chicken shenanigans

Me around 1982 (I think).

Finally, a farm animal I have some experience with. I'm no pro, but I have successfully raised backyard chickens from chick-hood to slaughter. It is the one farm animal that I didn't need to wait to get out to our farm first to experiment with.

My first flock included two Barred Rocks and two Buff Orpingtons, all hens because I live in a neighborhood (with a "country club", if you can call it that - imagine Boulder Creek's finest white trash [including us] getting sauced down by the pool every weekend in the summer) and didn't want to piss of my neighbors (any more so than usual anyway) with a rooster. I was only semi-successful in not pissing them off because those feathery bitches ended up being LOUD. Let's just say I gave a lot of eggs away to my neighbors in a halfhearted attempt to maintain the peace (our neighbors are actually way cool and never complained, but if I were my neighbor, those hens would have mysteriously disappeared loooong before we cut their heads off).

I also had experience with chickens even before that because my Mom had a bunch when I was a kid. I have vivid recollection of a family get-together where my cousins and uncles and aunties were invited over for the mass chicken slaughter at the end of the summer. There were headless chickens running around and pretty much total chaos from the scalding and plucking and cooking (but fun, nonetheless). My city-slicker cousins walked away totally mortified.

Feeding a chicken... a shuttlecock? I do love me some badminton.

I still carry them around like that sometimes.

We also had various other fowl, such as geese and turkeys.

Modesty was clearly not a concern for me yet.
FYI, geese grow up to be MEAN.

An ill-fitting bikini and a turkey that got so fat, its own legs wouldn't support it anymore!

Jay doesn't even eat eggs, so keeping chickens is more for my own entertainment than to meet any resolution to become self-sufficient (at least for now) - we figured the homegrown meat would be an added bonus. Our 10-year old nephew, Anthony, was so excited to eat a drumstick from Auntie Sarah's first chicken (even after watching me eviscerate the thing - I explained every organ to the best of my ability because he was so interested), but I waited way too long to slaughter that first batch, and the end result was totally unpalatable (we tried doing beer-can chicken) - he kinda picked at the skin but couldn't even chew through the meat because it was so tough. I was drunk by that point, happy to finally have mustered up enough confidence to even do the deed, and cheerily wrote the bird off as a rookie mistake, but Ant was so disappointed! One of them later got taken out by an asshole neighbor's dog while we were out shopping one morning, and we ended up just making the other two into stock. What a waste.

Anyway, for my second flock, I chose one each of the Delaware, Black Jersey Giant, Black Cochin, and Wyandotte breeds - appropriately named Del, Jersey, Cochise, and Whiner. These breeds have been much quieter, friendlier, and I like them a lot better. Cochise got mauled by a fucking raccoon very early one morning (that was fun telling my co-workers why I was late for work), and we ate Whiner on Christmas morning. I did it right this time, and she was delicious (unfortunately, Ant wasn't there to enjoy it).

Del and Jersey have been spared the axe because I have this romanticized notion that we are going to move to our home in Tennessee hauling all our animals Beverly Hillbilly style with my chickens strapped to the back of the truck in a cage, feathers flying, cackling (don't worry, I'm not going to really do this - but we are taking them with us), and then finally reaching the holler and letting them soak up all that glorious freedom and sun and happiness that is our farm dream.

Next up: future chickens!

~ Mitsy

thinking too hard while i sleep

For the past few weeks, I've dreamt of the holler every single night. I may not necessarily recall the exact dream details (although I do have a knack for recounting my dreams, which sometimes tests Jay's patience with my incessant ramblings), but I do know that holler dreams pay me a visit regularly.

On Tuesday night, my dream was multi-faceted. It was somewhat shrouded in anxiety, probably because we've been discussing a lot lately when we might actually make it out there for our final move, which of course gets me incredibly giddy, not to mention makes me break out into full-blown planner craziness. Yes, I started planning our vegetable garden, fruit orchard, and bramble patch on paper (er, I mean Excel because my handwriting sucks balls and do you really think someone as anal-retentive as I am could make do with handwritten notes? pshaw).

I've started developing our future pasture renovation timeline.

I'm discovering which herbs are best inter-planted amongst my future annual vegetables for maximum disease/parasite/bug/fungus/whatever resistance and that will attract beneficial insects and butterflies.

I'm researching what hardy, perennial ground covers would do well for my future garden pathways.

I'm interested in learning more about hugelkultur, quick hoops versus greenhouses, and mob grazing. I haven't delved into bee keeping or forest gardening yet.

I study the aerial views of our property daily and think about how to make the lay of our land work best for all these projects that I think up.

Y'all, Mitsy McPlanner is quite the obsessive compulsive gal to be around these days.

Anyway, back to my dream:

We're at the cabin (Jay is always closeby in my dreams but not necessarily within view), but it's situated more on an east/west axis instead of the current north/south orientation and is slightly bigger. It's a sunny day.

Jay is in the driveway trying to pick something up off the ground when this very large tractor/heavy equipment type vehicle comes barreling up and brakes just in time to barely avoid hitting him. He greets the mail lady hello and continues to try to pick up the strange object.

There's a real estate agent showing someone the cabin interior, and I tell her that it's not for sale anymore because we bought it, and she responds that she just wants to show her client the woodwork (which isn't anything to write home about).

I'm now out behind the cabin, and there's a huge field that dips way down and up the mountain again - a big bowl of pasture of sorts. It's very pretty - the tall green grass seems to be sparkling and is swaying in the breeze - but I don't remember it being there before (our land only goes up the mountain from the cabin in real life).

I'm back inside and some person has left the kitchen sink running, and it is now overflowing. Anyone that knows me well can attest to my innate fear of overflowing toilets, sinks, and swimming pools. This fear plays a role in my dreams frequently. I still can't believe there's no name for this phobia - believe me I've looked.

The overflowing kitchen sink is red and shaped kinda like a heart and is surrounded with pretty glass countertops, which I think to myself is neat but can't look at any longer because I'm fleeing in fear.

Now out in front of the cabin, people are setting up a flea market of sorts to peddle their treasures. There are about five people with plastic tables littered with various knick knacks. I don't seem to mind this infringement on our privacy.

I look up the hill and someone has built a much bigger cabin and is waving from the front porch. On our land. Looking down on us. This infringement infuriates me!

THE END. Aren't dreams fucking weird?!

buying land in a poor area

[ warning, I blab a lot in this post ]

When relocating, people usually decide what amenities they can't live without and narrow their search to find their ideal location. Common requests include highly rated schools, a low crime rate, diverse shopping options, reasonable utility expenses, efficient transportation and communications options, and a decent entertainment scene (whatever that may entail). Although they may balk, all these amenities come at a price, usually in the form of higher property and/or income taxes as well as more bureaucracy, and most people grudgingly accept such trade-offs as necessary. Such a bucket list usually means that economically depressed areas get crossed off the list right away because poor areas usually have more drug use, a lower high school graduation rate, ineffective or nonexistent social services, a stagnant business climate (leading to few jobs), and perhaps community eyesores/trashiness that are not acceptable in certain minds. People that are relatively well off can't envision themselves downgrading their standards and people less fortunate are usually looking to improve upon what they see as a lower standard of living if at all possible.

Our relocation needs differed vastly from the majority of folks:

1) Our number one requirement was to be in the  mountains and live in a scenic setting surrounded by nature and abundant natural resources. We had to have fertile soil, a plentiful water source, and lots of solar gain (aka, a predominantly south-facing parcel). We wanted a large chunk of acreage, with privacy being paramount, thus allowing us freedom to focus on whatever homesteading projects we dream up while encountering as little bureaucracy as possible.

2) Kids are not in our future, so good schools were irrelevant (although some may argue that good schools still benefit the child-free in the form of less crime, a better educated workforce, etc).

3) While I do like to shop, I don't mind driving an hour or two to get there (adventure!), and homesteading will inherently mean doing much less food shopping, and most other shopping can be done online (therefore, we did need to be able to have UPS find us).

4) We rarely patronize traditional entertainment venues, such as bars, movie theaters, bowling alleys, and so forth, although we do like to find honest restaurants and I love me a classic festival with vendors and carnival food (fortunately, southern Appalachia has many!). I'll take a scenic mountain backdrop, clear flowing river, or flowering meadow any day over cultivated entertainment.

5) We were prepared to trade off common conveniences, such as indoor laundry, automatic dishwashing, and supermarket prepared foods, for independence in the form of hand-washed and line-dried clothes, good conversation while washing and drying dishes, and growing, hunting, and preserving food that comes from our own land. One convenience that was still essential to us, however, was decent communications, and although we don't have a land line for DSL or cable internet at the holler, we plan to use our cell phones as hot spots for our internet connection (we haven't had much luck finding a device that boosts our signal enough, but we haven't given up hope yet).

6) Utilities had to be inexpensive, and we wanted to be able to explore alternative energy and waste options, such as composting toilets, solar capture, and rainwater catchment.

7) While no one wants to live in a high crime area, petty crime is a lot different than violent crime, and we understood that petty crimes, such as thievery and drug use, generally accompany poor areas as a result of desperation. We were really not concerned with being able to defend our homestead if the need ever arose. And being a good neighbor goes a long way in rural areas since people are more likely to keep an eye out for you when you treat them with respect.

8) Plentiful and decent paying jobs are usually the biggest concern for most folks. In our case, we are intentionally slowing down, simplifying, and embracing frugality in exchange for independence from the financially-fueled world. Expenses are still very real, but our goal is to diversify our income stream using our current skills, decrease our spending substantially (not having kids makes that a lot easier), and attempt to live off our land as much as possible. Jay and I feel pretty confident that we will be able to keep food on the table, a roof over our melons, and maybe have a little fun money to spare. Only time will tell how successful we are, but this is not something new, and many people have successfully transitioned from full-time employment and high-expense households to voluntary simplicity.

Inserting a picture here to keep your attention in case you're bored outta your mind with my ramblings.

Hancock County is the poorest county in Tennessee and the 27th poorest county by median income in the United States (as of 2010). In order to be able to try out each income-producing pursuit that we've tossed around and find the one(s) that work best, we've decided to start saving now and hope to have enough of a nest egg to cover our mortgage, utilities, and food requirements for two years once we move to the holler. We have no other debt than our mortgage, and not having to worry about basic living needs should allow us to focus our energy on building our income survival base, and when the time comes to start living off our income instead of savings, we'll be able to transition relatively easy.

There's always the possibility that we will fail miserably at all our money making pursuits and end up working at the local fast food joint, but even if that happens, we should still be able to survive.

I can't find the link, but I read somewhere about the benefits of buying in an economically depressed rural area, a few of which include: low property tax rates (due to few services), a strong sense of community (everyone has gotta band together to survive), inexpensive property, a small population density ratio, and a general freedom to do whatever you want (as long as you're not negatively affecting anyone else). I find this last benefit the most interesting and applicable to homesteading life.

Few restrictions means that you are able to make your land work for you instead of the other way around. More specifically:

• Growing food in the form of vegetables and meat instead of buying someone else's (your garden doesn't have to be pretty to impress the neighbors - but it probably will be anyway!)
• Harvesting precious water, either by spring/creek/river, ponds, or rainwater catchment, instead of paying a utility company.
• Harnessing solar power for the use of modern electric conveniences and eventually perhaps disconnecting from the grid.
• Collecting downed trees and growing new ones for firewood.
• Using animals and their natural instincts/skills for homesteading chores (goats for clearing, pigs for tilling soil, dogs for protection, cats for rodent control, and so on).
• Using wildlife to sustainably fill your freezer and keep the local ecosystem in check (aka, deer population control).
• Caring for your land in the manner that works best for your family and the critters that help make survival possible.
• Caring for your neighbors and the community at large by sharing your excess goods when possible and helping those in greater need than you.

Let's all say a collective "Awwww!"

Still with me? Awesome possum.

Now granted, you could probably do a lot of these things in a better economic suburban or even urban setting, but being out the sticks has one huge advantage: people leave you alone (for the most part). Unless you're being an ass about something, no one cares what you do. They don't mind your ugly new DIY solar contraption (since they can't see it), your barking dogs (you're far enough away from them after all), the [insert farm animal here] that occasionally escapes their confines (since you'll probably share the bounty with them at slaughter time), a few gunshots here and there (venison anyone?), the occasional burn pile that may have questionable burnable items, or the pick up truck that finally bit the dust and has now become yard art. They might even get a chuckle out of your attempted homesteading projects and aspirations and decide to help you out when you can't figure out how to milk your new goats. But the bottom line is that I see the above attributes as essentially helping one to become financially and socially independent (to a certain degree), and that is a very important goal to Jay and myself.

We bought a property that spans an entire box canyon all the way up the mountain for a few reasons, two of which I've already mentioned: privacy and defensibility. I realize the latter sounds a bit paranoid, but I don't want to have to get another landowner's permission in order to be able to fend off zombies in the coming apocalypse. Kidding! sorta

Privacy is paramount as well. I want to be able to take a pee right there when I'm in the middle of a gardening chore, skinny dip in our to-be-dug-in-the-future pond, hoard supplies for future projects without worrying about neighborhood aesthetics (in a tidy and organized manner of course), and have a place to bury the bodies. Kidding again! yes, I really am this time

All this is a really long-winded way of saying that we know we're weirdos and have strange aspirations that might not jive with societal expectations, but there is a rhyme and reason to our thinking, and I hope that maybe others out there can be inspired to think a little differently when it comes to determining what is important in life. This is all new to us, and I may read this post five years from now and chuckle at our naïveté, but hey, life is an adventure, and it would be pretty boring if everyone wanted to live in picture perfect neighborhoods, drive new cars, and spend eight hours working for someone else every day (which both of us do now, by the way).

Mitsy thanks you for reading through to the end by rewarding you with an image of some yard art.
Junkyards can be hauntingly beautiful, you know!

how to fund travel to your land before you move onto it

I hate paying for airfare.

And in all honesty, considering the way airlines go belly up and are so poorly managed, I don't think they make much money on even first-class seating let alone crappy coach tickets. But that doesn't make it any easier to enter my credit card information and hit the buy button when I want to go somewhere.

I think I was born in the wrong era. I fantasize about the glamour age of air travel, where pretty stewardesses in mod sixties uniforms took pride in their occupation and made being stuck in a steel tube for several hours actually enjoyable (back before they were labeled "flight attendants". hello BORING). Now I realize that there was a lot of sexism back then and a lot of women were probably mistreated by sleazy businessmen and not everything was all hunky dory, but I want good service dammit. I want something edible, and I want a decent cocktail.

So this presents a problem for a nomad like me that likes to travel. I like to drive, too, but when planning a vacation where I just want to relax, or have limited time, or, hmmm, want to maybe scout some property out of state, a road trip isn't ideal. Paying for airfare, motel, and car reservations can get expensive fast. That's how I found out about credit card sign-up bonuses.

Honest, I'm not selling anything. I just think beating the system is rad and want to share: I just booked two first-class tickets for Jay and me to the homestead for a whopping $170 ($85 each). Let me explain.

Credit card companies love to give you sign up bonuses in the form of either miles or points when you spend a certain amount on a new credit card within a designated time frame. Case in point: I applied both of us separately for a Chase card that would automatically post 50,000 points to our individual accounts after spending $3,000 on each card in 92 days. Those 50,000 points can be transferred to a number of travel vendors, like Continental or United or Avis or whatever, at a 1:1 ratio.

50,000 miles on Continental can get one person a first-class ticket across the U.S. with only one short layover and decent arrival and departure times if you're good at searching for fares.

We also got a Citi card for each of us that delivers 50,000 points after a $2,500 minimum spend in 90 days. Those points are not transferable to anywhere else, but you are able to book car rentals and hotel rooms through their shitty reservation site. About 48,000 points is enough for a Jeep Grand Cherokee rental for a week as well as one night at a crappy hotel next to SFO that offers free parking for up to seven days so we don't have to beg anyone to drive us to and pick us up from the airport.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

If I were to book a first-class ticket for both of us with the same itinerary, the same car rental, and the hotel room and pay for it with cash, do you know how much it would cost?

$2,202.30 per person x2
= $4,404.6 for both of us
+ $383.18 for the Cherokee rental
+ $96.65 for the crappiest room at the Vagabond Inn next to SFO with free parking
= ALMOST $5,000

That's insanity! Even if we sat in shitty coach seats for the same itinerary, the whole trip would cost $902.13.   With 50,000 miles, you could conceivably book two coach tickets if you didn't want to apply separately for whatever reason. Why you would pass up another 50,000 miles and first class is beyond me, though.

There are a ton of online discussion boards and blogs about this, too, if you have the time to devote to learning more about credit card churning, which is what they call it. This is a legitimate way to get virtually free travel as long as you're not a total idiot when it comes to paying your bills.

There are, however, some caveats:
1. You must have excellent credit (in order to qualify for so many cards).
2. You'll probably need to put all of your everyday spending on a card in order to meet the minimum spend requirement (unless you're just filthy rich, in which case you might as well just pay cash).
2. You must keep track of said credit card spending and make sure you pay off your balances during the grace period to avoid interest.
3. A lot of these cards waive the annual fee for the first year, but you have to remember to cancel the card by your anniversary date or else you'll be charged for it.
4. You must be willing to take the ding on your credit from each new application. This is usually only a few points. Your credit score will usually go back up a few points after you start spending on the card and pay it off right away because it shows that you have a lot of credit but little to no credit card debt.
5. You have to be able to meet the minimum spend requirement, and most mortgages or utilities can't be paid with a credit card so be sure you're up for it.
6. Reward tickets can be kind of a pain in the butt to book. There are generally fewer itinerary options for rewards tickets, especially first-class ones, so you have to be flexible.

Y'all need to get on board with this. get it? LOLZ

So, if you want to fly classy and scout out property for your future homestead but don't want to spend an arm and a leg doing it, here you go. YOU'RE WELCOME.