One Beekeeper, Two Tiny Assistants, Three Hives and Only Four Stings!

A few weeks ago we received two requests from Los Osos (a small town in California) to remove hives.  Hive removal is much different than swarm removal.  A hive of bees is one that has settled down and made a home somewhere.  A swarm of bees is a big old ball of bees looking for a new home.  Swarms of bees are gentle and mellow and easy to relocate, but removing a hive of bees can be dangerous.  We asked for $50 for the price of a new bee box for each hive we would be taking home.  The two parties agreed saying, "We really didn't want to hire pest control to kill the bees."  How cool is that?  Glenn made arrangements to collect the bees on a Thursday evening.  We started at the dump in Los Osos where hives of bees like to make homes in gas wells.  Gas Well 11 contained a small, weak hive.

It was being attacked by ants and only had one comb of bees.

Oliver doubled as beekeeper and babysitter while I took pictures.  Glenn removed the entire hive with ease.

We moved on to Gas Well 13 where Glenn discovered a larger hive.  The hive was attached to the top of the gas well and broke off as soon as Glenn removed the cover.  The kids and I ran while Glenn stayed behind to do the dirty sticky work.

We all had our specific jobs during the removal.  Pearl's job was to eat handfuls of gravel and not cry while I took pictures of the bees.

Oliver's job was to assist daddy with angry, stray bees and test the honey for complexity and character.  I doubt Glenn could find a better hive removal team.

Hive number three was located in a residential neighborhood.  The bees made their home in a round valve box next to the street.

Glenn could tell it would be a difficult removal due to the number of bees hanging around the outside of the box.  Here is a picture of Glenn wishing he had a full bee suit.

Glenn finally manned up and got to work on the hive.  He kept saying, "I can't believe this," as he moved comb after comb out of the valve box.

He was stung dozens of times, but only three stings made it through his clothes to his skin.  Glenn waited until the sun went down, collected all of the bees in the back of his truck and headed home.

Hive number one did not make it, as we expected.  It was just too small.  Hive two and three are doing well and have adjusted to life in a square box.  Glenn's birthday present arrived in the mail last week.  Now when we go on our bee rescuing missions, Glenn will be covered by a full bee suit!

The "other side" of craniosynostosis surgery looks like this:

I belong to a support group of parents whose children have craniosynostosis.  Most of the parents post with glee, "We are on the other side!" after their child has survived surgery to fix cranio.  I understand the joy and relief of knowing that your child has made it through a major surgery, but I guess I wasn't fully prepared for what "the other side" truly means.  To me the other side meant Oliver would be free from his birth defect, have a normal, round head, and I would only have to think about craniosynostosis once a year at his check ups.  I have realized over the past four months that cranio is treatable, but not curable.  Oliver's skull is like the Earth's crust: constantly changing.  Ridges develop and then blend in while small bumps appear and recede.  One day his skull will look round and another day I will be worried about elongation.  I constantly analyze his head.  I keep thinking about the day my doctor finally mentioned Oliver could have craniosynostosis last November.  Oliver, Pearl and I walked to the park, and I called Glenn and my mom crying.  I watched Oliver playing with other children and noticed for the first time how unusual he looked.  In one way I think I was lucky.  For four years I looked at Oliver and saw nothing but perfection.  Had he been diagnosed at birth, I may have never known how that feels.

What does one do while she is waiting around to see if her son needs another major surgery?  Get involved!  Craniosynostosis has become my new favorite past time, a hobby even.  Ask me anything about cranio:  types of cranio, surgical techniques, risks or outcomes.  I think I could answer more than your average pediatrician at this point.  And instead of becoming victims of this birth defect, we are making every effort to make Oliver feel like he is a cranio warrior.  We are heading to San Diego in October to walk with Oliver and Shamu in support of kids with craniosynostosis.  Oliver keeps saying, "Aren't we so lucky that I have craniosynostosis because now we get to go to SeaWorld and I get to hold a sign?!"

Shamu and You Family Walk

It hasn't all been sunshine and roses with Oliver accepting his head.  His incision got infected and we had to shave his head.  People are now able to see his bumps and ridges and scar more easily and ask questions (which I welcome).  Oliver, on the other hand, is sick of talking about his surgery.  He doesn't even want to throw lightning bolts from his scar anymore.  He wanted to know why we didn't ask Dr. Fearon to make his incision wavy so he could spray water at people instead.  I made up a story about choppy water and we are cool again.   

Because Oliver is small and has an different head shape, we worry about bullying when he gets older.  Glenn and I were both small kids and dealt with occasional bullying.  Oliver has been interested in martial arts so we signed him up for a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu class.  The great thing about BJJ is that size does not matter.  A smaller opponent can take down a larger based on skill alone.  Oliver loved his first class!  

We found out that Oliver can fall gracefully:

And he knows how to avoid a pile-up.  Oliver is the joyful child in white near the end of the line.

So, that's where we stand with craniosynostosis.  I'll be back to post about farm life again soon!  Meanwhile, Oliver will probably be hiding under his favorite hat, and Pearl with either be eating or sleeping or doing both at the same time.  

The Quail that Never Hatched and Other Life Lessons

Here are some updates over the past two weeks:

The Great Quail Disaster 

Oliver has dreamed of being a quail owner for as long as he can remember (perhaps six months?).  One day, 35 porcelain-white eggs arrived unexpectedly on our doorstep.  Oliver thought all his prayers had been heard and answered.

We found out the quail eggs were included with the purchase of Glenn's new incubator (for his meat chicken project).  Glenn and Oliver loaded up the eggs and we began the 22 day wait.  On day 21 we could hear chirping coming from the eggs.  Oliver kept begging, "Can we help them out?"  We told him we had to let the chicks figure it out for themselves.  We waited and waited, and could only see small cracks on one side of several of the eggs.  

Finally, two chicks arrived and we were sure the rest would come in the morning.  I went to check the incubator the next morning and noticed none of the chicks had hatched.  Glenn figured out he put the eggs in the incubator the wrong way.  Grammy called to let us know she read online that one should begin to help the chicks emerge if they had not done so after 24 hours of peeping.  My heart dropped when I heard that news because it had been well over 24 hours since we first heard the chicks.  I began carefully opening the eggs with the cracks to find little dead chicks.  It was a terrible experience, knowing I could have saved the chicks if only I had listened to Oliver and helped them out the day before.  Here is a picture of one perfect chick who never had the opportunity to see this world.

Out of 21 eggs with a crack mark, I found five still living.  I opened up those eggs to free the chicks' heads and let the chicks do the rest.  Two ended up dying from their deformities.  It was a very sad afternoon.

Now we are left with five healthy and adorable quail and one keet (guinea fowl baby).  The keet thinks she is a quail and the quail think she is mommy.  We are happy some of the quail survived, but I can't help thinking about all of the others that didn't make it.  We learned several big lessons about incubating eggs, but did so at the expense of all of those quail chicks.

New to the Farm

In addition to the quail, frogs, and keet, we welcomed another pet to the farm in June.  Shelby, a Russian tortoise, was living in an aquarium much too small for her.  My mom offered to let Shelby live out on the farm, with chickens, in a large enclosure outside.

This is Shelby's new home.

Oliver can't believe his good luck.  Apparently he has always wanted a tortoise, too.

We also have a new friend living out in our water overflow.  Oliver named him "Muchacho" and we enjoy listening to his loud calls at night.

Water Park

Grammy and Pop treated us all to the water park for our June birthdays.  We had a great time and I learned a couple of things about myself.  First, I think I like frilly, pink tutus.  And second, I'm getting old.  I must be getting soft in my old age.

Oliver picked out Pearl's bathing suit at Target.  I saw it and said, "No."  He convinced me to take Pearl to the dressing room to try on and compare my cool orange suit with his pink tutu suit.  Before I had a girl, I said I would never dress my daughter in girly things; I would try to keep it more gender neutral.  I've changed my mind.  Look at her in that pink tutu suit.  She looks like a pink dream (complete with drool).

Oliver asked me to go down the "toilet bowl" ride because he thought it would be funny to watch me go down the bowl.  I rode it once and could hear his squeals of delight as I was dunked into the water.  Later, he asked me to do it again.  I wanted to hear those squeals again, so I agreed.  Then I agreed to ride the "wedgie" slide.

Never. Again. Today every single muscle in my body is sore.  I started the day off with 800mg of Ibuprofen and still had to limp around all day.  I guess I can't just throw myself down water slides anymore.  I'm going to have to hand that torch over to Oliver.

   

A Simple Gift

This year we decided to go small for Oliver's birthday.  We told him he could pick out one toy from Target.  Yesterday we went to Target and Oliver had a great time scanning the aisles.  He finally spotted his dream toy: a frog habitat.  I was happy Oliver picked an animal habitat rather than a weapon, but I was slightly weary about adding another pet to the mix.

Glenn and I assumed we could catch a tadpole outside, watch it turn into a frog, then release it back into the wild. We agreed to buy the habitat.  When we got home, I opened the habitat and read the instructions.  The instruction manual said we would be very bad people if we went out into the wild and stole a little tadpole (they may have worded it differently).  Instead, we would have to buy one of four different frog species or tadpoles.  Glenn did some research and found a low-maintenance frog to buy.  My mom got on board and offered to buy the frog for Oliver's birthday.  This is the fire-bellied toad (it is called a toad but it is really a frog) we decided to buy.

Off we all went to the pet store this morning to buy a seven-dollar frog.  First we discovered we would need to provide the frog with a heat source, so Grammy offered to spring for the 13 dollar bulb.

Then we asked about frog food.  Our frog would need to feed on three to five live crickets a day.  Each tiny cricket would cost us 12 cents.  TWELVE CENTS (and that is with the Petco card discount).

Not only do we have to buy these little creatures every couple of weeks, we have to feed and house them as well.  We added cricket food to the bill.  I set up our empty aquarium with cricket food, water and amenities.  Cricket watching is almost as enjoyable as frog watching.

Pearl was determined; if she wasn't going to be able to eat a cricket, at the very least, she would sample the cricket food.

We found out fire-bellied toads like to live with other frogs, so we purchased two instead of one.  Welcome to the family Prince Zuko and Princess Azula.

These frogs have a life span of up to 15 years.  I shudder to think of all of the crickets we will have to purchase in that time.  Plans are also being developed to increase the habitat size.  I believe this is the most elaborate simple gift I have ever purchased.  Happy Birthday to our sweet boy.  You are worth every penny.

The Milk Man

As a midwife and breastfeeding mom, it is slightly annoying to be married to a man who thinks he knows more about lactation than I.  For example, when Pearl was a few weeks old, I tried to hand express some milk into a bottle for her.  I was filling the bottle drop by drop when Glenn walked over and saw my technique.  He rolled his eyes and said, "Can I just do that for you?"  I turned my back to him but still had to listen to his comments.  "No, start closer to the top, then move down.  You have to squeeze the nipple now."  For those of you who don't know Glenn, he really isn't a pervert.  He has just been milking sheep at a local dairy for the past four years.

Now that we have two lactating goats, everyone here on the farm has had a chance to learn how to express milk.  Oliver and I learned together, each taking on one teat.  We managed to add a little milk to the bucket before Serio ran out of grain and became restless.

Glenn had us step aside to finish the job.  He moved so quickly and gently; the bucket was half-full before Serio even had a chance to complain.  All I could think was, "Wow, I truly am the luckiest woman alive.  My husband can milk a goat like a champion."  Even Serio was impressed.  Just look at her expression.  Glenn is so good, we have all decided he should get up each morning to milk the girls.  You don't want to waste a gift like that.

We have been enjoying the fresh milk and keep finding new ways to consume it.  Below you can see Pearl eating some delicious goat cheese that Grammy and Glenn made over the weekend.  Oliver loves to have his daily glass of goat milk.  It tastes so much better than milk from the store.

This morning we decided to make yogurt.  First, Glenn collected a couple of quarts from Leche.  We measured out the proper amount.

Next we put the milk on the stove to heat it to 185 degrees.  This ensures that the milk is more sterile when we add the cultures to it.

After the milk cooled to 112 degrees, we added the yogurt culture (a mix of two bacteria).

We then placed the milk in an ice chest with a heating pad.  It will stay there for the next six hours.  We hope we will have some yogurt to try tomorrow morning!

My next goal is to try to make soap for The Beneficial Bee skin care line.  We have several jars of frozen milk waiting for the moment when we decide to take on that challenge.  Thank you to Serio and Leche for providing us with all of this beautiful milk!

Bear Attack!

After a long night of barking and loud bangs, I can now confirm we have a large black bear on the property.  Monday morning was spent collecting evidence, clearing bodies and building barriers.

After analyzing each bit of evidence (eye witness and forensic), we were able to piece together the night of "bear terror."  We believe he started on my parents' side of the property.  A barbecue earlier in the evening may have attracted the bear to their trash cans.  The bear left hind footprints in the mud as he stood to knock over the garbage.

After eating some fish, our bear went to check out the chicken coop.  Here you can see he tested the front door with his paw, then put his front paws on the roof of the coop to peer in.

Our hens are old, tough broads.  They were more excited about the chicken food the bear had strewn about the yard than their near death experiences.  

Pooh then walked over to our side of the property to check on his friends, the bees.  This is where our bear had the most fun.  He devoured tons of bee larvae and left the adults hanging on for dear life.  The number of dead bees on the ground was staggering.  The bear had to have been stung countless times.  

I called Glenn at work to tell him about his bees.  He rushed home to try and save all of the bees he could.

The bees were loud and angry, but Glenn was only stung once.  Here is a picture of some brood that was devoured by the bear.  Glenn built a fence around his hive and we are hoping the bear won't be able to knock it over.  It will be a miracle if Glenn's girls survive this attack.

A neighbor called to let us know he saw a bear trying to get into his house the same night.  The neighborhood is now on high alert.  We are all hoping that the bear wanders back into the woods.  In the mean time, we are keeping the chickens locked up tight and have Lotta keeping the livestock safe!