. Just to clarify.) There were a lot of pigeon peas in the guano, but if they sprout its all good because they are nitrogen fixers and will only help things along. Some sugar was added to help stir up the bacteria in the clay.All along I watered everything in, including hosing down Lark the fat, barren Barred Rock hen who just wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept jumping into the bed to steal the worms!
My hens are such prima-donnas that they refuse to eat sowbugs and just go for worms. Geez! Lark got back at me later by making me come after her when it was time to shut them in for the night.
The last layer on the bed (and I don’t mean a chicken) was the good soil into which I replanted the strawberries. I did this process in thirds and ended up with a lot of extra strawberries.
As it was nearing sunset and I was becoming chilly in my shorts and sleeveless shirt, I hurriedly planted the extras up under the passionfruit trellis, in with the others from the previous planting. Most of them had happily survived.
The leftover soil I sprinkled on top, laid the soaker hose back on top, and voila! A somewhat shocked but hopefully soon-to-be-happier strawberry bed.
There are a couple of wild mallards that come to the pond and have grown trusting of me up to a point. I throw game bird food by the pond for them. I don’t want to tame them, but I like it that they don’t fly off in a fright every time I come near. Its better for their health not to be so stressed. Makes me feel good, too.
While I was digging I looked up to find my hens all in a row watching me, and beyond them inside the Fowl Fortress (the door of which I’d propped open) were the two mallards! They were perfectly content to be eating what the hens hadn’t eaten, and were even sitting in there enjoying… I don’t know… forbidden territory?
The alluring and romantic smell of chicken poop? After awhile Miss Amelia wandered in there and the mallards wandered out. They’re welcome in there, but if they want me to build them a castle of their own, forget it. They already have the floating duck house, after all!
- Compost, Gardening adventures, Hugelkultur, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Rain Catching, Soil, Vegetables
Hugelkultur: Irrigating with old wood
Hugelkultur is a German word (pronounced hoogle culture: it should have some umlauts over the first ‘u’ but I have no idea how to do that) which translates as hill culture. It is a process of building raised beds with a core of old wood. The benefits are that as the wood decomposes it not only releases nutrients into the soil, but it holds water like a sponge. Rain water is collected inside the bed, then as the warmer weather sets in and heat dries out the outer shell, it will wick that moisture back out. Presto! Irrigation in the dry season. As the wood decomposes it creates air holes into which deeper roots may penetrate and absorb nutrients that aren’t being washed into the ground water. Also, growing on a tall hugelkultur bed makes harvesting easier because vegetables are often located higher off the ground. The process was popularized by Sepp Holzer, although he didn’t actually call it that.
Hugelkultur may be started flat on the ground, by hand or by machine, dug into the ground, stacked very tall or short, or even level to the ground. The best way to build a bed is to place it on contour where rainwater will collect, preferably facing North and South so that both sides receive equal sun.
I have areas of ground that are either very heavy clay, or are decomposed granite with stones left over from the building of the house. Some trees don’t receive the drainage they need from irrigation because of the clay, which causes the roots to suffocate, or else plants dry up because water perculates too swiftly through the soil.
I also have stacks of brush that were left when the garden was created as hiding places for animals while the garden grew. I don’t need that many brush piles anymore now that the garden is large. I have three wire cages filled with woodier weeds and prunings that are in ‘slow compost’ mode, and leftover trimmings from bamboo used in bridge construction. Perfect hugelkultur components!
I targeted an area between the pathway and a plant guild with two apricots and vegetables in it. When it rains that area has standing water on it because of the clay content. The area should become part of the guild, but the soil needs mucho amending. I have areas like this all around the property. How to amend two acres of soil? How to get rid of the ever-rising mountains of prunings? How to make the rain water permiate the soil and perculate down rather than sheet across? One guess. Yep, hugelkultur. I bury that wood!
I had made a small hugelkultur experiment a year ago with a raised strawberry bed. There was old lime firewood rotting on the property, so I placed several of these logs along the side of the bed, then covered them with soil and planted strawberries. It worked very well. The strawberries loved the acid, even growing into the decomposing logs, and the logs held the moisture. Some wonderful showy fungus came up, too. I will be reworking that bed and this time I will cover the ground with logs, throw on some llama or horse manure, cover with compost and replant the strawberries. I shouldn’t have to fertilize that bed or add soil for a long time.
For the big hugelkultur bed I wanted a deep hole that would capture rain and allow the wood to absorb it. My faithful assistants Lori and Steve and Jacob work on this project with me. Steve and Lori dug this ginormous serpentine pit about 2 1/2 feet deep and the same wide.
Since the paths had just been covered with mulch, the dirt was piled on top of plywood layed over the mulch for protection.
Then we began filling the bed with the largest wood first.
We didn’t have large logs which would have worked well, but we had lots of thick branches. This hole took a lot of prunings and we jumped on them to compact them down.
The hugelkultur bed was left for a few days to settle (and we had run out of time and energy that first day!), and then we worked on it again. Extra dirt from the rain catchment basins that the men were enlarging was hauled down and thrown into and around the wood.
The mound was watered well. In dry areas it is important to water the wood and the soil well as you are building or else the bed will want to draw water from the area around it, drying up any seeds or plants planted on it.
Of course if this is a temporarily boggy area, the hugel bed would help dry it out. There were subterranean irrigation lines across the area already, and since we have a dry climate and the wood I used wasn’t old spongy logs and would take some time to become absorbant, we reestablished the drip system across the top of the hugel bed.
Because there weren’t large logs, there were a lot of spaces to fill with dirt. Gradually the mound grew and was sloped down to the pathway. Finally a couple of inches of dirt was packed on top. Unfortunately this was mostly clay from the excavation site, but if it had been good soil to begin with, I wouldn’t have needed the hugel bed now, would I? Yes, I did give it a sprinkling of sugar just to get the microbes feeding.
The next day I dug up soil from the bottom of the wire cages that were now empty of branches, vines, and sticks. In less than a year since making the wire beds they’d begun to decompose and there was several inches of nice soil at the bottom. I hauled it over to the new bed and topped the clay with the compost.
I want to break up the clay soil so I threw around a cover crop mixture of peas and wheat. The peas will fix nitrogen in the soil, the wheat roots will stabilize and break up clay, I can harvest food from both and then slash and drop the plants to bring nutrition to the soil surface. I also had a bag of mixed old veggie seeds. Last year or so ago I pulled out all my little envelopes of veggie seeds that were very old and mixed them all up. I planted batches around the property and had many things germinate. I still had about 2 cups of the seed left so I threw it around the new hugelbed along with the cover crop. Why not? If the seed isn’t viable, no loss. If it is, terrific! I can always transplant the sprouts if there are too many of any one thing.
I watered the seed down, and then raked out the old straw from the Fowl Fortress. Here is a warning about straw: it will germinate. People say straw doesn’t have seeds in it because the seeds are all in the tops which is cut as hay, but they lie. They live in a dream. Straw still has seeds in it and I had a nightmare of a time weeding pathways the first year of the garden because they were all strewn with straw mulch. However if you put straw down for your hens first, they will eat all the seeds, poo on it, kick it around in the dirt, and then you will have a much better quality straw to use. Straw is difficult to get wet, and it needs to be wet when placed on the bed unless you live in a wet climate or have timed the planting to be just before a long soaking rain.
Even then it is good to soak the straw first and then apply it to the bed. Some people soak the straw in an enriched liquid, using manure tea, kelp, microbial brews, organic molassas, etc. The mulch acts as an insulator for moisture and warmth (the decaying wood will eventually produce some heat to warm the little plant feet), and a suffocator for weeds. It can also be a home for sow bugs if too thin. In wetter climates the straw layer can be an inch or so thick. In drier climates the straw or whatever you use as a top mulch should be several inches thick or else it will just wick moisture out of the bed. The same rule applys when using newspapers as a mulch. TIP: don’t let your chickens near the new bed! They will ‘rediscover’ their old mulch and start kicking all your work apart!
If I had wanted to plant established plants on the hugelkultur bed rather than seeds, I would have forgone spreading compost and just covered the poor soil on the mound in wet newspaper or cardboard, and then piled on the straw mulch. To plant I would have cut a hole through the paper, added a handful of good compost and planted in the hole.
So the bed was done, and just before a predicted rain event, too. As it rains the water will roll into the bed, be absorbed and held by the soil around the branches which will eventually begin to absorb the moisture as they decay. The seeds will sprout through the mulch and their roots will hold and amend the clay on the mound. Eventually the roots of the apricot trees will reach over towards the hugel bed, and that patch of icky clay soil will become beautiful. All the while I can still grow crops on the raised bed. My three wire bins are empty, an enormous brush pile is reduced to a small mound, and extra dirt found a new home. Plus we all had some fantastic upper body workouts. A winning situation all around.
More hugel beds will be created in troubled spots; some may only be a couple of feet long below a tree’s root line to help with soil drainage while amending the planting bed.
If you are in an area where the top mulch might wash away in heavy rains, make a latticework of sticks held down with landscape pins or more sticks over the top of the straw. Or cover with wire until the plants begin to sprout; you don’t want the wire to remain on the bed.
So try a hugelkultur bed, big or small. You’ll wonder why you never tried it before.
- Animals, Bees, Birding, Chickens, Gardening adventures, Heirloom Plants, Permaculture and Edible Forest Gardening Adventures, Pets, Photos, Ponds
It Might As Well Be Spring: an Indulgence in Prose
Mornings find me waking before sunrise, throwing cats off my bed, rousing my elderly dog for her morning ablutions, and scampering down to the hen house in my robe and slippers (and some mornings warm hat and scarf) to feed the hens and the wild ducks, and the tortoise.
Last night when I let Sophie out for her final walk of the night the Santa Ana winds were like a warm caress, riffling through the palm fronds in the dark. Orion sparkled overhead, moving into the position it was in for the birth of both my March babies half a lifetime ago.
This morning the air was expectant. The garden seemed to emit a trembling energy; an excitement roiling to the surface, but afraid to burst out in full in case of another frost.
Indeed another cold front will be moving in with much-needed rainfall later this week. For now, the bold grasses are up and reckless early stonefruit have blossomed out, much to the joy of the hungry bees.
I could almost hear Browning’s Pippa chanting in my head. But not too much.
The ornamental pear trees all around town are in full glorious bloom. Yesterday while driving from the Community Center to the bookstore there were enough petals strewn in the road as to cause a whirlwind of white as I drove through. An eddy of petals around my car. Joy.
This weekend is the Great Backyard Bird Count, as well as my two regular bird count days for Project Feederwatch. Before breakfasting I filled seed feeders and enjoyed the show while eating my fresh egg, asparagus, toast and cinnamon tea. Twitterpating is definitely in the air as birds pair up and rival mallards chase each other over the big pond.
A Northern mockingbird sips from the bird bath dripper sizing up his territory and listening for new sounds to add to his repertoire. A buzzy rufous hummingbird guards the nectar feeder from the larger and flashier Anna’s. A long-mated pair of crows hang out preening each other on the telephone wire.
Frogs are croaking amorously in the damp rushes. To my complete joy, far earlier than the bulbs strewn across the property which are just peeking green out of the earth, just outside my window are early daffodils and sweet violets, two of my favorite flowers.
It is still February, and I’m not that great a fan of such a beastly month as February , but for today the paperwork will lie ignored, the cold weather clothes will stay in the laundry basket, and after I take my cat to the vet I will spend the day in the garden (although that isn’t so unusual for me, is it?) listening to the Nuttall’s woodpecker try to drum holes into the telephone pole and smell the scent of Gideon’s trumpet flowers.
I look forward to tomorrow when I’ll be making two new friends, and to casting seed which will add new life to the garden.
It is all about possibilities, and possibility is definitely in the air today. I will believe Punxsutawney Phil that although it is technically winter, for today it might as well be spring.