Charminy Farm:: A Birds' Eye View

By Janet Bolton

Have you ever heard of a guinea fowl adopting a young boy and defending him from all threats? Would a cheese-loving crow that's an undercover packrat get your attention? Is a bearded Silkie chicken that enjoys watching All My Children on TV something you'd find intriguing? Then you might also like to hear about a vanload of show chickens that sing lustily along with the car radio only when it plays the song "Duke of Earl." Or how about the pony addicted to ice cream ... or the mama dog who kidnaps baby chicks. If you'd enjoy reading about these and other wild and domestic animals, you'd probably like my book, Charminy Farm: A Bird's-Eye View. This is a nonfiction book about my family's life on our small semirural farm in Wisconsin. Our family was involved in raising and exhibiting fancy poultry, dogs, and horses and in rescuing various forms of wildlife.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781496973702

Janet Bolton

This is my first written nonfiction work in book form. Much of the content has been verbally shared with people of all ages in various settings.

Book preview

AuthorHouse™

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© 2015 Janet Bolton. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,

or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 4/18/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7369-6 (sc)

       978-1-4969-7370-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015904092

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Contents

Chapter One: Calliope, The Guinea Fowl

Chapter Two: Rudy, The Blue India Peahen

Chapter Three: Baby Mallards, Surprise Orphans

Chapter Four: Gabriel, The Nubian Goat

Chapter Five: Smudge, Troy’s Christmas Cat

Chapter Six: Jasper, The Wild Crow

Chapter Seven: Woody, The Tree Frog

Chapter Eight: Lancelot, The White Peacock

Chapter Nine: The Lone Ranger & Other Raccoons

Chapter Ten: Sake, The Accident Prone Turkey

Chapter Eleven: B.J. Tartar & Sunkist

Chapter Twelve: The Barn Fire

Chapter Thirteen: The New Barn

Chapter Fourteen: Tasha And Cami, The Arabian Horses

Chapter Fifteen: Frosty Frappe, The Bichon Frise

Chapter Sixteen: Barn Improvements

Chapter Seventeen: County Fair 4 H Projects

Chapter Eighteen: Exhibiting At State Fair

Chapter Nineteen: Hatching Chicks At Home

Chapter Twenty: Brunhilda, The Black Standard Cochin

Chapter Twenty One: Chanticleer & Schaumtorte, The Standard Cochins

Chapter Twenty Two: That Angel Gabriel, Frosty’s Son

Chapter Twenty Three: Hatching Chicks At School

Chapter Twenty Four: Irma, The White Bearded Silkie

Chapter Twenty Five: A Change Of Exhibitor

Chapter Twenty Six: Paying Show Expenses

Chapter Twenty Seven: The Royal Society Of Layers

Chapter Twenty Eight: Moving On

In loving memory of my husband, Lynn, and for my sons, Eric and Troy and their families.

Introduction

I had grown up in my parents’ home on nearby Okauchee Lake which provided me with many recreational activities but did not allow for horses.

Wanting a place of my own, I began looking for a small farm with enough land to raise dogs and horses. In 1966 when I was a single twenty seven year old school counselor, I finally found my farm. It was a mile from the small village of North Lake and even my parents thought it was perfect for me.

I ran into a problem when the manager at my bank refused to give me a loan because I was a single woman, but then he relented when he discovered that I was a teacher. Teachers are notoriously stable he said in a rather insulting way, but still would only allow me a fifteen year mortgage instead of the thirty year one I was hoping for.

The farm was only twelve and a third acres, but it had everything I needed. A small spring fed creek ran across the bottom of the property near the road. On a hill above the creek sat a tiny one bedroom ranch house that was very sunny and in great shape. There was a small barn about the size of a four car garage further up another hill. Plenty of pasture and about six acres of woods sat on top of still another hill. I decided to name my new home Charminy Farm because it intimated a gentle cozy place and had a nice ring to it.

In 1971 I married by Spanish teacher husband, Lynn, who graciously accepted not only me but my farm with its resident menagerie. Two years later we were expecting our first child.

I drew up the architectural plans for a second story to our home which when built doubled its size. In time we landscaped what was once a long hill into a nice terraced backyard with an in ground pool for our growing family. A fire in 1984 destroyed the original barn and was replaced further up the hill by the present larger steel pole barn resulting in Charminy Farm as it looks today.

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Chapter One:

Calliope, The Guinea Fowl

I don’t know why Calliope chose Eric to be his own special boy, I just know that he did. It all started one spring morning in 1977 when Bev, a neighboring hobby farmer, called to ask if I needed anything from the local feed mill. Since I had just been there the day before I had everything I needed, but there was something else that I wanted. I had seen a brooder full of baby guinea fowl at the mill, and had toyed with the idea of buying some. At the time our rural farm was already housing two horses, four dogs, two cats, two peafowl, some tropical fish and of course our own family which now numbered four. Naturally I asked Bev to pick up two guineas for me and to drop them off on her way home.

An hour later she knocked on the door and entered carrying a brown paper lunch bag from which came the loudest most strident sound imaginable. I don’t care what you name the second one, but you gotta name this noisy one Calliope, she said as she handed me the bag. (A calliope is a harsh sounding musical instrument made with steam pipes and is usually associated with a circus or parade.) I carefully peeked inside the bag and discovered that all the noise came from a tiny beady eyed fuzzball that was smaller than my fist. The second guinea just sat there quietly blinking its eyes.

My four year old son, Eric, having heard the commotion came running in to see what all the fuss was about. He was excited to see these two little babies that had joined our family. After Bev left we took the two little chicks up to the laundry room and put them in the brooder that had been purchased in hopes of rearing future peafowl chicks. Three weeks later, these noisy guineas were moved to the barn to hang out with the rest of the critters.

As time passed, the guineas continued to grow and develop very interesting physical characteristics. They were gray in color with small white polka dots on their feathers. Each feather was an example of Mother Nature’s artistic handiwork as there was such a uniform display of these white dots. From the neck down, the guinea is truly quite an attractive fowl resembling many of the chicken illustrations found in children’s books. Such similarity ends abruptly at the neck. A guinea’s neck is encased in soft wrinkly white skin with a row of black bristly spikes running down the middle of the back. On top of the head is a single horny protuberance not unlike those found in baby goats. The guinea is further decked out in puffy red wattles with white speckling and a thin blue membrane which is suspended under its chin. This membrane enlarges on hot days and probably aids in cooling the bird just as panting helps to cool a dog.

These guineas developed their own set of idiosyncrasies. Take their evening roosting ritual for instance. At dusk they would fly to a low branch in the tall old cedar tree in front of the barn. Then for the next half hour there would ensue a noisy commotion not unlike two kids bickering over who gets the biggest brownie. First the guinea on the low branch would fly up to a branch slightly above that upon which the other bird was sitting. Then the second bird, insulted at the audacity of the first, would commence a prolonged shrill chattering unlike any other sound I have ever heard. When the first