We are moving into a much (MUCH) smaller farm in Barriere, British Columbia, as soon as we can manage to sell our beloved property in Hollister. We'll be in a multi-generational home again, a lifestyle I loved and cherished from my childhood. It is a rare blessing in life when one's family is as close and loving as ours in spite of our collective insanity, and more than willing to share a mortgage, home and tiny farm. Eric may actually be able to get the double hip replacement he so desperately needs, and possibly ditch the wheelchair for a few more years. We knew it was never going to happen here in the US.
We're moving to a huge and comfortable house, where we old trolls can live in the daylight basement, under the day-star worshipers, with our own kitchen and separate entrance for torchlit boardgaming session, assorted arcane rituals and loud music.
There is plenty of room in the entry hall for many boxes of newborn goats and hatching chicks. There is also, oddly, an enormous indoor pool room - it needs a lot of work and I give my splendid daughter-in-law two years to tire of the maintenance involved, before my son and I turn the whole thing into the largest terrarria/herpetology breeding room in the region. How many waterdragons, beardies, skinks, geckos and snakes can we fit? We may find out one day!
So that's the up-side.
There's always a downside.
I never fully recovered to losing half the herd to CL and pneumonia after the floods of 2017. My silence on this site and lack of traveling to shows reflects that. When the company I worked for was sold, I and many others lost our jobs, and that was the end of being able to afford the California dream. The tiny farmstead in BC beckons with peace, a new start, my beloved family and a health care system and government that I understand and continued to admire from afar. Both Eric and I will put the health care to good use.
I have a lot of Juliana pigs, top notch breeding stock. I can only afford the quarantine process (and space on the new land) for eight: two boars and six sows. If anyone out there wants to try their hand at breeding this fantastic miniature pig, I am letting Juliana breeding stock go at $500 each, half of their value. Want a breeding trio? $1200 for a hand-selected boar and two sows.
Any pigs left when we enter quarantine will have to go by way of auction, not the end result they, or I, prefer.
I am still debating if I want to quarantine our Olandsk Dwarf and Andalusian Blue chickens, or our sweet turkey Eddie. At some point, the cost will become prohibitive, and I have no idea how we will fare with the sale of this property.
The worst of it:
I was stunned and shattered when I learned that due to the draconian Scrapie requirements, I cannot bring any of my Nigerian or Guernsey does to Canada. I registered for the Scrapie program in 2014 but had no idea that there was follow-up work involved. Now it's too late, as the export regimen requires FIVE years of stringent protocols. Strangely enough, I can take bucks with me; they must never leave the new property, cannot live with kids/does (aside from breeding) and upon death, their heads must be sent in for Scrapie testing. Fair enough; I would gladly have permanently quarantined my incredible does, but it is not to be. I have tried applying for a variance, but doubt my prospects on this front. I am broken and exhausted from weeping and must move on with what I can.
All the does and remaining bucks will be sold at the local livestock auction in January. If you are already experienced with CL protocol and want some incredible senior does at absolutely no cost, drop me an email. If you do not and never have had CL, I recommend against it, because it's a lot of work and innately tragic. I am hoping some of the best ladies will grant me little bucks to add to my short list of lads going to Canada. It's the best path I can take out of a heartbreaking situation.
Mythos Farm is on the move.
I hope I can keep up.