Briar Meadow Farm Diaries

01/05/2026

UPDATE...I'VE Been told to tell you that the little chiks are the same age. was a totally heartbreaking day for me. One of our chicks, born last Friday, had struggled right from the start. He had splayed legs and I fought to keep this baby going, with splints, having him dangling in a jar to strengthen his legs, spoon feeding him egg yolk slurry with electrolytes... you name it. I found him in the brooder on Wednesday, flat out (pic 2), and brought him back with droppers and holding him at my neck to warm up. I should have let him go... I was only prolonging his suffering and extending the length of time his brood buddy was kept from the rest of the chicks. We got home from a trip, this evening, to find him fading. I sat with that little fella in my hands, stroking and talking to him until he passed. I was almost to the point of getting Dave to end his suffering, but I knew he was so close and just wanted him to pass peacefully in his sleep. It didn't take long, but I was sobbing the whole time. I'm sobbing now! Truth is, if he was born fit and healthy, he'd be destined for the freezer.
MBut I'd cared for this wee man so much, up in the night hand feeding, working with him every day, and he FOUGHT! Longer than he should have. My fault. I don't think I'll do it again. I'd be doing it for me, not the chick. I just wanted to mark the passing of the tiniest soul who left a huge mark. RIP Pickles.

12/04/2026

There’s something a bit magical about an incubator humming away in the corner… like a tiny, feathery lottery where every pip feels like a drumroll 🐣✨

Our very first incubator hatch at Briar Meadow Farm has been and gone… and what a start we’ve had.

Out of 52 eggs, 37 hatched without so much as a wobble. Proper textbook stuff. We did have 3 who needed a little extra help getting their act together. With some careful assist chipping along their zip line, and a bit of patient “spa treatment” (gentle wetting over a couple of hours), two made it out. One of those had splayed legs, so we splinted them and crossed everything we had that it would find its footing.

The third chick… well. That one turned into a full-blown farmyard saga.

This little soul had opened the shell right over its face, which sounds helpful… but actually let too much air in and dried the membrane. What followed was a slow, careful, 12-hour rescue mission. Bit by bit, crack by crack, keeping everything moist, stepping in, stepping back… rinse and repeat. Because we could see his whole head, we knew he was safe from drowning, but goodness—it was hard to watch. There were moments I nearly called it. Truly.

But we kept going.

And late that night… out he came. Wobbly, determined, and already a bit of a legend.
We paired him up with a tiny bantam chick so he wouldn’t be alone, hoping they’d steady each other like two slightly tipsy dance partners. Sadly, the chick with the splayed legs didn’t make it through the night 💔

Our little fighter, though, earned himself the name Chick Norris—because honestly, anything else would’ve been an insult. He never quite found his balance and didn’t grow like the others, and at 5 days old, he quietly slipped away. That one stung. It still does. And yes, I’ve turned it over in my head more than once—whether I should have stepped in sooner.

But farming… and life… aren’t tidy little stories.
What we do have, two weeks on, is 38 strong, bright, busy chicks tearing around the brooder like they own the place—and another 46 eggs currently cooking away in the incubators 👀

For a first hatch, I’m calling that a win.

Now we wait… and hope the next round is just as kind to us.

If you want to follow along as these little fluffballs grow (and see what chaos the next hatch brings), make sure you’re following the page 🐥🌱

29/03/2026

WARNING! Cuteness overload is imminent. We now have 37 live chicks with 8 eggs still hatching. Last night I spent 2 hours constantly soaking an egg to help the chick hatch, otherwise it would have died. It then spent another hour in a sock next to my heart. I was shattered, but it was happy and chirpy this morning. Enjoy the video!

23/01/2026

I just won Double Bingo! You can get it too here!

14/01/2026

Especially for you, Beth Dawson

01/01/2026

Happy New Year from all of us here at Briar Meadow Farm 🎉🌾

As one year tiptoes out the gate and another comes stomping in with big plans and muddy wellies, we just want to say thank you. Thank you for cheering us on, sharing our posts, asking after the animals, and generally being part of our slightly chaotic, always heartfelt farm story.

This past year brought lessons, laughter, a fair bit of weather, and more animals than sense, but we wouldn’t swap it for anything. We’re heading into the new year hopeful, determined, and quietly excited about what’s growing, hatching, and being dreamed up behind the scenes.

Wishing all our friends and family a year full of good health, small wins, warm cups of tea, and moments that make you stop and smile. May 2026 be kind to you, and if it isn’t, may you be stubborn enough to be kind right back.

Lots of love from the whole Briar Meadow crew 💚🐝🐐

25/12/2025

Merry Christmas to our lovely Briar Meadow Farm community ✨
Whether you’ve been here for one post or the whole muddy journey, thank you for sharing the year with us. We’re raising a mug to you today and hoping your Christmas is calm, cosy and full of small joys.

17/12/2025

The joys of Christmas in Calgary, Alberta

16/12/2025

Bloody eyes are leaking again!

I was 4 when the firefighter who carried me from a fire became my dad. I don’t remember much from that night—just smoke, heat, and a firefighter lifting me out. My parents and brothers didn’t survive, and I woke up in the hospital with no family. The firefighter who saved me, Mr. Lawson, visited me every day after his shifts. He talked with me, brought small things to keep me busy, and made sure I wasn’t alone. His wife and two sons started visiting too. A few months later, they asked if I wanted to stay with them for a weekend. That weekend turned into something permanent. After the paperwork, I officially became part of their family. I’m 34 now, and I’m a firefighter too. Some days we work in the same station—him saving my life back then, and both of us saving others now.

15/12/2025

I know goats climb, but do they need to do it on slippy, moss covered logs when they're pregnant? Thankfully, Dave's bringing home a little tractor so we can...