Charlie

On Saturday, while I was unpacking the float and Sabina was merrily dancing around me, my husband came over with a little box.  Inside was a tiny baby mouse, still alive.  It's eyes were still closed and it had just enough hair to stop looking pink.  He'd found it in the old compost bin.  (As opposed to the "current" compost bin, which is where all our food scraps go.)

Sabina was fascinated.  I wondered whether the little fella could be hand fed.  So we went back to the house, got a pipette out and tried feeding him with cows milk.  Sure enough, the little fella was keen to drink, and while he probably bathed in most of it, I was pretty confident that he'd had a good drink.

Then we put him to bed in a box, with a hot water bottle.  He shivered for a couple of minutes, then settled down and went to sleep.  Sabina was ecstatic.

When Papa came in she ran over to him and said "Charlie has had a feed and now he's sleeping in his bed.  Do you want to see?"

Papa gazed at me with concern.  "You've named him?"

I gathered that the baby mouse was intended as an interesting farm exhibit, rather than a new pet.  Hmmm ...

As I had no idea how often and how much a little 5 day old mouse needs to be fed, I fed Charlie whenever I had some spare time.  But in the evening I warned Sabina "I am not getting up in the middle of the night to feed him.  He might not make it.  Ok?"  She nodded.  But Charlie made it.  He was a bit cold in the morning, but he made it.  And he had a good feed for breakfast.

For the next couple of blissful days we fed Charlie as often as we could, and he seemed to be thriving.  Sabina had a go at feeding him, and it was wonderful to see just how gentle, careful and patient she was with him.  We stroked him, and massaged him, just the way his mother would.  He grew stronger, and more vocal, and sometimes wriggled with great force in our palm.  He was happiest when held in a gently closed fist.  And he loved having his stomach massaged - he would lie still on his back, with his feet curled up.  Sometimes he had a mind of his own, and it was obvious that one day, Charlie was going to be fast.  Very fast.

We probably spent hours with Charlie.  But they were all blissful hours.  Hours that we looked forward to.  All other tasks got done in half the time, so that we'd have more time with Charlie.  Charlie became our family time, our time out, our escape from the real world.

Then it was time for me to go to work.  While I was very tempted to take Charlie with me into work, and I could even potentially justify that while feeding Charlie for the umpteenth time I was actually thinking up the latest and greatest architecture, it was going to break some serious security rules.  So, Charlie, together with Sabina (who happened to have the day off school), went to my Mum's.

Now my Mum has a huge affinity for all things living.  Everything thrives in her hands and under her care.  But somehow, Charlie didn't survive the day.  All I can say is that my Mum was more interested in the well being of her granddaughter than her granddaughter's baby mouse, and she didn't have enough energy for both.

The little guy got a proper burial in our backyard, and we decorated his resting place with petals.  This certainly gave Sabina a positive way to move forward, and soon she had wiped away the tears and was gratefully hugging her guinea pigs.  But I must admit, that the little guy has left a gaping hole in my day.  Lets just say that the massive enthusiasm to get up in the morning is gone.

I am grateful for the experience; Charlie will be missed.

Compost bins work

Our compost bin has been full for months now and we have just been adding food scraps to it regardless. The time has come to empty it, do something with its content, and start afresh. My husband proceeds to dig it out. The first wheelbarrow is ready to go. "You better test it", he calls out. I grab a sample and run over to the microscope.

It's beautiful. It is rich in bacteria, and it has a good number of ameaba in it. Not too many hyphal fungi in there, but a few potential hyphal fungi spores. It looks and feels great. I run out of the house with thumbs up. The wheelbarrow departs towards our other compost heaps. (Had the thumbs been down, the wheelbarrow may well have departed in the direction of Bob's valley. I guess we will never know.)

So what did it look and feel like?
Soil. Absolutely crawling with worms soil. Really nice, little bit sticky, not too wet, but definitely moist, soil. Crawling with worms. Dark dark brown, almost black in colour. And did I mention the worms?

What can it be used for?
Growing most garden plants - veggies, flowers, herbs. Not trees though. It needs more hyphal fungi to grow trees. And it's probably too rich for some veggies. I am not an expert in this yet. Watch this space.

What did we make it in?
In normal compost bin. One of those that just stands on the ground, and worms from the ground can get into it. (And they did get into it.) It has a lid on top. It's round, and about 50cm in diameter at the top. Bit wider down the bottom.

How did we make it?
We put all our food scraps, except for meat and bones, into it. So this included all vegetable, fruit and fish matter. (Yes, fish too! Including fish bones.) Tissues. Tea bags. Egg shells. Bread, rice, pasta. Onion and garlic peel. Orange and lemon peels. Avocado seeds. And when my daughter had not finished her dinner, it went into the compost too. Meat and all. (Please do note that these were usually very small amounts, like about two to four teaspoons, and it happens very infrequently. Perhaps once per three months.)

By the time we were digging it all out again, everything (except the fresh stuff on top) had been decomposed. The only thing we could recognise was the egg shells. And let them sit there I say. They provide great air pockets!

How long did it take?
We started the compost bin either in late 2006 or early 2007. After the first six months it was moved, together with all contents. About 18 months ago it was full, but then during a hot spell it sank down by 1/3rd. So we kept filling it up. We only filled it up on weekends, which is why it took so long to fill.

Compost Analysis

I set the microscope up on the kitchen table. Sabina dances around it impatiently.

I open the little jar with a compost sample and put it under the tap. "You're supposed to use distilled water, otherwise you might be introducing organisms", I muse. I look around. We don't have any distilled water. I turn the tap on, and start agitating the little jar.

Five minutes later, I pippette the murky solution onto the slide, Sabina breathing heavily over my shoulder. I slip the slide under the lense. "Mama can I have a look?" "No, not yet."

I turn the microscope on, and focus the lense. Even before I flick to maximum magnification, I see a nematode. A tiny little worm, moving left and right across the slide. I stand aside, and Sabina pokes her head over the lenses. She sees the nematode. Silence. Then she's off to play.

I observe the nematode for a while, trying to judge whether he is a good guy nematode. Then I go on with my analysis, or assay.

There is a fair bit of bacteria there, and a lot of amebea. But the amebea seem to be quite inactive. Very little fungi. But the fungi that I do find is amazing. There are probably only about 4 strands, but they are dark brown and really thick - about 5 micro metres. Wow. I have never seen fungi that good.

My conclusion is that the compost is "average". We need to add more fungal food to our compost. Obviously we have the capacity to produce some amazing fungi, but there is not enough food in there for the fungus to grow.

Microscope course

As a follow-up to the Soil Microbiology course, my husband sends me off on a microscope course, while he takes Sabina to the football.

The course is run by the same group that ran the Soils course, and is aimed to teach you to use the microscope and recognise all the different microorganisms in your soil - good, bad or ugly. And some of them are ugly.

I get my own microscope for the day, learn how to set it up, then I get a slide of compost tea, and off I go. The amount of life on that slide is amazing, and after some instruction, I get quite good at identifying the various little creatures.

At the end of the day I feel confident that, should I brew my own compost tea, I would be able to classify it as excellent, average or throw away.

The compost heap

I drive the tractor (glorified lawn mower) towards the compost heap. Scoop down. I plunge the scoop into the heap, showing no mercy. When the tractor stops moving I scoop up and drive backwards. The contents is dropped off a mere 3 metres to the right. Every now and then I see steam rising from the heap. I put my hand against it. Not too hot. Good. I smell it. Smells divine. Not anaerobic then. Excellent. I keep doing this until I see soil and roots poking through it.

But, hang on, hang on. Soil? The bank there was very compacted earth and/or rock. So I haven't hit the bank yet. But it's definitely not horse poo. It's soil. Beautiful 70% cocoa chocolate brown soil.

And the roots? Whose roots? Well, the compost heap was originally built between two eucalypt trees. Then they were sprayed with poison. They have a few brown leaves, but they are far from dying. Now I know why.