Lemon Squeezy Farms

Tag: Chickens

  • August at Lemon Squeezy Farms: More Happened Than I Thought

    I can’t be the only one who sometimes feels like life just blends together from one day to the next and nothing really happens.

    Wake up. Go to work. Come home. Feed animals. Water something. Collect eggs. Do chores. Go to bed. Repeat.

    And then I stop and look back over an entire month and realize, Good grief. A LOT happened.

    This past month brought some pretty amazing moments to Lemon Squeezy Farms, along with one especially wonderful celebration that happened a few hours away from the farm.

    Celebrating 85 Years

    My family and I threw an 85th birthday party for my dad!

    Marc and I left the farm for a couple of days to spend the weekend celebrating with family. Moments like these have a way of making me stop and really drink in the day.

    My three sisters and I don’t get together nearly enough, but we worked together to make Dad’s celebration special. Everyone had a wonderful time, but most importantly, Dad had a wonderful time.

    At the end of the evening, one of my sisters asked him what he thought of his party.

    His response?

    “It was better than I could have ever imagined.”

    Even writing those words gives me chills.

    What a gift to have the opportunity to celebrate 85 years of someone’s life while they’re sitting right there, surrounded by the people who love them. It was one of those days I hope I never forget.

    Then Marc and I headed home, back to Lemon Squeezy Farms, where apparently everyone had been busy while we were gone.

    My dad, 85 years YOUNG!

    One Goodbye and One Very Pregnant Cat

    When we returned home, two things were confirmed.

    First, Walter was no longer around Lemon Squeezy Farms.

    Second, there was absolutely no question that Clementine was pregnant.

    I’m so sad that Walter is gone. He was the larger of our two kitten brothers. I even went back through their veterinary records and confirmed that Walter consistently weighed about half a pound more than Jesse.

    But Walter was also always more independent. He was a bit of a loner and more likely to strike out on his own, while Jesse tended to stay close to his mama and would come running to us when we were outside.

    I wish I knew what happened to Walter. Farm life sometimes leaves us with questions we don’t get answers to, and this seems to be one of them.

    Once Walter was gone, Jesse turned his attention to the only two options he had left: his mama…and us.

    Meanwhile, Clementine has obviously been making friends with one of the Toms from across the road.

    Initially, I felt a little bad for her. She’s young, and now she looks like a barrel with four little legs sticking out underneath her.

    But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited.

    I think those kittens will be here soon. The other night, I could actually see them moving inside her belly! Watching those little movements brought back memories of carrying my own children and feeling them kick, roll, and move.

    What an incredible miracle and privilege that is.

    As Clementine’s belly grew, though, she began pushing Jesse away. It was hard to watch, but nature knows what it’s doing. Clementine needed to prepare herself for her new kittens.

    And Jesse needed to grow up.

    Or…

    He needed to find someone with a particularly soft spot for ginger kitties.

    Meet Mr. Pom Pom, House Cat

    Lucky for Jesse, he picked the right house.

    I started noticing him hanging around our front door and then making his way around to the back. He’d jump onto the deck railing and show off his balancing skills. Every now and then, he’d start climbing the sliding screen door before apparently realizing halfway up that he’d made a terrible decision.

    Jesse has pluck.

    And I love that about him.

    One evening, he was sitting outside the back door, so I opened the sliding glass door just a tiny bit to see what he would do.

    Bit by bit, Jesse inched his way toward the opening.

    One paw.

    Then another.

    Across the threshold…

    And that was it.

    Jesse became a house cat.

    I gave him a good bath, and he has settled in like an absolute pro.

    Even Olive is being won over! Once the two of them figured out their relationship, they started playing together, hanging out together, and even napping together. The transition has been almost unbelievably seamless.

    Jesse, or Mr. Pom Pom, as I like to call him, will be neutered in a little more than a week.

    Yes. He will lose his pom poms.

    And that’s a good thing. 😂

    Clementine, meanwhile, is doing wonderfully. She sleeps in the barn and stays close to home. Marc and I have prepared a special space for her in the garage, a feline maternity ward, if you will.

    I know we could simply let her have her kittens in the barn, but I worry about the babies disappearing or something happening to them. Once Clementine has finished raising her kittens and is able to be spayed, she will be making a trip to the vet too.

    She’s such a sweet cat. She follows us around the farm supervising whatever we’re doing and is perfectly happy sitting beside us at the fire pit.

    Clementine is definitely a keeper.

    Jesse settling enjoying the comforts of home.

    We Finally Let the Broody Hens Do Their Thing!

    For the first time at Lemon Squeezy Farms, we let a broody hen complete the job from beginning to end.

    Not once.

    Twice!

    We’ve incubated eggs and hatched chicks ourselves, but we’d never stepped back and let one of our hens handle the entire process.

    Our first mama chose an unused doghouse as her maternity ward.

    And then one day…

    Poof!

    There were ELEVEN tiny chicks around her, underneath her, climbing over her, and seemingly everywhere at once.

    It was precious.

    Initially, we thought we’d gather the chicks and put them into a brooder.

    That plan lasted approximately until we discovered just how FAST free-range baby chicks are.

    We decided to leave well enough alone and let Mama do her job.

    And she did.

    For the next few weeks, those chicks stayed close to their mother. Two other hens even helped out, and Buckeye, our beautiful rooster, served as bodyguard and protector.

    Then one day we came home from work and saw feathers.

    Feathers scattered around the farm are rarely something you want to see.

    We immediately started trying to figure out who was missing.

    Most of the flock was bunched together, and then we noticed the gray shading of the feathers. We also noticed there were fewer chicks, and Buckeye was protecting those who remained.

    The next day, Marc found the remains of the mama hen.

    She was gone.

    And suddenly Buckeye wasn’t just the protector.

    He became Mama Hen.

    For about a week, he did a pretty remarkable job looking after those chicks.

    Then we came home one evening to another heartbreaking scene.

    Only two of the original eleven chicks remained, and Buckeye was gone.

    We followed a trail of his beautiful feathers through the shelterbelt and toward the cornfield to the south.

    Buckeye had been taken too.

    He was such a beautiful rooster, and when the situation demanded it, he stepped up and did a pretty darn good job of being a mama hen.

    Today, only one chick from that original group of eleven remains.

    I’ve named it Eleven.

    And you can bet I’m rooting for that little chick.

    Thankfully, our second broody-hen story has been much happier.

    Mama Number Two chose a particular bush that apparently met all of her nesting requirements and successfully hatched nine chicks.

    I’m very happy to report that Mama and all nine babies are alive, well, and accounted for!

    She seems to have a wonderful instinct for keeping her babies close and safe.

    Bravo, Mama Hen!

    Mama hen and a few of her chicks.

    Heat, Wind and a Struggling Garden

    This summer has been a hot one.

    It has also been WINDY.

    So windy, in fact, that I haven’t spent nearly as much time as I’d like in one of my favorite places on the farm: our fire pit.

    Between the heat, wind, and stretches without rain, my garden has struggled.

    The season isn’t over yet, but I’ll admit I’m disappointed.

    That’s okay.

    This winter I’ll have plenty of time to plan, rethink things, move things around, and decide what I want to do differently next year.

    Gardens are good teachers that way. Sometimes you get abundance. Sometimes you get lessons.

    For now, we’ll keep watering, tending, picking whatever decides to produce, and doing our best to close out the season strong.

    And if all else fails?

    We’ll limp across the finish line.

    That still counts.

    Six Good Girls Head Off on a New Adventure

    And then came another big change at Lemon Squeezy Farms.

    Last Friday evening, Marc and I did one final hoof trimming for six of our goats.

    We had found a somewhat local farmer who was looking to expand his herd, and six of our girls would be going to live with him.

    One by one, each girl got some extra attention as we trimmed her hooves.

    And while I worked, I talked to them.

    I told them what good girls they were.

    I told them they were about to go on an adventure.

    I told them they’d be okay.

    Do goats understand any of that?

    I’m not going to debate it either way.

    What I do know is that it makes me feel better.

    When each girl’s pedicure was finished, she got a few animal crackers, their favorite treat.

    The next morning, the farmer arrived with his trailer.

    I had already told Marc that I wasn’t going outside to help load them.

    I’m always grateful that he understands me well enough to understand why sometimes I need to sit these things out.

    So I watched from the kitchen window.

    And I cried.

    But then…

    I put on my favorite goat-roping hat.

    I slipped into my muck boots.

    And I went outside.

    There were three girls left to round up, and I decided I needed to be there.

    The farmer had brought his five-year-old son along, and that little boy was so excited about bringing the goats home.

    He talked to them.

    He fed them leaves.

    He was absolutely delighted with them.

    And somewhere in watching that little boy love on those goats, my heart settled.

    I could smile.

    These six girls were staying together.

    They were wanted.

    And they were heading somewhere they would be loved.

    So, from Lemon Squeezy Farms, thank you for the memories:

    Ruby.
    Moondance.
    Angelina.
    Poppy.
    Peaches.
    Rosie.

    You were six very good girls.

    And Then There Were Five

    With their departure, our goat herd has become considerably smaller.

    We now have one gentleman, Ward, and his four ladies:

    June, Fiona, Mabel, and Jill.

    Five goats.

    That’s it.

    Well…

    For now.

    If Ward understands his upcoming job description, we’re hoping for a busy kidding season next spring!

    And maybe that’s the perfect place to end this month’s update.

    At the beginning of this post, I said that sometimes it feels like nothing really happens. The days roll into one another, chores repeat themselves, and life can feel wonderfully, frustratingly ordinary.

    But then I look back.

    We celebrated 85 years of my dad’s life.

    We wondered where Walter went.

    We watched kittens moving inside Clementine.

    Jesse crossed a threshold and became Mr. Pom Pom, House Cat.

    Two hens became mothers.

    Buckeye became a mama hen when he needed to.

    We lost some.

    We welcomed others.

    The garden struggled.

    Six goats left our farm.

    And somewhere in the middle of all of it, Marc and I just kept getting up every morning and doing the next thing.

    Maybe that’s what life really looks like.

    Not one enormous moment after another, but hundreds of ordinary little moments that become something extraordinary when you put them all together.

    So here we are at Lemon Squeezy Farms, heading toward the end of another summer.

    A smaller herd.

    A pregnant barn cat.

    A new house cat.

    Chicks running everywhere.

    A garden we’re trying not to give up on.

    And two people continuing forward…

    One day. One chore. One animal cracker. One step at a time.

    “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”
    Ecclesiastes 3:1 (KJV)

    And around here, every season seems to come with a little manure on its boots.

    Until next time from Lemon Squeezy Farms. 🍋

  • Long Days, Green Pastures, & Grateful Hearts

    “You crown the year with Your bounty, and Your paths overflow with abundance.”
    Psalm 65:11 (NIV)

    It’s hard to believe we’ve already turned the calendar to July. Every year, this month feels a little extra special to me. Maybe it’s because I was born in July, but I’ve always felt July to be the very heart of summer. The days seem endless, the grass is impossibly green, and life feels just a little slower, even when we’re busier than ever.

    Marc and I have been keeping ourselves plenty occupied around the farm. June blessed us with a lot of rain, and while we’re certainly not complaining, it has left us with lush, fast-growing pastures and a lawn that seems determined to outgrow us!

    mowing one of our goat enclosures

    Just last night I finished trimming along our entire property fence line with our DR Trimmer. My shoulders are reminding me of every minute I spent behind that machine today! Even so, there is something deeply satisfying about finishing a job, stepping back, and seeing the difference your hard work made. Every sore muscle feels a little more worthwhile when you can admire the results.

    One thing we’ve noticed this year is how much more mowing and maintenance we have compared to last summer. With fewer goats and sheep, the change is not so surprisingly noticeable. It’s funny how you notice details like that once they’re gone. While we certainly miss some of the personalities that have moved on to new homes, this season has its own rhythm, and we’re enjoying it.

    Of course, summer on the prairie comes with its own set of challenges. Despite practically bathing in bug spray, I’ve still managed to collect enough mosquito bites to test my self-control! Meanwhile, we’re doing everything we can to help our animals battle the flies and mosquitoes too. Happy livestock make happy farmers.

    The animals continue to thrive. Poppy has officially graduated from bottle baby status and has been fully weaned for a month now. Rosie and Peaches have grown like weeds and are nearly as tall as their mama, Fiona. Watching those girls race around the pasture reminds us just how quickly the seasons change.

    Our barn cats have settled in beautifully as well. Clementine and her two boys, Walter and Jessie, have made themselves right at home exploring every corner of the farm. Clementine has become my little mowing companion and often follows me as I trim along the perimeter fence, supervising every step as only a farm cat can.

    One of my favorite things about North Dakota summers is the daylight. Last night Marc and I worked outside until after 9:30, and it never once felt rushed. Those long evenings are a gift. They allow us to finish one more project, take one more walk through the pasture, or simply stand quietly and admire the animals before calling it a day.

    And then… today happened.

    I came home from work expecting an ordinary evening of chores. Instead, I wandered over to an old dog house where one of our hens, affectionately known as Broody Judy, has been faithfully sitting on a nest she made herself.

    As I peeked inside, I was greeted by the sweetest sight… five tiny little chicks peeking out from beneath their mama’s feathers!

    Our very first naturally hatched chicks!

    I’ll watch for more but wouldn’t put my hand in there right now!

    What an incredible surprise! There’s something extra special about watching nature do exactly what God designed it to do. No incubator. No brooder. Just a determined mama hen who patiently sat on her eggs for weeks and was rewarded with five fluffy little miracles.

    Needless to say, chores came to a complete stop while Marc and I admired our newest additions. Moments like these are why we love farm life. You can plan your day from sunrise to sunset, and then God delights you with something you never saw coming.

    After the long winter months, when chores felt endless and the cold settled into our bones, summer has a remarkable way of healing those memories. The green grass, warm sunshine, birds singing, healthy animals, and now five tiny chicks remind us that every difficult season eventually gives way to something beautiful.

    For now, we’ll gladly accept the sore shoulders, the mosquito bites, and the never-ending mowing. They’re small prices to pay for another July on Lemon Squeezy Farms.

    And thanks to Broody Judy, July just became even sweeter.

    Happy July, friends. ❤️🍋🐥

  • The Sale List, the Loading, and the Letting Go

    Friday evening, after a full workday, Marc and I stepped into a different kind of shift. The kind that involves mud on your boots, a good pair of gloves if you’re lucky, and a whole lot of determination.

    We had help from a really great friend and thank goodness for that, because what followed was part rodeo, part relay race, part comedy of errors.

    Six goats.
    Three sheep.
    Countless steps, quick turns, near misses, and the occasional “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

    We herded, chased, caught (and yes, sometimes missed), tagged, and finally loaded them into the trailer. By the end, relief settled in like a deep exhale. They were safe, settled, and ready for the night.

    After we sent our friend home, thoroughly worn out (and probably questioning his life choices just a little), Marc and I turned to phase two.

    Sixteen cages, prepped throughout the week.
    Thirty-one chickens, tucked in after roosting.

    That part? Almost peaceful. Quiet. Methodical. Choosing who would go where felt calm in a way the goat wrangling never could.

    By 11:00 PM, everything outside was done.

    And just like that, we were staring down a 3:30 AM departure.

    The Loudest Place on the Farm Isn’t the Barn

    It’s your own head.

    Because somewhere between loading trailers and making coffee before dawn, the internal dialogue starts up… and it doesn’t whisper.

    It argues.

    “I love this life.”
    “I hate this life.”
    “I’d give anything to sleep in.”
    “But look at that sunrise.”
    “You can do this.”
    “What are you even doing?”

    It’s a full cast of characters in there, and not all of them are kind.

    This winter pushed me in ways I wasn’t prepared for. There were moments I felt completely leveled. Brought right down to my knees.

    But here’s the quiet truth that showed up alongside that struggle:

    Every time I got back up… I stood up a little steadier. A little wiser.

    But no amount of wisdom would ease the weight of the hardest list I ever had to make. Making the sale list with Marc might have been the hardest part of all.

    Because if I try hard enough, I can make a case to keep every single animal.

    Especially the goats.

    Chickens are wonderful, but goats… they have a way of looking at you like they know you. Like they’ve been part of your story longer than they have.

    But reality has its own voice too.

    We only have so much space.
    So much time.
    So much energy.

    And at the heart of it, this isn’t just a hobby. We’re building something. Raising animals well… and letting them go well.

    That’s the deal.

    Understanding that didn’t make the decision easy.
    It just made it possible.

    The Sale Day I Couldn’t Face

    When morning came, I stayed home.

    Marc and our friend went to the sale together, and I knew that was the right call. Some days you can carry it. Some days you can’t.

    This was a “faucets would not turn off” kind of day. I was weepy.

    When Marc got home, he told me everything went smoothly. The animals did well. Things felt right.

    And then he told me a story I’ll keep tucked away for a long time.

    Our little Button stepped into the ring.

    People noticed her blue eyes right away, commenting on how beautiful she was.

    And then, from somewhere in the bleachers, a woman said:

    “Well, look at her… she’s cute as a button.”

    No one there knew her name.

    And somehow… they still got it exactly right.

    Some things don’t need explaining. They just are. 💛

    The Quiet After

    The past few days have felt… different.

    Quieter.
    Calmer.
    Like the whole farm took a deep breath.

    Maybe we all needed it… humans and animals alike.

    To the Ones Who Moved On

    Gandolph.
    Tulip.
    Nubbie.
    Bandit.
    Jack.
    Ma.
    John.
    Cheryl.
    Button.

    You left hoofprints on more than just the ground.

    Because of you, there were tears.
    And laughter.
    And lessons I couldn’t have learned any other way.

    Thank you for being part of this wild, beautiful chapter.

    Moving Forward (Even When It’s Hard)

    I keep coming back to a quote from Walt Disney:

    “Around here, however, we don’t look backwards for very long. We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and doing new things, because we’re curious… and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.“

    And so we keep going… a little lighter, a little wiser, and still willing to follow this beautifully messy road wherever it leads next. 🍋

  • Still Here, Just Catching Our Breath – Refocusing Life at Lemon Squeezy Farms

    There are weekends… and then there are capital – W Weekends. The kind that leave your boots by the door like they’ve retired and your muscles writing strongly worded letters the next morning. Out here at Lemon Squeezy Farms, Marc and I just lived one of those.

    First, the great hen house reset… it was time. Time to face the deep litter. If you’ve ever used the deep litter method, you know it’s a bit like a slow-building novel that ends in … a very intense final chapter. All winter long, our chickens do what chickens do, and we layer bedding over it, again and again, letting nature do its warm, composting magic. No heat lamps here, just hardy birds and a system that works with them, not against them.

    But spring? Spring calls the bills due. So out came the masks, the rakes, the shovels… and a level of determination that can only be fueled by fresh air and stubbornness. While we were at it, we tackled a pesky leak and reroofed the hen house, because apparently we enjoy adding “construction crew” to our resumes mid-clean out. And let me tell you something: There is nothing quite like that moment when you step back into a freshly cleaned coop. It’s like the whole place exhales… and so do you.

    Secondly, we’ve got goats on the move! Our barn residents were more than ready for their own upgrade. Poppy, our bottle baby Boer girl, along with Fiona and her sweet little duo, Peaches and Rosie, officially moved out into their goat space. The timing finally felt right. The air has softened just enough, and the sun has started to feel like it’s working with us again, well, when it decides to come out.

    Poppy wasted zero time making herself at home. New platform? Claimed. Big tractor tire? Playground. Open space? Sprint zone. She still shadows like a loyal little sidekick, but now with more room to bounce, leap, and show off.

    Fiona, ever the watchful mama, seemed relieved to stretch her legs and let the girls explore something bigger than stall walls. And slowly but surely, she’s softening toward Poppy. It’s not quite sisterhood yet… but we’re getting there.

    In about a week, we’ll bring the fainting goats into this enclosure too, turning it into their shared space. And as Poppy grows, she’ll eventually graduate to the larger area with Mabel, our other former bottle baby. These transitions always feel a little like watching chapter turn in real time.

    Thirdly, we’ve got fences down and plans up. We’ve stated something bigger… a full chicken restructure. That meant pulling fencing, removing runs, and reimagining how everything fits together. And can we just take a moment to appreciate the humble hero of the weekend? The t-post remover. That thing worked so slick it almost made fence pulling feel… fun. Almost.

    Fourthly, and finally, the part we don’t always say out loud. Here’s the truth tucked between all the projects and progress:

    This winter was hard.

    Not just the cold, not just the chores… but the weight of it all. The kind of season that makes you quietly wonder if you’ll come out the other side still loving what you built. Marc and I had more than a few heart-to-heart talks. The kind where you sit in the middle of it all and admit something isn’t working the way it should. Somewhere along the line, what we meant to build together started pulling us in opposite directions. That’s a hard thing to say out loud. It feels a little like failure. But maybe it’s not.

    Maybe it’s just… awareness. Adjustment. Growth with dirt still under your nails. So we’re making changes. Scaling back. Refocusing. Finding a version of this life that lets us not just run the farm… but actually live in it together. Because what’s the point of all this if we never get to sit down, breathe, and watch a North Dakota sunset side by side?

    As we look ahead, we’re sore. No question about it. We’re also proud. And a little hopeful. This weekend brings a sale, and with it, the bittersweet part of farm life. Saying goodbye never gets easy. There’s always that pull… wishing we could keep every animal, grow the herd endlessly, hold onto every story. But this isn’t just a hobby. It’s a rhythm of raising, growing, and letting go. And we’re learning to find peace in that too.

    For now, we’re catching our breath. Planning gardens. Dreaming up summer projects. Looking forward to evenings by the fire pit and keeping this little corner of the internet updated with all the life happening here.

    We make it through winter. We’re still here.

    And right now, that feels like more than enough.