Henny Penny Farmette

Happy New Year! What are you planning for your New Year’s Day dinner? Here on our Northern California farmette, we love a New Year’s meal of cracked crab, sourdough bread, and a crisp winter salad, but this year I think we’ll have duck instead.

Crab season in Northern California has been put on hold thanks to an unprecedented algae season. Our local Dungeness crab has become infected with domaic acid, a neurotoxin produced by the microscopic algae that can cause human illness and death. Testing continues until the crab is safe to eat.

In the meantime, crab is being imported to local stores and restaurants, but it is expensive. With other issues with salmon, sardines, shrimp, and tuna, a seafood shopper might turn to Safeway. The store now offers Fair Trade Certified seafood, in an effort to reduce the seafood/fishing industry’s human rights abuses. But if there’s crab, it’s not local.

There are many other options, but I wouldn’t mind a farm-raised (mind you, I don’t mean “factory-farm raised,” which I’m against), free-range duck for dinner. I was raised on a farm and my grandparents (who raised me for a period in my life) kept chickens, cows, pigs, and horses. Meat (like Boone County ham and, yes, pickled pigs feet) was part of our diet along with all the delicious vegetables and fruits my grandmother grew and in her various gardens and preserved in myriad ways.

Maybe the rest of our duck meal could include a winter salad with citrus, pears, goat cheese, and sugared pecans; roast potatoes, green beans, and a chocolate sheet cake. We’ve got sparkling cider and wine. That sounds pretty good, but it isn’t crab, which is really the meal with which we wanted to start 2016. So, I guess duck will have to do.

Nightmarish as it seems, I didn’t fear the hawk swooping down from the pine tree onto the fence. Nor did I worry when it perched next to the chicken run this morning.

A sharp-shinned hawk on top of a nearby pine tree keeps an eye on my nine chickens

The poor chickens, who have been visited by foxes and other predators of late, deserve to be safe. To alleviate my own worries about the eight young layers and Mystery (the old Cochin), I’ve stretched poultry wire over the top of the run and strategically placed sheets of corrugated aluminum over potential entrance holes that animals could climb down, dig under, or fly through.

The brazen sharp-shinned hawk wasn’t deterred to see me this morning, but it didn’t approach the top of the run because there is no entry point from above.

Just as quickly as the hawk had landed on the fence, it flew away. The chickens went back running around the enclosed run, testing their own wings as they usually did each morning after being released from the hen house.

My girls are heritage breeds, so retain the flying ability that has been bred out of farm-factory chickens that are meant to only to lay eggs or be sold as meat to consumers.

I’ve lost chickens before to predators and ending up crying for days. I take full responsibility for raising my animals in a humane and loving way and I protect them. It’s the best way. For me, it’s the only way.