Our goal with this blog is to offer you a slice of the alpaca lifestyle in online form. It is written by Tom, Becky, and Karly about what's going on at Magic Willows Alpacas.

     Happiness is a Steaming Compost Pile

      2/3/12

        By Tom McMillan

      During our recent cold snap, it was great to see steam wafting up from the snow covered manure pile.  My compost thermometer (doesn't everyone have a compost thermometer?) tells me the current pile is cooking along at 140 degrees while the air temp is in the single digits. Why do I get so excited about a hot manure pile?  The temperature tells me that aerobic decomposition is taking place.  The bacteria are doing their job breaking down manure for the nitrogen and the bedding for the carbon.  The side effect of this heat is that it will kill off any parasites, weed seeds, and germs that might have been in the manure.

      I've been reading a lot of composting articles recently.  (Is there such thing as a farm geek?)  Most assume that composting stops in winter.  I've been trying a few tricks to keep things going.  First, the pile has to be big enough.  I built a ramp and platform so I can pile it higher.  Karly calls this the infrastructure for my compost empire.  It starts to cook when it gets over 3 feet deep.  Aerobic decomposition is more effective—and less smelly—than anaerobic decomposition, so I bury perforated PVC pipe in the pile or use a fence post to punch air holes. When I start a new pile, I cap off the old pile with waste hay.  This helps keep the heat in so decomposition can continue through all of the yucky stuff.

      When we got into the alpaca business, we were told that alpaca farms often sold the 'paca manure, as it makes excellent garden compost.  I've decided we can't afford to sell it.  We feed hay and a rather expensive mineral mix to the herd. By composting the manure and bedding, we feed the pastures, which, in turn, feeds the herd again. 

      All just a part of raising healthy, happy alpacas.

     Fowl News

       1/13/12

         By Karly McMillan

    While most of us are happy about the snow we got yesterday, six of the Magic Willows residents were not.

    The ducks are, as Tom likes to say, the hardest working animals on the farm. Usually, they are standing at their pen's door before dawn like sprinters in their blocks, ready to dash off to...whatever it is they do with such dedication.

     This morning though, the ducks lined up at the threshold of their pen, looked out over the snowy landscape, and stood there frozen. They exchanged glances and quacks as if saying, "You go first." "No, you go first."

     Finally, after a few deep ducky breaths, "CHARGE! AAAH--OOF!"

     They sunk and lay there defeated.

     So we shoveled a path from their pen to the pole barn, where they are keeping as busy as they can. They nose through the old hay and the dirt floor looking for treats the 'pacas overlooked, stopping ocassionally to stare wistfully out the doors and quack to each other about how maybe it is not as bad out there as they thought.

     "CHARGE! AAAH--OOF!"

     Ok, maybe it is.

     Our other fowl friends, the chickens, are also a little snow bound, though they don't seem to mind the day off. Yesterday, before the whole flock gathered to watch Chuck play fetch in the front yard (yes, Chuck is still with us. And yes, we're keeping him), one of the hens left us a rather large gift.

     Eggs come in all sizes here. The egg on the right is about the size you would see in a carton from the grocery store. The egg on the left, is 2-3/4 inches long, and 6 inches around. We're still trying to figure out who is leaving us these giant eggs. We assume she'll be limping.

     Whenever we tell mothers who visit our farm that alpaca gestation is 11 months, they all have, more or less, the same reaction: they hold their stomachs and say, "oof!"

     I think this egg would elicit a similar reaction.

     Fetch

      12/29/11

         By Karly McMillan

     If you have visited our farm this week, you probably know we have been dog-sitting Chuck, my cousin's almost-three-year-old chocolate lab. My cousin has been hoping to find a new home for Chuckles, because her household is about to contain not only Chuck, his "brother" Beamer, and their 19-month-old human "sister" Scarlet, but also a new baby boy due in March, and Chuck isn't one to share attention. He's a sweet, but very excitable boy, so to wear him out this week, we've been playing fetch a couple of times a day out in Pasture 5 (which is currently empty of chickens, alpacas, and ducks). All week the 'pacas have been watching Chuck play fetch like they were watching a tennis match. They stare with looks of befuddlement, keeping their eyes on Chuck as he chases the ball and brings it back again and again and again. Chuck completely ignores them.

     Well, today Estrella, one of our original three alpacas and queen of the herd, decided that Chuck, clearly a predator, needed to be confronted. So she wove her way into Pasture 4 (which shares a fence with Pasture 5) and stood at the fence with her attitude cranked up to 11.

     Chuck kept playing fetch.

     Indignant, Essie began following Chuck as he chased the ball and brought it back. Soon Essie was running up and down the fence line as if screaming, "Would you stop it! Pay attention to me, moron!"

    Oddly enough, a black, long-necked animal three times his size chasing him didn't faze the boy genius. Contrary to all of the alpacas nervous chirping and Essie's assumptions about this slinking, dark-furred dog, Chuck is not a predator--unless you are a fuzzy, green ball.