by Kelly Jones
Querida Abuelita,
This morning, Lupe helped me check on the eggs and rotate them. The temperature was a little too cold, so I turned it to “Increase” a tiny bit. And I forgot to read the hygrometer before I took off the lid. The humidity was too low, but maybe that was because I opened the incubator? I added some water, just in case.
“I can’t wait for your pollitos to hatch!” Lupe said.
I bit my lip. “But I need to have a place for them to live first. I said I’d have a coop ready for them, only…I don’t know if I can do it all in time. I already have to do all my chicken chores and egg chores, and school’s starting soon.” I’d been worrying about this since we visited Agnes’s farm.
Lupe thought about this, her face serious. Then she smiled. “Maybe you should have a work-party picnic at Redwood Farm.”
“But it’s not a community center or a church or a school,” I told her.
“You can have a work party at any place where there’s a bunch of work to do,” Lupe said. “You have lots of friends here. Don’t you think they’d want to help you get a safe place ready for your new chicks?”
I shrugged. “Everyone’s pretty busy.”
Lupe gave me a look. “Too busy for a picnic?”
“That’s different,” I told her.
“No it isn’t,” Lupe said. “We could have a picnic at your new farm, and we could have tools there in case people felt like doing a little work.” She studied my face. “Why don’t you want to?”
“I don’t want people to see it all messy,” I whispered. “What if they think I should have fixed it up by now?”
“Sophie. You’re twelve years old. You’ve owned that farm for what, a month? You are doing the best you can—better than most adults, I bet—but this is a big project. People will see that, and they will want to help. Why shouldn’t you let them?”
“I’m almost thirteen,” I told her.
“Right,” she said. “So you can be in charge of making sandwiches for everyone.”
I frowned before I could stop myself.
“What now?” she asked.
“We just…we don’t have a lot of money right now,” I told her.
Lupe nodded, serious. “I know,” she said. “But we don’t have to do fancy things. And you have a whole pantry of food at your other house that needs to be used before it goes bad. We can make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and let people know they’re welcome to bring something if they want to.” She studied my face. “You don’t have to decide now. Just think about it.”
I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
Lupe brought it up again when we were feeding my chickens. “What are the first things that need to happen at the other farm, so you can get things ready for your chicks?”
I sighed. “Well, blackberry bushes grew in the chicken runs, so there’s no room for chickens. And some of the wire mesh is coming loose. I’m glad Agnes’s friends are sending me eggs, because it’s not much of a poultry farm without any chickens, but right now I just have a lot of chicken coops that aren’t safe for chickens to live in. And I guess I need to do something about that really big lawn, so the chicks don’t get lost in it when they’re older and can go outside.”
Lupe put her hands on her hips. “Soficita, have you ever mowed a lawn in your life?”
I shrugged.
“Answer the question,” she said.
I didn’t look at her, but I answered. “No.”
She squeezed my hand. “Of course not. You never had a yard until you moved here. Do you know someone who knows how to do it? Or who has a mower?”
I thought about it. “Gregory would know what we need.” Lupe didn’t say anything, so I thought some more. “Violet would know how to do it. She’s helped Dad figure out a lot of things about this farm.”
Lupe nodded. “What do you think would have happened if your dad tried to do everything himself?”
I shrugged. “He did try, for a while.”
“How’d that work out for him?” Lupe asked.
I sighed. I was remembering Gregory’s face when he saw Agnes’s farm.
Lupe squeezed my hand again. “I know you want to do everything you can, just like your dad, Soph. But if you know that someone could help, and would want to help, and you don’t even ask them—well, are you really doing everything you can for your farm, and for your chicks?”
I didn’t answer.
But I know she’s going to want to talk about it again. Jane could fix that wire netting better than I could. I hammered some nails in school, but they didn’t always turn out like I wanted them to. My chicks will need a safe place to live. But I don’t want to see Jane’s and Violet’s and Ms. O’Malley’s faces looking just like Gregory’s, all sad because Redwood Farm isn’t the way they remembered it.
Te extraño,
Soficita
Tuesday, August 12
Mariposa García González
Heaven
Querida Abuelita,
This afternoon, Chris and Sam came over to meet Lupe. Chris wanted to see how the eggs were doing, and Sam told Lupe the way to the drugstore so Lupe could pick out a new color of nail polish for her first day of school.
After Lupe left, I asked Chris and Sam if they knew how to mow a really big lawn, like at Agnes’s farm.
“Did Agnes have a lawn?” Chris asked. “Or just a garden and fields?”
“You need a tractor for fields,” Sam said.
I know about tractors. Great-Uncle Jim had one, and Violet has been teaching Dad how to drive it. He doesn’t find it too easy yet.
But Chris was thinking. “A tractor, or sheep, or maybe goats. Or a riding mower—I bet her front field is pretty flat. Do you just need to cut the grass, or do you need it baled?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know what baled even was. I bet Dad doesn’t either.
“Can we go see it?” Chris asked.
So we rode to Agnes’s farm.
Chris studied the grass. “I think we could cut that with Gregory’s riding mower. I helped him cut his grass last summer, so I know how to use it—it isn’t hard, not like Jim’s big old tractor. And Gregory’s friend Mark wanted the grass clippings.” He grinned. “You’re going to love it, Soph—it’s so fun, even if it doesn’t go that fast.”
“Plus, it’s good practice for when you learn to drive a car,” Sam said.
Chris and Sam didn’t look sad like Gregory. They looked excited. “Can we see the rest?” Chris asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Haven’t you guys ever been here before? When Agnes was here?”
Chris shook his head as I led them back. “People didn’t really visit Redwood Farm. I’ve never been inside the gate before.”
“Why not?” I asked.
Sam thought about that for a moment. “Agnes kept to herself. Everyone knew Redwood Farm was special.”
I nodded.
“She should have let people come, though,” Chris said. “My mom would have helped weed her garden, or made me do it. It wouldn’t have been that bad. And I bet my mom would have loved some cuttings from her plants for our garden.” He examined the chicken coops. “These are amazing. I wish I could have seen them when all her chickens were here.”
I looked at them too. Agnes left me her farm. She’d want those coops filled up with chickens again. I tried to imagine a whole coop full of Roadrunners, or Henriettas—enough that Chris and Sam could have unusual chickens too. If unusual chickens were right for them, of course.
“Those apples will be ripe any day.” Sam pointed to an enormous tree. “They’re Gravensteins, my mom’s favorites.”
I looked at the tree. There were enough apples for an entire town on that tree. “How do you even pick apples that are that high up? Doesn’t it take weeks?”
; Sam laughed. “You call some friends with apple ladders, who really like Gravensteins. Haven’t you ever picked apples before?”
I shook my head. “I’m from LA, remember? What happens if you don’t pick them in time?”
Chris shrugged. “They fall off and rot all over the place. Or the deer eat them, if you don’t have deer fences.”
“Are there deer fences here?” I asked.
Chris shrugged. “We can go look,” he said.
So we walked all over the whole farm, around the edge, and Sam and Chris told me that Agnes didn’t have any deer fences except for around her flowers and her vegetable garden. We sorted out which blackberry bushes were a problem and which to leave alone for picking. They told me what the fruit trees were, and where the well was.
“How do you know all this?” I asked. “Do you learn it in school?”
Chris shrugged. “This is what people talk about here.”
Sam nodded. “Just like you probably know some city stuff.”
I thought about that. “Like which bus system uses which kind of transfer, or when the free day is at the museums, or what to do if you see someone getting mugged?”
Chris stared at me. I guess he never learned that stuff.
“Yeah, like that,” Sam said.
Too bad none of those things are useful here. But I’m good at learning new things.
Wells: People still use wells here, but not the kind you make a wish in, with the rock circle and the bucket that you wind up. Mostly they look like a metal pipe sticking out of the ground.
We picked a bunch of plums, because Sam said if we didn’t they were going to fall off and rot.
“Can you make plum crisp?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You could even make blackberry-plum crisp if you still have blackberries. There aren’t any rules about it.”
“Can you put them in the freezer?” I knew we still had space in our freezer, even with all those blackberries.
“Yeah, but it works better if you cut them in half and pull the pits out first,” Sam said.
So we made a plan to come back tomorrow to pick more plums.
Te quiero,
Soficita
Poultry breed observations by: Sophie Brown, unusual poultry farmer
Observations made: Tuesday, August 12
Type of bird: Bantam Black Frizzle Cochin
Gender of bird: Hen
PLEASE RECORD YOUR NOTES ABOUT THE FOLLOWING:
Comb: pinkish red, very small, pointy
Beak: gray, pointy
Eyes: orange with black pupils, I think (Roadrunner doesn’t stay still for very long)
Wattles: red
Earlobes: red
Beard: I don’t think so, but it’s hard to tell, with all those wild feathers
Head: black, looks like she blow-dried her feathers all funny
Neck: black, with feathers in all directions
Body: black, with feathers in all directions
Tail: black, with feathers in all directions
Legs and Feet: covered in wild black feathers
Eggs: light brown eggs, once in a while
Typical movements: Races around the barnyard at top speed; almost never walks anywhere; likes to chase squirrels and charge at other chickens.
Typical vocalizations (if any): Roadrunner’s pretty quiet, for a chicken.
Interactions with other poultry: Sometimes the other chickens try to peck Roadrunner, but she can easily outrun them. When she’s not in the mood to race around, sometimes she hangs out with Chameleon and Buffy.
Unusual abilities:
Roadrunner runs so fast she just looks like a black blur. But she eats and drinks and flaps her wings and poops and lays eggs the same speed as the other chickens.
Needs further research: Just how fast can Roadrunner run?
Could she run across water if she wanted to?
Can she move her molecules really fast through buildings like the Flash?
Guess not—Henrietta locked her out of the henhouse for almost an hour last night before I found her and put her inside with the others.
Wednesday, August 13
Mariposa García González
Heaven’s Best Salon
Querida Abuelita,
Lupe wanted to come pick plums too, so we stopped and got Chris and Sam and a ladder that Sam’s mom said we could use as long as we locked down the legs and didn’t stand on the top two steps. (Why do they even make those steps, if they don’t want you to stand on them?) Lupe and I didn’t think we could get the ladder into her Toyota, but Chris and Sam said it would be no problem. Chris showed us how to wedge it in through the back so we could hang on to it and keep it from sliding through the windshield, and made sure Lupe could see out the front and back and sides clearly around the ladder. Sam attached bungee cords to keep the back closed, and put a plastic ribbon on the end of the ladder so other cars would see it and not crash into it. (You have to do that here. It’s the law.) Then Lupe drove very carefully to Agnes’s farm.
After we got to Agnes’s farm and pulled the ladder out of the car and helped Lupe get back up off the driveway, where she was recovering from the drive, we walked back to the plum tree, and I told Chris and Sam about Lupe’s picnic idea.
“That’s a really good idea,” Sam said.
Chris nodded. “Everyone will want to see Redwood Farm!”
We thought up a list of what people could help with while we picked plums.
“What about cutting the long grass?” I asked.
Chris grinned. “No way! I asked Gregory yesterday, and he said he’d drive his riding mower over tomorrow, after work.”
I guess I’m going to mow my first lawn. And have a work-party picnic.
Te quiero,
Soficita
PS Lupe and I painted our fingernails the same color as the plums, a color called Sugar Plum Pie. You would have loved it. She told me how your friend Mrs. Giacomo came and did your nails in the hospital when you were too sick to go to her salon. We miss you a lot.
Thursday, August 14
Agnes Taylor
Beyond-the-Grave Chicken Farm
Dear Agnes,
Today Chris and Sam and my cousin Lupe and I mowed your lawn. Gregory’s riding mower is SO MUCH FUN!!!
It’s like the bumper cars at the theme park, only there isn’t anything to run into, and it cuts grass, so it’s also getting a useful job done. Chris just drives as fast as he can really close to the trees and stuff, but Sam and Lupe and I made patterns in the grass in case any aliens or astronauts were watching. We wrote, “HI ASTRONAUTS AND EXTRATERRESTRIALS” with the riding mower, and drew some hearts and stars and smiley faces so they would know we were friendly and that we like space too. (Chris said they would think we were in love with them, but I told him no, we love what they do for science, and he should too. You don’t have a lot of room to write in a small field, and a heart is a helpful abbreviation.)
No one ran into your house or barn or trees (just one bush, and it’ll probably be okay when it grows back, Chris says), and no one broke Gregory’s mower, and Mark came and picked up bags and bags of cut grass. He said we could come see his goats anytime.
On our way home, Lupe told me she was really impressed by how many things I’ve learned to do here.
I love living on a farm.
Your friend,
Sophie
PS We looked in your filing cabinet again and finally found Part Two of your hatching instructions. Phew!
REDWOOD FARM SUPPLY INCUBATION CHECKLIST
PART TWO
For bantam chicken eggs: begin Part Two on Day 16. Bantam eggs may hatch as early as Day 18.
For standard chicken eggs: set up the incubator for
Part Two on Day 19. Standard eggs typically hatch around Day 21.
Increase the airflow:
If your incubator has a fan, make sure it’s running. If your incubator has an air vent, open it at least halfway. Your eggs need airflow as well as humidity at this stage, which can be a difficult balance.
Check the humidity inside the incubator:
If it is close to or below 55%, open the lid and add more water to the channels or add a wet dish towel or sponge.
If it is close to or above 65%, mop up some water, or tape some plastic wrap partway over the channels.
Close the lid as quickly as you can, to prevent loss of humidity.
Be sure to complete the following tasks at least 2–3 times every day (5 times is better), for Days 19–21 for standard chicken eggs (Days 16–21 for bantam chicken eggs):
Wash your hands.
Look and listen for signs of pipping and/or hatching, such as tiny cracks in the eggshell and/or a tapping noise.
Check the temperature inside the incubator without opening the lid. If it does not read 99.5 degrees F, adjust the temperature accordingly.
Check the humidity inside the incubator without opening the lid.
If it is close to or below 55% and there are no signs of hatching on any eggs: quickly open the lid and add more water to the channels, or add a wet dish towel or sponge. If it is close to or above 65%, mop up some water or tape some plastic wrap partway over the channels. Close the lid as quickly as you can, to prevent loss of humidity.
If it is close to or below 55% and there are signs of hatching on any eggs: DO NOT open the lid! There’s too big a risk that a sudden drop in humidity could trap the chicks in their eggs.
DO NOT OPEN THE INCUBATOR UNLESS NECESSARY. DO NOT TURN THE EGGS.
Saturday, August 16
Mariposa García González
