Gardeners complain about the weather. There’s just no pleasing us. On a sunny, blue-sky day we’ll say, We need rain. When it rains we’ll say, The ground is too wet to work. This past winter gave us plenty to kvetch about, and much was valid. My hydrangeas died back to the ground (thankfully, though, shoots are coming up so I haven’t lost the plants.) The harsh winter caused a late spring. Trees are only now leafing out, well after they usually do. This has caused dire warnings for people affected by seasonal allergies. Usually, tree pollen comes first, and then comes the pollen from blooms. This year, it will be a perfect storm of both occurring together. Stock up on tissues now.

But, to be Pollyannaish* about it, there’s always an upside. That late spring has been a boon to one group of plants. Every springtime, I peer into a corner of my woodland, fingers crossed, hoping that the pink lady’s-slippers will reappear. These plants are finicky. They are almost impossible to cultivate as they require specific conditions of acidity, light, moisture and a fungus (!) in the soil, that is impossible to replicate in a greenhouse. (Please don’t purchase them at a garden center, as they were likely to have been dug up from the wild.) Although individual plants can live for upwards of twenty years, sometimes they don’t show themselves at all. Sometimes, they seemingly pick up their roots and traipse to some other corner of the forest.

This year all of the conditions were perfect, and because the trees have leafed out late, there’s a bright dappling of sunshine in the lady’s-slippers corner that seems to make them thrive. Instead of a half-dozen flowers, this year we counted over 25.

It’s such a good year for pink lady’s-slippers that this one decided to move away from the crowd.

They’re pretty from a distance, and so interesting up close.

The flowers lure in bees for pollination, but there’s nothing there for them to eat. As they exit, they pick up pollen, which they bring to yet another lady’s-slipper, as the scent and form is impossible for a bee to resist.

The lady’s-slippers in my front woodland will be gone by the end of the week. I’ll have to wait until next year to see them again.That is, if I’m lucky and the weather is just right.

Today, I have nothing to complain about. It rained overnight. My garden soil is just right. The sun is out. There’s a breeze to keep the mosquitos at bay. Yesterday, I stopped in at a local organic vegetable farm to purchase tomato plants. They’re going into my raised beds this morning. I have one of each of these varieties: Big Beef, Celebrity, Rutgers, Black Velvet, Plum Regal, Pineapple and Red Grape. Every one of these is new to me this year. Do you have experience with these tomatoes? Have a favorite that I missed? Every year I vow not to plant too many tomatoes, but I’ve room for one more. Which should it be? Let me know in the comments.

*For those of you unfamiliar with the term Pollyanna, she was a hero of children’s stories written in the late 1800s. Her optimistic worldview was, even back then, easy to parody. Being a Pollyanna means that you always (as the song from Spamalot goes) look on the bright side of life.

I post a mix of storytelling, daily observations, and chicken care advice here at HenCam. I haven’t written any serious animal health blogs recently, not because I’m not doing them anymore, but rather because I’ve been delving deeply into some issues. (As an aside, I want to thank everyone who contributes to what I do here at HenCam. When you purchase one of my books, or “buy me a cup of coffee” you enable me to take the time to think, research and write. I’m very grateful to you!)

Today’s post is important.

All animals have internal and external parasites. They look nasty and gross us out, but it’s a fact of life. Good animal husbandry accepts that they’ll be there, understands the life cycle of these pests, and manages housing and environment to minimize the load. We keep an eye on things. We make adjustments for weather, and the health and age of our animals. When parasites negatively affect our animals (lack of thrift, decrease in production, discomfort), we do something. In twenty years of chicken keeping, I’ve done a lot, but I’ve never administered drugs.

Guessing what is wrong with one’s flock is rampant, and on-line forums fuel the worry. As soon as someone sees runny manure, someone else yells, worms! Before jumping to conclusions and administering chemicals (some of which are legal for broilers but not laying hens), first make sure that these parasites are actually living in your birds. Take a fecal sample to your vet. Only once, in all of my years of chicken keeping, has the fecal sample tested positive, and that was for a low load of tapeworms. I adjusted my manure management, and my hens haven’t tested positive again.

I’ve done eighteen necropsies and I’ve only seen worms once, in elderly Eleanor. I found round worms in her intestine. There were only two. They had nothing to do with why she died.

Chickens that are healthy and are in a clean and dry environment, and eat a varied diet, rarely have parasite problems. Gail Damerow, in her book Raising Chickens, states that “under proper management, including good sanitation, chickens gradually develop resistance to parasitic worms.” She doesn’t cite a reference for that claim, but I do agree with her. It’s important to know that most parasites reproduce outside of the chicken – often in other bugs, and always in damp and dark surroundings. So, sunshine, manure management, cleanliness, and control of animals like beetles and cockroaches, can take care of almost all internal pest issues.

Still, there are times when there truly is a parasite infestation. Treatment is difficult. I know of no chemicals on the market approved for laying hens. That’s why I was surprised when I recently noticed a new product at my local feed store, Rooster Booster.

I was intrigued because the label claimed that it was legal for laying hens. The label also emphasized the “nutrient-rich” base. Was this a new herbal powder or supplement? I asked the store manager. He didn’t know.

I did some research. Hygromycin B is an antibiotic. This is not stated on the label. I guess we’re supposed to know. Or, perhaps the manufacturer hopes that we don’t? Many of us raise chickens to have a source of eggs not tainted by drugs. Since this is being sold at feed stores to backyard hen keepers, and is packaged as if it is a natural supplement (after all, it has vitamins and probiotics in the ingredients), I am outraged.

Hygromycin B was approved by the USDA in the 1980s, but, for business reasons, has been off the market for years. Well, it’s back on. A chemical trading website states: Hygromycin B , very safe de-worming drug, can effectively kill the roundworm of pigs, whipworm and chickens’ roundworm, and have antibacterial effect. And it also can be used for chicken feed. However, it goes on to report: The Hygromycin B is very toxic by inhalation, in contact with skin and if swallowed. It may cause sensitization by inhalation and skin contact. It has risk of serious damage to the eyes and limited evidence of a carcinogenic effect. Before use (sic) it, wear suitable protective clothing, gloves and eye/face protection. Do not breathe vapour and dust. Interesting how “very safe” and “very toxic” are in the same paragraph, and this from a website that is pro-chemical. There’s more, which you can read on this link.

Hygromycin B is a product that commercial growers use on an ongoing basis not only to control parasites, but also to increase productivity and reduce food costs. They feed antibiotics because without those drugs, their chickens would be sickly or die. They put it in their flock’s rations so that they can provide the cheapest of feedstuffs and still get a high volume of eggs. Those reasons don’t apply to my flock, and shouldn’t apply to yours. Let’s keep antibiotics off of our own properties and out of our own personal food stream.

Please share. Thank you.

Yesterday I had the perfect Mother’s Day. I spent it with all of the guys that I love – my two sons, husband and horse. Even the goat boys got a long and leisurely scratching.

I got flowers, too, and none required fussing or vases.

Some of the prettiest of the May flowers are low to the ground and small, but their delicate beauty shouldn’t be overlooked.

The Flowering Almond is at it’s peak. Another week, and this shrub will be unassuming and untidy. All of us have our moments of glory, some are more fleeting than others.

Daffodils and muscari are up in the front woodland. When the light hits them just so, they glow like stained glass.

I even got the promise of peaches.

It was a very good Mother’s Day.

One of the things that Tonka’s previous owner, Amy, taught him was perfect manners at the mounting block. Tonka stands parallel to it while I put my foot in the stirrup, swing my leg over his back and settle down into the saddle. He doesn’t take a step until I ask him to move off. This is a very nice behavior, as getting on a sideways shifting, nose in the air, scooting-off horse can at best be awkward and at worst dangerous.

Horses’ backs are built to carry weight. My 130 pounds isn’t a big deal to Tonka. However, a rider can and does interfere with a horse’s natural grace; many of us spend a lifetime learning how to ride in concert with our horses. But, you don’t have to be a perfect rider to sit quietly on your horse and make an outing enjoyable for both of you. That mutual relationship begins well before you are actually in the saddle and underway. You develop trust on the ground. Then, you set the tone when mounting. I’m careful getting on, because that first step into the left stirrup can pull the saddle against his withers (that’s the prominent bone rising at the base of the neck.) Using a mounting block is much more comfortable for him than if I were to haul myself up from the ground. Using the mounting block, I can step on and slowly ease myself into the saddle, careful not to thump down on his back. Since I purchased him in December, Tonka has stood quietly while I’ve mounted, and, as far as I can tell, has eagerly looked forward to our rides. How do I know this? I can’t read his mind, but I can read his body language. At the mounting block, Tonka is calm, and yet has an engaged expression, his ears forward, his mouth relaxed. A horse that is annoyed lays her ears back and wrinkles her lips. She swishes her tail. She swings her head. A dull horse that has given up, hangs his head and barely acknowledges his rider. Tonka is unfailingly pleasant and yet alert to all that is going on around him.

(In the photo below, I’ve almost dropped my gloves, but Tonka is unbothered by my awkwardness. He’s ready to get going, but is waiting for what I ask next.)

Last week Tonka’s good behavior stopped. He still walked calmly to the mounting block. But when I went to get on he stepped forward. I walked him back into position, started to put weight on the stirrup, and he swung his quarters out of the way. This wasn’t a one-time occurrence. Every ride that week started with this avoidance dance. Good behavior doesn’t always last. Had Tonka lost his mounting manners? All too often, the rider’s default with misbehavior at the mounting block is to whack the horse back into position, or to pull on the reins to back him up. It looks harsh, and it is. Those reprimands come from the belief that the horse is blowing me off. Even if you don’t know anything about horses, you’ve surely heard these things said about dogs. He knows how to come, says the exasperated owner, he’s ignoring me on purpose. Or, he knows not to get into the garbage and he’s doing this to spite me. Punishments ensue. Note that those negative thoughts are often couched in a way that insinuates that the animal is doing something to the human on purpose. That the animal knows better. That somehow the animal has an intent to do wrong.

I don’t see it that way. I believe that animals always have the intent to do right, at least in their world view and for their own needs. Taking the view that intent always comes from a positive place from the animal’s perspective removes any anger that I might have. Instead of retaliating, I ask, what can I do to make a behavior that I want fulfilling for both of us? I ask, does the animal truly know what I want, or is it not a solidly trained behavior? I have to ask, what is the “misbehaving” animal telling me? In this case, what was Tonka saying? His stepping aside at the mounting block made it clear that he didn’t want me on his back. My job was to figure out why. There were so many possibilities. Did he no longer want to be ridden? Was the new green spring grass calling to him and was more appealing than going out on the trail? I’ve started working in the ring, asking him to do the equivalent of stretching gymnastics. Despite my care to not overdo and to build his muscles up gradually, was Tonka avoiding this work? These were all valid questions, but way too complicated! Animals rarely look ahead like we do. What was bothering Tonka was in the here and now, at the moment of mounting. What had changed?

I checked Tonka’s saddle. A saddle that fits poorly can press on the backbone, or pinch the horse’s sides. Tonka’s saddle fit him like a glove. In fact, to make him even more comfortable I had recently bought a new girth, one made of soft neoprene and contoured to allow more movement of his elbows. When I tack him up, I first attach the girth loosely, and increase the tension only after I’ve walked him towards the mounting block. Before getting on, I buckle it up to the proper hole. A loose girth is dangerous because it can allow the saddle to slip sideways when riding. You’re taught to tighten the girth before getting on, and again afterwards, to make sure that it is secure. Do you see where this story is going? Poor Tonka, the new girth is stretchy, and I had pulled it too tight (something impossible to do with his other girth) which jammed the saddle down hard on his sides.

It took Tonka four days of moving away from the mounting block to finally get through to me that what I was doing hurt. A testament to his sweet nature is that he never became dangerous or rude. He simply kept trying to give me the message in the only way that he could. Sometimes I can be so dense!

Tonka is back to his good behavior only because I didn’t call what he was doing “bad.” I listened to him. Maybe next time when something like this comes up, I’ll be quicker to figure out what Tonka is telling me. In the meanwhile, I appreciate Tonka’s good manners. You never know when you’ll need a mounting block, or where it will be.

One reason that I hesitated to have a horse in my life again is the amount of time that that animal takes up. Rding is only part of it. Grooming, equipment care, and simply walking all the way out to the paddock and back, can consume hours. A 45 minute ride can easily use up most of your afternoon. But that’s not all. Yesterday was a stunningly beautiful, perfect spring day. It’s the sort of day that last year I would have spent in the garden. This year I spent it with Tonka. He’d had his second round of yearly vaccines in the morning, so I didn’t ride, but still went to the stable in the afternoon and hung out with him. I shampooed the winter grime out of Tonka’s tail. I hand grazed him – meaning I put him on a lead rope, led him to some good grass and stood around while he ate. There went the afternoon. It made me ridiculously happy.

But, the good thing about springtime is daylight stretches into evening.  When I got home, I did go out to the garden. The other good thing is that I’ve been tending this garden for eleven years. Some plants come up even if I’ve ignored them. Asparagus is a perennial and is harvested well before anything else is ready, which is right about now. My asparagus bed is tucked behind the big barn. I’ve glanced at it over the last couple of weeks, but saw little other than dirt and weeds. Asparagus is a really weird crop. A patch of ground, with what seems like nothing useful in it at all, suddenly sprouts spears. It’s only after harvest that the main plant emerges. Even better, after the harvest, you let the fronds grow up and die. You’re supposed to let it be. (I did weed after taking this photograph.)

It’s early days yet for asparagus, but I harvested enough for dinner. The first handful is so very, very delicious that all I do is wash, break off the tough ends, and steam. I don’t even put any dressing on the spears.

Later on, I’ll use the recipe from my Farmstead Egg Guide and Cookbook for Asparagus with Poached Eggs and Smoked Salmon. A photo of this is on the cover,

and I’ll also make Goat Cheese and Asparagus Custards (the recipe for that is in this article.)

I’m going back to the stable today, but I’ll find the time to get into the garden as well. The rhubarb is up and it needs to have compost tucked around it. I am so looking forward to rhubarb pie!