Rubber, Meet Road.

I don't work out to stay lean, or look hot, or even for the undeniable health benefits. Those are perks. The real reason I work out is so I can run my farm.

There's a 55-foot flatbed parked on my upper driveway. It towers with 6 rows of tightly packed bales of Oregon hay. The bales average 98 pounds -- 17 pounds under my own bodyweight -- and the load totals 16.2 tons.

My mission is to unload the bales from the trailer and re-stack them, 6 to 10 high, for winter storage. This must be done by early next week, so the trailer can make another trip across the border and return with another 9 tons.

It's a hell of a workout. Wrestling those bales into place takes me, singlehanded, about an hour per ton. I try to move about 3 tons in a day. The effort compares to the same time spent on a heavy lifting workout -- a bit more variety, no breaks between sets -- but it's similar. Plenty of real-life deadlifts, bent-over rows, front squats, and lunges. Throw in some sled dragging. And do it all in an enclosed space so full of dust and pollen that you have to wear a mask to keep your throat from closing up.

A while back, I wrote that fitness is choices. And it is.

But fitness is also the ability to do the job that needs doing, brutal though it may be. And I have it.

If friends stop by to help, it'll be much appreciated. The job will be done faster, and I can get back to training horses. But they probably won't, and that's okay. I can handle it. It'll work out because I work out.

And that, my friends, feels pretty damn good.

Make Way for Ducklings

I let the ducklings out of their nursery on Saturday. They now have the run of the indoor section of the main duck pen (but not the outdoor duck playground, which isn't cat-safe). The indoor section is about 12' x 5', mostly covered, with plenty of shelter from the wind. And, it's adjacent to the nursery pen so the ducklings can still get under their heat lamp as necessary.


They're huge already! At only about 2 weeks of age, they have more than quadrupled in size, and the 16 of them plow through over a quart of 20% protein flock-raiser mash daily. I have to play close attention to their water supply, too, as they must have it to keep their bills clear of debris, and they splash and drink plenty.

Here they are exploring the new digs. They particularly enjoyed the few tufts of grass that survived the duck-pen construction project.


Ironman has left town for a few weeks. (He has a cooler job than I do.) By the time he gets home, the first of the Pekin drakes will be nearly ready for slaughter. I've never cooked duck before, but understand it must be done properly for good results. Time to start reading up on the subject -- I'll keep you posted.

Sheer Quackery

Are these not the cutest things ever?

They'd better be, because they're a bloody nuisance! I spent more time last week than I care to admit chasing loose ducklings around my master bathroom. The little buggers may be only a few days old, but they're quick -- and good heavens, can they scream when separated from their buddies!

As you might expect, I have a better reason for raising a flock of ducklings than cooing over their downy wings and teeny, duckbilled yawns, or even the adventure of midnight duckhunts involving reaching around one side of the toilet while attempting to block any escape route with a convenient trash can. No, Ironman and I have decided to raise ducks for eggs and meat.

Duck eggs are slightly larger and higher in cholesterol than chicken eggs, and their shells have a smoother, waxier appearance. (I know this because we bought a dozen from the local co-op to make sure we liked them before investing in duck housing and stock, which totaled about $300.) They taste quite similar -- perhaps a touch milder and richer -- but the difference is as subtle as that between the eggs of chickens on different diets.

As for the meat, well, I'm all for any option that will spare me conventionally raised products. Unfortunately, for reasons I discussed long ago in this post, our ducks will still eat a fair amount of grain, though I'll do my best to get some real food down their gullets as well. At least they won't be pumped full of antibiotics.

After doing some homework on duck husbandry and deciding to go ahead with the project, Ironman and I built a duck shelter and playground next to the chicken coop and chicken yard. (I think it turned out pretty well, myself!)


Next, we stopped by a local hatchery for a box of ducklings. Because ducks are only sold straight run (not sexed), we had to buy extras in order to ensure that we'd get enough females to keep for our breeding flock of 8 or10 ducks and 2 drakes. The extra drakes will make some lovely meals in 9-14 weeks. (Sorry, boys.)

I selected breeds based on the characteristics that were most important to us: egg production, meat quality, and mothering instinct. The yellow ducklings are Pekins. They'll grow into white-feathered adults that are large, quick-growing meat ducks. The brown ones are Khaki Campbells, which are renowned for their egg laying capacity -- up to 300 eggs per duck per year! The ones with striped faces are Rouens, which are good egg layers and reliable setters to boot. They'll be responsible for raising future broods.

We bought six of each breed, but two of the Rouens didn't make it. One died within hours of leaving the hatchery; the other held on for a few days but eventually succumbed. I'm not certain whether this is because Rouens are a more delicate breed, or because the Rouens we bought were a day (or even a half-day) younger than the others and couldn't quite compete. Thankfully, the remaining four are doing swimmingly.

Speaking of swimming, there's no question that these guys know they're waterfowl. They certainly love fouling their water! Ducks have no choice in the matter, actually; they require water-sloshing to clear their nostrils and throats of sticky food-mash. Nevertheless, this tendency was a bit of a problem during the few days they lived in (and sometime out of) a blue wading pool in my bathroom. Try as I might, I could not keep their pine-shaving bedding dry for more than an hour at a time.

So, they're outside now, in a 3x5 foot, cat-proof section of the duck pen. I put them out there yesterday after much internal debate regarding whether they'd be able to handle the lower temperatures and spring winds. They're only six days old, after all, and haven't the benefit of Mama's toasty underbelly to keep them warm.

The 250-watt heat lamp proved sufficient, however. I checked on them this morning, after a windy night in the low 30's, to find them yawning and preening, stretching their tiny, web-footed legs, and looking sweeter than any chocolate duck that ever found its way into my childhood Easter basket.

Betcha they'll be just as tasty, too.

(On the subject of tasty poultry... I finally have my desktop computer fixed, which means I can edit photos again, which means that I was able to upload a photo of my Hottie Hen with a Pig Pizza -- recipe and photo here.)

In the Night Gym

Farm life is good for keeping a body in shape. A few equines, ovines, canines, and felines, with a side of gallus domesticus, will keep you moving enough to maintain a basic level of fitness (though not necessarily leanness, which is more heavily influenced by diet than by exercise).

When I took up bodybuilding last March, however, it was with something more than the daily work in mind. Something like this:


That is 16.83 tons of hay. It can't stay on that trailer all winter. Somebody has to move it. Welcome to In the Night Gym.


I spent about five hours yesterday in a state of intense gratitude for every squat, lunge, push-up, pull-up, Roman chair, plank, and renegade row I've pounded out in the past few months. This is what it's always been about: Functional strength -- having what it takes to do what needs to be done, efficiently and without fear of injury.


I took care to eat a few extra carbs (in the form of sweet potatoes, dried fruit, and a banana, which brought me up to about 200g, vs. my usual 150-175g...and the fattening, American standard of 300-400g), and was amazed by my consistent energy level. This is exactly what the primal people said would happen as I adjusted to eating low-carb. They weren't kidding!


Sure, stacking the 100-pound bales was still hard work. But it wasn't nearly as hard as last year. This year, I worked longer and harder, with less fatigue and -- to my surprise -- very little next-day soreness with which to contend.


Good thing...because 7 tons remain on the trailer. Looks like I'll be hitting the gym again today! Would you believe I'm actually looking forward to it?


...after a generous breakfast of Sweet Potato & Zucchini Frittercakes, that is.