Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Good Intent
Think about it. Even people who plot illegal action have in mind outcomes that they see as being good. Admittedly, maybe just good for them, but it provides a perspective from which one can begin to appreciate how something motivates them.
Imagine if humankind were able to reach agreement on an outcome that is good for all of us. Wouldn’t that be lovely? It would.
What if corporate greed didn’t exist? What if power was always willingly given and never forcibly grabbed? What if ice cream was a healthy food to eat?
As long as I’m dreaming, might as well go big!
While debates over the latest dramas across the globe play out, the focus at our home this weekend has centered on clearing the increasingly hardening slop of wet snow that fell Thursday and Friday. I’ve posted frequently about the antics of our chickens and Delilah the Belgian Shepherd shows up frequently in snapshots from our walks, but our indoor cat, Pequenita receives much less press.
Yesterday, she decided to make herself comfortable while I was reclined in my favorite perch beside the fireplace.
She shows nothing but good intent, even when it involves inciting reactions from Delilah. She plays like a cat.
There is a jigsaw puzzle in reach of completion this afternoon and a couple of NFL playoff games available for viewing on television. It will be a challenge to equally share time between splitting firewood and power-lounging indoors today.
My primary intention will be to soak up enough comforts of home to sufficiently carry me through the week ahead.
May all people open themselves up to recognizing probable cause in the actions and behaviors of those with ill-intent and hold them appropriately accountable. Then, let’s get on with envisioning nothing but the best of intent for all.
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Rocky Maturing
Caught Rocky giving a few shout-outs yesterday when I stopped by to check if the brood might be turning in early for the night. I wondered if he might be trying to help me out by calling them all in.
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It turned out they weren’t done for the day and the few who headed inside for a short time were soon back out again. Some decided to scamper up the path toward the barn again. That’s my sign to leave them be and come back when it is much closer to dark.
As can be seen in my video, the added overhang extension performed flawlessly in protecting the chicken ladder from the sloppy, wet snow sliding off the roof. We received a serious dose of “heart-attack” snow that was a bear to plow, but it made for great snow sculpting.
To heck with simple snowmen. Cyndie went with a snowchicken.
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If that isn’t enough to show how much we love our chickens, I actually went along with my wife’s accommodating their tender-footedness and succumbed to her philosophy of shoveling a path to the barn.
Ralphie, is that dorky or what!?
I figure it’s just a sign of true love. I risked my heart for them.
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New Eggs
Our newest batch of chickens appear to be coming of age. The hours of daylight have started to noticeably reveal their shift in duration so maybe that is inspiring our young ones to get on with the whole egg-laying process.
Cyndie reported the surprise of finding two little eggs in the nest boxes yesterday. It’s not entirely surprising, since it is right on schedule for their age. The timing for us with this latest brood is just a little off because they were hatched so much later in the year than the first two batches we’ve raised. We are not used to seeing this kind of laying activity in January.
It’s exciting. And a little mind-boggling, when we consider there may soon be around a dozen eggs a day.
If we keep this up, Wintervale may need to start marketing eggs for sale.
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High Perches
Yesterday, Cyndie happened upon the chickens roosting on the fence and gate under the overhang of the barn. It’s great to see them making themselves at home in the protected spaces we are able to provide.
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They appeared to appreciate the brief visit of actual sunlight. We haven’t seen a lot of sunshine lately.
my mind is able to travel
to visions of high perches
where I see things from a different perspective
insight drips in slow transitions
from vacancy to vibrancy
energized elasticized
drastically fractionalized
collages of distinction
mixed in transfixion
a modal depiction
of a different view
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Chicken Entrance
There have been multiple iterations of ramps for the chicken entrance of our coop over the years. Here’s a refresher of the process that got us to where we are today:
The first version suffered a fair amount of abuse from the chickens who took a liking to pulling apart the branches I wove into it. I patched it up once, but then Cyndie smashed it with a shovel when executing a murderous possum that had snuck inside for a night.
So, I built a second one that was much sturdier. Or so I thought. The chickens liked picking that one apart, too. In addition, after several winters of abuse, we grew weary of the ice and snow disaster that built up on it because the ramp crossed beneath the low side of the slanted roof.
Accumulated snow would slide off or drip directly onto the middle of the ramp. Design flaw, I admit.
So, I did something about it. Last May, I completely changed the ramp to a version that ran parallel to the drip line, just inside the short overhang of the roof above.
Okay, how many of you engineering types can see the problem with this solution? Let me give you a hint. How does snow slide off the edge of a slanted roof? (Click here for the answer.)
I had hoped the new sideways design was just far enough inside the dripline. It’s not. That brings us to the latest enhancement. Over the weekend, I built a new chicken entrance overhang to extend the dripline well beyond the ramp.
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Using materials we had lying around from previous projects, including a salvaged hail-damaged clear roof panel from the woodshed, I gave the chickens a luxurious awning over their entrance. Makes the place look downright palatial.
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If that ramp still gets messy, I’ll drop walls from the overhang and give them an enclosed entrance. It’ll be their mud-room where they can kick the snow and mud off their feet before going inside.
Let’s hope that won’t be necessary.
We are now awaiting more snow to see how this works out. Stay tuned for future status reports…
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Bloody Mystery
It is never a good thing for chicken owners to come upon loose feathers and blood drops in the snow. Yesterday afternoon, that is precisely the scenario Cyndie happened upon.
First, here are the facts we know. All 14 of our chickens are still with us. Cyndie was walking Delilah and came upon spots of blood in the snow. As they approached the barn, the appearance of enough loose feathers to imply something amiss raised her alarm. She secured Delilah in the barn and rushed toward the coop.
We are putting the basis of our conjecture about what might have happened on her findings upon arrival. Rocky was standing guard outside the coop and all the hens/pullets were inside.
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After determining none of the chickens were missing, she went back and followed the blood trails. When she told me about it, I joined her and we walked a long way to see if any more information could be gleaned from the evidence. We could tell the tracks made it all the way to the road, and by that distance, it seemed clear the bleeding was greatly reduced.
The size of the footprints lead us to suspect a small cat, which aligns with the location where we have frequently seen a cat of unknown ownership prowling.
The rest remains a mystery, but we have developed a possible explanation from the data available.
We think our rooster, Rocky, took on the attacker and successfully fought it off, sending it away wounded.
Earlier in the day, while I was walking Delilah, Rocky let loose with a series of about seven “cock-a-doodle” calls. He is still about one syllable short of the classic rooster crow, but it gets closer each time we hear it.
Cyndie is hoping to get a closer look this morning to assess for possible injuries. It looked like there were mostly yellow feathers tossed about, which points toward the Buff Orpington. They all looked okay in the coop, but the birds do a pretty good job of masking any problems they might be suffering, which makes good sense as a survival instinct.
Here’s hoping the wounded visitor will lose interest in our flock now and redirect its attention somewhere a little less threatening, and that our theory about Rocky’s heroics happens to actually be true.
Still Gray
Another day dawns under continued winter fog that is making the world feel small but making surfaces magically white. It’s not a bad thing, except in that it mirrors the sense lingering after the insanity that played out five days ago.
Now five deaths attributed to the insurrection at our nation’s capitol building. Days of shocked reaction have followed with innumerable calls for consequences, only some of which seem to actually be happening. Participants who have been positively identified are getting arrested. The primary media pathways for spreading falsehoods and calling for more unrest are being shut down.
That’s all well and good, but it still feels like we are thrashing around in the deep end of a pool on the brink of drowning and we can’t get to the edge to grasp some respite from the threat.
Calls for impeachment and/or removal by the 25th amendment seem like just words. Justice is understandably slow. The thing that leaves us feeling so helpless is the inability to immediately disarm the imminent threats. Calling people (politicians, police, extremists) out for their misdeeds as a way of maybe shaming them into suddenly having a change of heart and becoming reasonable, upstanding, well-meaning seekers of actual truth and justice doesn’t feel like a very effective plan.
So, we wait for the next calamity and for the most viable consequences to play out, greedily longing for a chance to get over to the edge of the pool so we can catch our breath.
It’s hard to argue the racial component overtly evident in the angst of Trump and his followers. My thoughts on that continue to align with the need for the rest of society to be the solution.
Edmund Burke —
“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
If we neglect to acknowledge the racial injustices that have brought us to where we are and that continue to exist inherently in today’s society, we are doing nothing to foil the triumph of evil.
We reap what we sow here folks.
I gotta put my shoulder to the mechanism of sowing love and give an extra heave-ho today. Love will be my life-preserver on which to cling out here in the foggy, gray deep end.
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Hunting Hounds
On a thickly gray Saturday morning, we stepped out of the house behind Delilah and quickly noticed a sharp sound in the distance. Swallowed by the crunch of our boots on the snowy path, the muffle of hats over ears, and the sound of our own voices as we chatted about some minutia, we had to stop in our tracks to identify what we were hearing.
There was a helicopter far in the distance, but that sound just faded. After a moment of no sounds, there was the bark of a dog. Then, several more. The hunting hounds were out early.
We resumed our trek down the trail, but not for long. The echoing bellows were only getting louder, so we reversed direction and headed back toward the house, through the back yard, and on to the barn. Delilah was delighted with the added excitement and romped her way along with us, reversing direction only several times to see if we couldn’t just check on the vocal hounds in the woods.
I wondered if we might suddenly see coyotes sprinting past us in a run for their lives.
With Delilah secured in the barn, Cyndie and I tended to the tasks of setting out food for the chickens and opening the coop. I could see the trucks of hunters slowing moving by on the road while we mingled with the chickens and I cleaned off the poop board. Rocky made a failed attempt to mount one of the Domestiques. We took solace in his acceptance of her objections.
Cyndie continues to offer feed from her bare hand in effort to condition the flock to always accept humans as safe and valuable companions. With respect to the New Hampshire pullet, Cyndie got nipped as the overzealous girl went after a mole on her thumb.
Can’t fault that as malicious, but geez. That hurt.
Returning to the barn, Delilah bursts forth with excitement at this moment because she knows the next phase of this daily routine is to take her up to the house where she will receive her morning meal. We exit the barn door and while I am closing the door behind us I notice Cyndie struggling with everything she’s got to hold the leash.
Delilah is trying to drag Cyndie up to the driveway to where a cute looking hunting beagle is standing all alone.
We decide to let Cyndie take Delilah back into the barn for a bit while I see if I can coax the beagle to get back on the job and find the rest of his pack or the scent of a coyote.
Knowing the hunters were driving nearby, I walked with the happy radio-collared beagle toward the road. A truck pulled up just as we arrived. The hunter said she was one of two that had gone astray.
Meanwhile, Cyndie took the opportunity to pop out of the barn and head up to the house with Delilah on a short leash. They quickly were surprised by the other stray. This time, Delilah was in reach to make contact, and luckily, with wagging tails the dogs met gently, nose to nose.
Cyndie said she offered Delilah the deal of continuing up to the house for her breakfast, and the two dogs trotted together for a bit and then parted without incident as they reached the door.
The hunter I spoke with at the road said our neighbor had alerted them to a sighting of coyotes early this morning, so they were hopefully tracking a fresh scent. By the time we were having our breakfast, nothing but quiet had settled in around us. I’m guessing the trail was lost.
Subsequent calm and quiet was a welcome outcome after the adventurous start to our Saturday.
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Coping Mechanisms
A speedy recovery from a day of dramatic events involves more than time alone. Humans can be very inventive about devising ways of coping with stress. Health professionals might commonly recommend meditation, exercise, or soothing music. Non-professionals might lobby for mind-altering substances, shopping sprees, or aggressive video games.
I am never shy about flaunting the marvels of forest bathing.
Most people agree that caring for pets brings on a wealth of mental health benefits. We have a fair share of creatures relying on us for sustenance, with chickens being greatest in number. Cyndie has figured out the trick to renewing their interest in venturing from the coop during the days.
While I pushed to let them figure out for themselves that they can walk the packed snow pathways to get to the dry earth under the barn overhang, Cyndie preferred to provide them a straw surface on which to tread.
They liked Cyndie’s plan much better than mine.
We’ve figured out a way to help the chickens cope with snow. The wimps.
As for my interest in controlling the amount of sugar in my diet, it is forever challenged by my passion for other carbs. Yesterday, Cyndie decided to cope with her residual stress by baking seven loaves of bread
There goes my diet.
Four of those loaves are breakfast bread. Enough said.
I’ll cope just fine.
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Especially Exhausting
I suspect people around the world have already received news of the Trump-inspired mob storming our nation’s capital yesterday. It brought me to tears. It felt like a disaster to our democracy that can’t be undone, even though it accomplished nothing in terms of the mob’s assumed goal of disallowing a peaceful transfer of power to happen.
What can’t be undone is the obliteration of our ability to profess our style of government is above the violent disruptions common in many other parts of the world. The 45th President has successfully trashed everything about our reputation as a world-leading country.
Luckily, the brief insurrection was pushed back, out of the capital and off the grounds by the time darkness fell. Unfortunately, I doubt we will recover any respectability for decades, if ever.
By the time I was ready to turn in for the night, there seemed to be a few glimmers of hope that some of the Republicans who have been enabling the dumpster-fire of a President for years were finally making timid statements that hint of a realization of the error of their ways.
In a year of unprecedenteds, I found myself actually listening for the first time in my life to a few speeches from the floor of the house and senate chambers after they reconvened. They actually sounded sane to me! They also sounded like there was a growing momentum to drop the fomenting of election fraud claims. Ya think!?
The whole afternoon was especially exhausting. The day of certifying the electoral votes historically was only noticed by a small number of geeks who live for all things political and the press whose job it is to cover it. Yesterday, it grabbed the attention of the nation and beyond.
Why? For only one reason. The delusions of a lunatic. He is the main reason, but also fully culpable are the political fools who enabled him and the hoards of citizens who choose to believe the lies professed by him.
I guess it should be no surprise that it’s all so bleeping exhausting.
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Relative Something 