Farmer: 0 - Weasel: 1

This morning - as has become my habit this week - I rolled out of bed and went and checked the weasel trap next to the hen house. 

I was pretty confident we had a weasel problem. I was finding 1-2 dead hens in the hen house once or twice a week. Weasels kill for sport. Before I set the trap, I'd walk into the chicken house to find mutilated hens that hadn't been eaten. Or chickens without heads. There's something about the brains and head bits that they especially relish. Like little zombie vermin. They're nasty little creatures.  They can squirm their way into a hole an inch wide, and wreak havoc. 

For three nights, I sealed up the chicken house and set the weasel trap before I went to bed. For three mornings, I went out to discover the bait gone, and no weasel. 

This morning - weasel! 

Here's what I've learned:

1. Weasels smell. 
2. Really bad.
3. Weasels are seriously cunning. Capable of sneaking off with the bait without springing the trap.
4. When a weasel shrieks at me unexpectedly, I jump like a little girl. 

I was filled with satisfactory glee this morning when I found I had finally caught the little murderer who's killed more than a dozen of my hens in the last weeks.  I triumphantly carried him up to the porch and showed him off to my Bride with the righteous satisfaction of Lady Justice. Through the window. It is still cold out, and she was still in her pajamas. (My Bride, that is. I have no idea if Lady Justice wears pajamas). 

I had spoken quietly to the animal control officer at the police station and a few farmers I know about what to do with the vermin after you catch them. I'm not going to just go release them happily into the woods, to see them come back to their old stomping grounds, or find some other person to bother.  Most farmers find a way to quickly kill off the vermin - raccoons, weasels, etc. - that are a constant plague to their livelihood. The most recommended course? A quick shot with a .22 (which I don't own), or drop them into a water-filled garbage can to drown them. 

Because winter hasn't quite breathed it's last frigid gasp up here in the great white land of Yankees, we haven't turned on the outside water yet. So I filled an empty 6 gallon bucket with water, and went out to help the weasel shuffle off his coil. 

I gave the weasel a knowing look, and he showed me his teeth. (That's when I learned #4 above).  I decided I'd reveled enough, and hurried on to the final bit. I was a little bit uncomfortable with this part, but not terribly so. Dealing with life & death of predators and the animals I've taken on to care for is part of the deal. 

I tipped the trap up vertical and dropped it into the bucket. 

Unfortunately for me, I hadn't noticed that the trap doors are held down by gravity. As soon as I tipped it up vertical, the weasel was able to push his way out and jump from the bucket. He left nothing but a blur and a cloud of mocking musk behind him as he dashed across my lawn and disappeared back into the woods. 

This is not over, Mr. Weasel

This batch tastes sweet, but... ashier.

The weather was nice enough this last weekend that I moved the maple syrup operation outdoors. 

The trick here is that if you leave the lid off the pot, the ashes from the woodfire occasionally blow in. But if you don't leave it off, the steam doesn't escape, and it'll never boil down. 

I voted for removing the lid, and having the Boy stand next to the pot and occasionally blow the ashes away. It wasn't effective in any way. But he enjoyed the opportunity to contribute. 

(Actually, one of the last steps before the final boil is to filter the condensed liquid - so the product & taste'll end up just fine.) 

Sweet, brown, liquid gold

So after putting out the taps, we watched the buckets closely. The first couple of days, the temperature went back down to the upper 30's - not really enough to get the sap flowing very quickly. And then we had more than 16" of snow fall.

In the first 5 days, we collected only a few gallons of sap. 

But then the sun came out. It soared into the mid 40's, and the sap was flowing. Suddenly, I wasn't checking often enough, and we had 17 gallons of sap in two days.  I collected it in food-safe plastic buckets (using clean, empty ail-pails from my cider brewing), nestling it in the leftover snow out on the porch until we were ready to start. The sap can sit out in the cold for several days quite safely, as long as it stays nicely chilled. 

I was ecstatic, and excited to begin the next step. But then I realized we had a different sort of problem. What the hell do you boil seventeen pounds of anything in? 

When I got the idea to start tapping our trees, I sent out a quick email to some other guys in town that I knew would be into it, or had done it before. I didn't know what the heck I was doing. I'm from Georgia. You want to talk BBQ? I'm your man. Making some edible sweetness from the lumber growing in your yard? That sounds like some sort of mystical Pilgrim voo doo. 

One of my Yankee neighbor buddies reassured me. 

"Collect sap. Boil it. It's hard to screw it up"

I pulled out every large canning pot we had in the house. We had three burners going, and steam started to rise, as the watery sap hit a slow boil. Soon I had a wet spot collecting on the ceiling above the stove, and the house began to feel like a sauna. A sweet, maple scented sauna. 

I set up a fan to blow the steam a little better, and get air flowing through the house. Fortunately, we have a large open kitchen area. I don't think I'd do this first part inside again - there are reasons that people did this outside over an open flame. 

It took hours, and we kept consolidating. And collecting. That day was warm again, and we ended up with another 5 gallons by the end of the day, bringing us up to 22 gallons total. 

It takes about 40 gallons of sap to create 1 gallon of syrup - so I was looking at a little more than 8 cups of syrup potential. 

Once we got it down to a couple of gallons of condensed liquid - it was getting more viscous, browning, and definitely sweet and smelling like it was heading where it needed to go. 

The last step is to bring the liquid up to someplace north of 210 degrees - the point where it starts to thicken, and get that syrup texture that you're shooting for. A candy thermometer is your friend. 

 A final filter of the syrup into your clean jars, and this can be put in the freezer for weeks or longer. 

The taste of this fresh, home-collected syrup is amazing. It reminds me of sorghum in a way - richer, earthier, more complex than the syrup bought from the store.  We gave each of the kids a little spoonful, and started planning the pancake breakfasts and french toast and other treats, while at the same time scheming to figure out how we make it last. Collecting and boilng that much sap to get a few precious jars of syrup. This is drizzling syrup, not pouring syrup. 

 Even so, while it took a full day to boil down, I don't think it would really take much more work to do 2 or 3 times the amount of sap, especially with a couple of people to share the watching with. 

This was a bucket-list item for me. But I think this will be a new annual tradition for our family, weather permitting.

But don't expect me to share any. 

You go find your own trees.