Patiently Waiting

A few weeks ago, I went down to gather the eggs. I noticed a hen sitting in one of the nest boxes, so I took her out and got the eggs that were under her. The next day that very same chicken was on the nest again. I repeated what I did the day before, but the hen would not give up. Finally, I asked Dad if I could take her and put her in a separate pen with ten eggs to sit on and hatch.

The day we let the broody chicken sit was April 30. I put straw into the little pen and put in a water and food bowl. I took ten eggs and set them on the straw and then I put the chicken in last. She sat on the eggs right away.

When a hen sits on her eggs, she heats the eggs up to 100 to 101 degrees Fahrenheit. She turns them over using her beak. The humidity the eggs need comes from the hen’s body. Brooding chickens eat in the early morning or late evening when the dew is on the grass. This way her feathers get wet so she can keep her eggs moist.

It takes twenty-one days for a chick to hatch, which meant that if everything went well, on May twenty-first there would be baby chicks emerging. I was excited and could not wait! A hen that is sitting will talk to her eggs a few days before they hatch and the chicks will talk back to her through their shell. That is why the chicks know their mother’s voice so well.

Every morning when I fed the chickens, I checked the hen sitting on her clutch of eggs. I gave her food and water, and a little handful of grass to eat. At first, she did not eat the food I gave her, but after a couple of days she ate every bit of grass I offered her. I continued doing this day after day. It felt like the eggs were never going to hatch. I noticed the chicken sitting on her nest patiently waiting. She was more patient than I was.

On the morning of May twenty-first, I went to feed the sitting hen when I heard a peeping noise. I bent over to get a closer look and saw a little head poke out from under the mother hen’s wing. Later I found out there were three little chicks. I was extremely excited!

~Jonah

When You Don’t Have One, You Make One!

My children were looking for the badminton net that we used last year which was nowhere to be found. It was then that they remembered it having been in very bad shape at the end of the season. We had disposed of it. What were they to do? We discussed purchasing a new one, but they were more interested in playing volleyball. The smaller size of a new badminton net wouldn’t work as well. They were determined to craft something.

I suggested using baler twine after I heard them discussing what type of material would work for a net. They had thought about the bird netting that we use for our cherries, berries, and grapes. That would be too flimsy. And besides, we weren’t keen on it being cut into a long strip. That is when the twine came up.

We returned from town one afternoon to see an amazing creation connected to the south side of the porch across to a tree in the playground! Three long stands of twine were strung and then there stood Jonah, Samuel, Isaac and Unique weaving the cross members of an amazing net!

 

On the wall of our bedroom, there hangs a small cross-stitch that I made the year we moved to Providence Prairie. It is the old saying- “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.” 

Resourcefulness is a good character quality that transcends time. It will help one find quick and clever ways to overcome difficulties. 

Resourcefulness enables one the motivation to find and use available supplies to solve problems and achieve goals. My children used the limited resources they found around them to innovatively create a net to solve their problem. This problem-solving resource will serve them well as they venture into adulthood.

As a result, we spent the afternoon together playing an impromptu game of volleyball as a family. That fun was due to the initiative of several young minds setting to work on a problem and discovering a solution. When you don’t have a net, you make one!

~Rhonda

Waiting For Them To Appear

Last year under the Christmas tree there was a brightly colored present for Mom. As she opened it, we all noticed something orange beneath the wrapping paper. She pulled it out and we all discovered that it was an Oriole feeder.

Mom likes to feed the birds. In the wintertime, we like to feed the birds bird seed. We also like to give the birds suet. In the springtime, we like to hang up hummingbird feeders.

Ruby Throated Hummingbird

A couple days ago we got the bright orange feeder out of storage and Mom put some grape jelly in the bowl. After a thorough search for a sturdy branch, Jayla helped her hang it up.

Birds like Robins, Brown Thrasher, European Starling, Cedar Waxwing, House Finch, and Northern Cardinal all like jelly. 

Orchard Oriole

 

Boston Oriole

 

Orioles like to eat insects, fruit, nectar, and jelly. In the summertime, while they take care of their chicks, most of the food that they eat is insects.

Summer Tanager

Butterflies have visited the feeder. Yesterday, Mom, Jayla, and Unique saw a pair of summer tanagers out the kitchen window. No Orioles have come yet. I cannot wait for them to appear.

Red Spotted Purple Butterfly

~Isaac

Lego Business

I am building small Lego rental houses for my business. Jonah, Samuel, Isaac and I play Legos together and each one of us runs a business. We have fun together when we play.

I have sorted out the pieces by color. I thought it would be cool to have the pieces separated into different colors so that I could grab the ones that I wanted. Mama gave me separate bags to put the different colors in.

I wanted to make a Lego city. It’s going to be fun building the houses. Did you know that six 2x4 Lego bricks can be changed more than nine hundred fifteen ways. I’m going to see if I can change them more than that. Did you also know that a row of around forty billion Lego bricks can reach to the moon? That’s crazy! I don’t think we have that many.

When I build my houses, I put all my bricks on the large flat pieces. I ran out of them, and I don’t think I have enough left to build on, but I’m going to try as hard as I can to keep building. The flat piece makes the ground, and it makes it easier to build a house or building. I have built one house for Samuel, and I am making one for Jonah. I get paid fifty dollars each month since they are rental houses.

Since we do our marketing with Lego’s, I am getting a lot of business and money. It’s only play money made from small, flat Lego pieces. Isaac has a tow truck business. Samuel is a policeman. Jonah is an inventor who works for Lego NASA. Sometimes he causes trouble in the play town. That gives Samuel something to take care of.

On average, every person on Earth owns eighty-six Lego bricks. I like pretending our community with the Legos. I know we own more than eighty-six Legos, because we have a lot. With the Legos we own, we just have so much fun.

~Unique

Dreams of Dress- Up

There’s the sound of children’s voices, and a creaking of the door,  

there’s excitement in the air, as they patter ‘cross the floor.

 

There’s a search among the various crates stacked against the wall, 

there’s a flurry of delight as they bring them in the hall.            

 

There’s a dusting off of covers, and a sneeze or two,

there’s a group of eager children round the box of blue.

 

There’s a peeling off of lids and expectant eyes,

there’s a million ooohhhs and aaahhhs as they’ve fin’lly found their prize.

 

Here's a pretty pink dress with a silvery sheen,

here’s an odd purple shoe and a hat of green.

 

Here’ s pair of broken glasses, and a walking cane,

here’s the black and white dress with the tomato sauce stain.

 

Here’s a sergeant’s cap and his vest as well,

here’s set of high heels, littles think so swell,

 

Here’s a dozen varied wigs of brown, white, and red,

here’s a golden circlet crown for a prince’s head.

 

Here’s a pair of overalls, and the other purple shoe,

and a box of paints and powders in countless pretty hues.

 

Look! It’s the lovely dress Grandma used to wear,

Shiny pins and clips; the bow from Sister’s hair.

 

Look it’s Brother’s costume that he wore for that play,

and the silky white dress that Mama made one day.

 

Look it’s Dad’s name tag he used to wear to work,

and the clown’s wig and nose that he used at church.

 

Look, it’s the woven shawls we bought at that sale,

and the dress with shoulder pads no one likes so well.

 

Look it’s the jewelry we got from a friend

and the dress with the tear that we didn’t mend.

 

Soon they’ve emptied all the tubs of their different prizes,   

soon they’ve dressed themselves in clothes that are all the wrong sizes.

Soon they’ve put on strings of pearls and big gaudy rings,

soon they’ve cluttered up the hall with all their various things.

 

Soon they’ve tried on every hat and gauzy scarf and wig,

soon they’ve clumped around in shoes, six sizes too big.

Soon they’ve drowned themselves in wraps and fluffy furs and skins,

and they’ve roused up by this time an unexpected din.

 

Now they’re princesses and princes at a royal ball,

now they’re explorers on a mission to find Taj Mahal.

Now they’re sailors, now they’re Indians, now they’re pioneers,

now they’re soldiers in an army, now they’re buccaneers.

 

Now they’re each about his business in their make-believe town,

now they’re acrobats and dancers or a circus clown.

 Now they’re gypsies, now they’re genies, now they’re cops and crooks, 

now they’re characters come to life from their favorite story books.  

 

There’s the calling of a voice and a stopping of the play,

there’s a looking at the clock above in acrimonious dismay.

 

There’s a murmur of regret and a sigh or two,

there’re all the things returning to the simple box of blue.

 

There’s a sound of stacking crates, and a shutting of the door,

there are feet retracing somber steps across the dirty floor.

 

There’s a settling of silence as the voices fade away,

there are dreams of playing dress-up another rainy day.

~Halayah

Lost the Battle but Won the War!

We often like to catch, keep, and study wild animals and insects, we also like the challenge of battling wasps and hornets! It’s not always a victory, and we are sometimes bitten or stung in the process. Some bites and stings are barely noticeable, while others can be extremely painful. When I was only ten, I was stung very near the eye by a paper wasp!

My brothers and I had once decided to take out a nest of about 5 or 10 paper wasps who had made nest in our basketball hoop! Each wasp was about 3/4-inches long and could fly at a speed of 7 to 8 mph! When we arrived at where the battle was to take place, we ran into a problem. How would we make the wasps come out? Our question was answered when one of us spotted all the basketballs lying around!

Armed with tennis rackets, whiffle ball bats, and sticks, we each sent a volley of basketballs directly at the nest! Most of the balls had hit the target, and after they had bounced off and we had waited a few seconds, we heard a familiar buzzing sound! Suddenly, out from the nest came a swarm of 15 to 20 furiously mad paper wasps! We all stood in silence for about three seconds, surprised at the unexpected number of the enemy. Then, after getting over our surprise, we attacked, and the battle started. A few lessons we all learned a long time ago, was that there was no surrender, turning your back was a good way to get stung, never stop swinging your weapon, and pay close attention to everything around you. We swung our weapons wildly, ducking and dodging as the wasps flew about our heads. Down went one insect, then a second! The war was in our favor! Our rivals were losing! We could smell victory in the air! We slowly advanced as we forced our foe backwards. The war was so close to ending then and there, but that all changed in just a few milliseconds.

There I was, in the front lines fighting my way toward the nest. I was getting close; only a few more feet until I would have the nest destroyed! That’s when I made my first mistake. I was busy swinging my tennis racket, when I decided to take out the nest. I made a run for it, and as I arrived, I turned and called out my accomplishment, but as I did, I broke rule number 3! I stopped swinging my weapon! When I turned back around to deal with the nest, I was met face to face with a wasp! I swung my racket, but the wasp was faster! It managed to slip past my weapon, land on the bottom eyelid of the left eye, where it ejected its painful stinger and released its poison! The poison was not fatal, but it felt like I was just hit in the eye by a metal baseball bat! My hand went to my eye in a flash, and I started swinging my racket even faster! That wasp that had stung me was still buzzing around my face, because unlike honeybees, a wasp can sting as many times as it desires! I was part mad, stunned, surprised, and a little afraid that the wasp might sting me again! That’s why when I hit the wasp, the force from the tennis racket completely obliterated it!

Once I was satisfied with my revenge, I started to really feel the pain from the sting. I ran off the battlefield calling to retreat! We all regrouped at the porch where I explained what had happened. By then, my eye had started to swell a good bit, and it was decided that we would hold any further attacks until the following day.

I walked inside the house and told Mom what had happened. She said to chew up some plantain leaf and put it on the wound. I strayed about looking for the plant, and when I found it, I followed the directions given to me. I was starting to get a bit worried; my eye was getting big! I went back inside the house, and with the chewed-up plantain leaf on my eye, I laid on our couch. It was getting late, and was sure my eye would heal overnight, so I went to bed.

The following day when I awoke and tried to open my eyes, my right one opened, but the left would not move! My thoughts were instantly turned toward what had happened the day before! I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs to look in the hallway mirror. When I did however, I saw that my eye had swollen to the size of a golf ball and was completely shut! I was terrified! I didn’t know what to do, how could I walk around looking like this? Luckily it was the beginning of the week, and by the time Sunday rolled around, my eye was almost as good as new.

 

Once I was able to see with both eyes, we tried retaking the basketball hoop, but the wasps were alert and active and getting close enough to fight was next to impossible. We didn’t give up however, we just broke out our secret weapon, wasp spray! We did lose the battle, but we won the war!

~Samuel

Harvesting Memories

It sounds dangerous. Ears of corn falling all around you while you sit in a wagon, pulled by a tractor, that is pulling a corn picker. While there may have been an element of danger in the process, wonderful childhood memories abound with such an event.

A corn picker is an amazing machine produced by the New Idea farming company in the early 1900s. It had the ability to pull an ear of corn off the stalk, husk it, and drop it in a wagon that was pulled behind it. It made it possible for a single worker to harvest fifteen acres of corn per day. Prior to this, corn had to be pulled off the stalk and shucked by hand.

 

Memories of my papaw, Carl McDaniel, cutting corn with a corn knife and husking the ears with hand shuckers are vivid in my mind. He even won first place in a local shucking contest, as not one person in Lynchburg, Ohio could come close to his swiftness. He used this celebrated ability prior to the widespread use of the corn picker.

As a child, my dad owned and operated just such a corn picker on our family farm. When harvest time came, the equipment headed to the field with children in tow. As the tractor pulled the picker through the rows of corn, it would catch the ears and pull them off. From there, it took the corn to a husking bed, where rollers turned and grabbed the husks, pulling them off. The husked corn then dropped into a chute, where it was taken by elevator and dropped into the trailing wagon. As children, that was where the action was. As the wagon filled, we would adjust ourselves accordingly, until there was no space left to sit. From there, it was off to the corn crib, where the corn was shoveled by hand into the crib for safe keeping.

Several years ago, I purchased an aged corn picker for myself, thinking that I might continue the tradition with my children. In my mind, I have envisioned the same process on my farm. Time, lack of necessity, and essential repairs on the picker changed my course. The apparatus is now set for sale, awaiting a new owner for possible future use.

Nevertheless, I can see my dad, Don McDaniel, driving his Ford 8N tractor into the field for harvest pulling the old wagon that we would ride in, as the ears of corn came raining down like magic from above. He knew that his children would be safe as they rode along in his wagon. We never worried about whether we would be harmed, as he always kept a watchful eye on his children. Corn picking and harvest time always triggered smiles on our faces and brought joy to the hearts of his offspring.

Although I may not have used my own contraption, our corn picker has spawned a lot of conversation and has brought back many good harvesting recollections from days gone by. Memories like these are sentimental reminders of a simple life of a loving family growing up on an Ohio farm. For these, I am thankful.

~Mark