Archive for April 2017
Noticing Moments
Illness has slowly been making its way through some of the staff at work, and I’ve heard tell of it visiting some of my family. Somewhere between the two, after the weekend of visitors, I brushed too close to a source. My body responded with all the classic symptoms.
It’s an almost indistinguishable cross between a cold and allergies. After an impressive run of relatively good health, experiencing an affliction such as this helps me to realize how many things there are about living every day that I take for granted.
Certainly, I now have a new level of respect for how pleasant it is to have a clear and healthy sinus cavity on a daily basis.
As I stepped toward our spiral staircase from up in the loft, I noticed how impressive it is to be able to stride unhesitatingly over the edge of the floor and float down the massive pine steps. It doesn’t seem like that big a deal usually, but yesterday I found myself hyper-aware of what a marvel it is to have that ability.
With tired, stinging eyes, my drive home from work yesterday was an extra challenge of not driving distracted. Well, not only distracted, but actually asleep. When I arrived safely home, my mind was drawn to one specific goal. I wanted to lay down on our bed, pull the cover over my body, and close my eyes for a nap.
My nose has suffered a days’ worth of abuse from tissues wiping the constant flow and my eyes stung. I didn’t want to be touched. I just wanted to completely give in to the urge to sleep. Pequenita couldn’t resist. I think she spends her whole day dreaming of the moment when I will come home and lie down on that bed with her.
She purred and kneaded her way up my body, arriving at my head. My arms were snuggled deep below the covers and my irritated eyes were frozen shut in resistance to the sting. So she head butted me right in the nose. It was the absolute worst intrusion to the comfort I was so desperately seeking.
I didn’t react. I just wanted to forget the insult and enter dreamland. So she did it again, harder.
I noticed how cute it can seem sometimes when she does that head-butting action. How dear it is that she seeks my attention with such fervor. And I noticed how different it comes across when I feel miserable and my nose is particularly sensitive.
Why is it that this kind of illness triggers an obscure mental focus? I noticed my slippers of many years. I don’t know why I find it so hard to part with my house slippers. Even though these long ago developed a crack in the sole that lets wetness in –noticeable when making brief excursions through puddles in the garage or on the deck or driveway (obviously, venturing out of the house)– they still function perfectly well in every other regard.
I haven’t given a thought to replacing them. How could I? These are the ones. There are no others to be had.
Until I finally do. Then the new pair become “the ones,” for the next decade and a half.
Just some things I noticed.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Roost Achieved
I was all excited to check the image card after another overnight on the trail camera, but there was nothing there. I think the batteries expired. If any new prowlers showed up on the second night, we’ll never know.
In a strange result of nature, we received a quarter of an inch of rain yesterday before I got home, but the grounds looked like five-times that amount had fallen.
There’s almost nowhere to step that doesn’t turn out muddy when you move off the pavement or wood chips. Delilah jumped up on Cyndie in a fit of excitement and painted a wonderful image with her dirty paw. It’s time to pull out her kiddie pool and park it by the front door so she can wash her feet each time we enter the house.
On my way home from work yesterday, I stopped in Hudson to pick up some accessories to improve our electrical hook-up to the coop. It’s just extension cord for the time being, but at least it can be more soundly secured extension cord while it’s there.
I’m working toward properly burying a supply wire from the barn and securing it per electrical code guidelines, but the chicks needed heat much sooner than I could execute the necessary steps to wire it right the first time.
Later in the evening, when we walked down to reset the trail camera with new batteries and a cleared image card, we found one of the Rhode Island Reds had made her way up onto one of the two parallel roosts that offer the highest perch in the coop.
I have wondered whether having the roosts set right at the level of the large window would be a drawback for them, so seeing a bird on the roost was a big deal for me. I felt good that she didn’t panic or jump down when I came all the way up to the window.
I’m not confident they will be so comfortable when it is a large cat that shows up to look in on them.
If it proves to be a problem, I can easily add a board to provide increased privacy for them. While we were lingering there, one of the Buff Orpingtons joined the Red up on the roost. It won’t take long for the rest of the copy cats (chicks) to follow suit, I’m sure.
Remember, our chickens are brilliant.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Close Watch
I think the trail cam was too close to the coop. It seemed to trigger upon the movement of the shadow across the front door. There were 400 images recorded over the 24 hour period! That was really only 200 triggers, because I had left the setting at 2 images per activation.
The chick(en)s were under close watch for this first day in the coop. Temperature is not controlled as much as it was in the brooder located inside the barn. As far as I can see, they are not showing any signs of discomfort or distress. Why would they? These birds have moved into a Taj Mahal of chicken coops.
Still, Cyndie is not sure we are avoiding minimal desired temperature and is checking on them regularly.
I peeked in the window after setting up the camera Sunday night.
Cyndie checked on them first thing in the morning, yesterday.
Then she stopped by several times during the day.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Delilah even made an attempt to monitor their status on her own. Luckily, Cyndie was on the other end of the leash.
Finally, at the end of the day, the front door got opened for some adjustments and the introduction of a larger food dispenser. With little in the way of bugs to eat, the poor birds are devouring the starter granules faster than Cyndie can keep up.
That was all interesting enough, but the real winner on the trail cam was the night vision capture. It didn’t take long for us to have the first visitor make an appearance. There is no doubt in my mind that my attempts to critter-proof our coop will be well-tested.
.
Let the games begin…
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Chicks Move
Of course, the chicks were one of the more popular attractions for visiting family yesterday. On the group’s first visit to the barn, I decided to take Delilah for a walk in the opposite direction, to keep her from feeling neglected and barking her shrill attention plea while everyone was cooing over the chicks.
Julian was kind enough to take my camera and record the proceedings for me.
He wonderfully captured the moment when one of the chicks fell asleep in Steve’s grasp. It looks like the poor thing died in his hands.
After the festivities of the day wound down and visitors had departed, Cyndie and I went to work getting power to the chicken coop so we could move the heat lamp out there. The time had come.
We transferred our chicks from the brooder to the coop. They seemed to handle the stress well and quickly looked very comfortable in their new home. One of the Barred Plymouth Rocks wasted no time in climbing the branch that led up to the poop board beneath the two roosts.
I’m pretty sure they will be sitting on the roosts when Cyndie checks on them this morning. They were easily jumping that high in the brooder to sit on top of the waterer.
I moved our trail camera to a tree next to the coop in hopes of recording any new traffic arriving to investigate the fortress. If prowlers begin to snoop, we’d like to find out who it is so we can tailor any control measures for the most likely threats.
We spied on the chicks through the window for quite a while before leaving them for their first night in the new residence. It left us wishing we’d installed a video feed so we could watch them from the house.
Our little chicks are growing up! So far, so good.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Going Slow
We are in a bit of a rush this morning. After staying out late last night at Gary’s for dinner and music, we are hosting brunch for Cyndie’s family in a couple of hours. Although we started preparations early yesterday, there is much to be done right down to the last minute.
Care for our animals does not get postponed, so we end up feeling like we are trying to do two things at once. The natural result of that is, we try to rush everything we do.
I gotta say, rushing things tends not to be my favorite mode. I definitely prefer going slow, especially when it comes to being with our horses. Even when there is more to be done than there is time for, I can’t help pausing in the morning sun, breathing in the spring air, and just being quiet around the herd for a few moments.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I ponder over the incredible saturation of soil we are currently in the middle of, amplified right now by the 4.5 inches of rain that has fallen over the last two days. I marvel at how quickly –overnight!– the rain greened up the grass. I smile at the new buds popping open throughout our woods.
It definitely feels like spring has sprung.
Growing things obviously aren’t going slow now, so my pauses to enjoy will become squeezed between frantic efforts to keep up with the mowing and trimming that is already on the verge of demanding attention in some spots.
Life can be a delicate balance of hurrying up and slowing down all at the same time.
See? Opposites attract!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Unwelcome Infestation
Yesterday started with a shock for us. We had just stepped out of bed and were getting dressed to take Delilah out to tend to the horses. Delilah strangely fixated on something that we assumed must be a dog toy that had rolled under the chair.
I suggested it was probably a mouse. I had the wrong pest.
Oh my gosh! ANTS!
I grabbed a flashlight to look under the chair for Delilah so I could pull out what she was so interested in. What the heck!? Ants have moved in and taken up residence at this outlet. They must like the warm transformer to incubate their eggs.
Maybe they thrive on electricity.
I wonder if our carbon monoxide detector still works. I didn’t test it.
When I saw all the wood particles, I worried, “Termites?”
Naw. The ants were just pulling out the scraps left in the opening cut for the outlet box.
Ain’t home ownership grand?
.
(Today’s post partially delayed by the very distracting youtube live stream of April the giraffe giving birth…)
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Our Time
Our cat, Pequenita, is an indoor cat. For the most part, I think she accepts the fact that she has to share her space with our dog, Delilah, but she does so with a perpetual hesitation. I’ve noticed that when Cyndie takes Delilah outside for a walk, Pequenita will often spring into action and take advantage of the unrivaled access to the main living spaces.
If I am in the kitchen, she will suddenly show up under foot, mewing her staccato chirps and walking loops to repeatedly do the little cat hop-and-rub maneuver.
Sometimes I will bend down or sit on the floor to honor her presence, giving her some extra attention in moments where she is free of the usual interference of the scene-stealing canine companion.
These precious minutes become our time. Interactions that only happen when we are alone together.
I didn’t intend to get tangled up in these secret little affairs with ‘Nita. These moments of intimacy came about because I got frustrated with her penchant for reaching up and burying her claws into my pant legs. When I don’t have on my canvas Carhartt jeans, it can be a scream.
Not being raised a cat guy, my first inclination was to ignore the overly independent presence of cats in our home, but she has decided that I’m her man. Ignoring her was never really an option.
To interrupt her before she gets around to the leg torture, I’ve taken to making the first move by invading her space. I figured it might work in a reverse-psychology sort of way and cause her to behave as though she wanted nothing to do with me.
It doesn’t work.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
She loves me. What can I say?
I’d feel a little like I was involved in an illicit affair that only happens behind Cyndie’s back, except that Pequenita almost always shows this much affection, and more, every night in our bed, right in front of Cyndie’s eyes.
All this attention is a far cry from the general disdain for cats I held over the first 3 decades of my life. I sure never saw this coming. It gets me to thinking, do I need to be careful about what could happen next?
Chickens?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Domesticating Wild
A number of our close advisors have provided insights on what we could do to tame the many wild raspberry patches that thrive on our land. Last weekend we finally made a first pass through the bramble that exists across the driveway from the house.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
In the four previous years since we moved here, we have simply harvested berries from wherever they appear. Some years the bounty was greater than we could keep up with and other years it has seemed a bit off. The hot spots tended to travel from one zone to another in any given season.
Navigating the tangle of thorns to reach fruit in the center of the patches was often difficult and hazardous. Since we never planted any of these wild raspberry bushes to start with, it doesn’t feel like we are risking too much to take a crack at cutting them back in hopes of encouraging some more orderly growth.
There’s no reason to think new patches wouldn’t just sprout up again if we accidentally destroy a current one. That’s the way they got here in the first place, thanks to the birds and nature’s way of doing things.
It seems realistic to me to expect that the trimming we have done may interfere a bit with the potential volume of this summer’s berry crop. Long term though, we think we will be cultivating better conditions for the plants. The ultimate result we are hoping for is improved berry production and a more enjoyable process of picking them.
Raspberry jam, anyone?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, Feathers
While we have been a little distracted with a sick dog, a buried tractor, and a colicky horse, our chicks have been busy making feathers.
It’s not like they have been ignored, though. There have been a few more visitors than usual stopping by to sneak a peek at the spectacle of John and Cyndie having chickens, and we have welcomed the opportunity to give the chicks as much exposure to being handled as possible.
The yellow Buff Orpingtons are proving to be the least interested in being held. The rest of the birds are beginning to take our upturned palms as an invitation for a magic carpet ride.
.
This particular Barred Plymouth Rock seemed to take great pleasure in using the top of the water jar as her perch. I’m not sure it is all that great for the water quality down below, though.
.
On Sunday, I re-attached a door handle to the front door of the coop and did some tightening of screws. We are going to add a temporary containment fence just outside their door in back for the first days they will be granted access outside.
It won’t be long before their big move from the brooder to the coop, where they will be confined to quarters for a week or more in the process of acclimatizing them to their new home.
I’m so ready to have them reach the point where they’ll be safe with free range access to the fly and tick smorgasbord that our property offers.
Some folks look at our chickens and think, egg-layers. I am much more interested in the chickens’ skills as insect controllers. I tend to envision them more as killers.
Hmm. That gives me a new idea for a theme of names…
I gotta do something to counter-balance all the sweet names Cyndie is plotting to give them. I don’t want these birds to become a bunch of softies, after all.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Relative Something 