Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Balance Lost
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I arranged three stones as an example of how they can be stacked.
While taking a picture, I also captured an example of how they can fall.
It’s a temporary art form, after all.
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Second time’s the charm, though.
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Chick Socializing
Was hangin’ out with the chicks yesterday to further our ongoing exercises of socializing them to be friendly with people. I served up some extra treats in my palm that brought everyone up close for a piece of the action.
Those who didn’t want to fuss with the crowd wandered around behind me to peck the rivets on my pants.
All four breeds are developing nicely and everyone appears to be getting along reasonably well. We’ve reached a plateau of little change in our daily operating procedures for them that will likely last weeks. We are under the impression that they need to grow closer to the size of the adults before we take out the divider in the coop and merge young with old.
There are signs of a comb beginning to show above the beaks of all of the chicks, but one girl, in particular, is well ahead of the rest. One of the New Hampshires has me wondering if it’s possible she’s not actually a girl.
This one has always been bigger than all the others and already has both comb and wattles well developed. If we start hearing some crowing sounds one of these days, it will be a confirmation. Either that or we could be getting our first new eggs much sooner than anticipated.
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Heavy Lifting
For our Labor Day holiday three-day weekend during this pandemic, we have chosen to stay home but we wanted to spend some time together working on a project that was as much fun as it was a productive accomplishment. With no negotiation required, we both felt an equal desire to put some focus on collecting more rocks for our labyrinth.
There are several very old stockpiles of rocks in our woods from past farmers clearing their fields that we periodically mine for ideal specimens. It is difficult work because the adjacent wooded acres have expanded to swallow the piles and years of accumulating sediment have buried all but just the top portion of some wonderful rocks that need to be excavated.
Since the extra effort it takes to get rocks from these locations tends to limit progress at any given time, we expanded our range yesterday to piles on the edge of our neighbor’s property so we could make a bigger impact on the labyrinth enhancement. It paid off handsomely.
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It was quickly apparent how much the previous rocks defining the labyrinth path have settled into the earth, some almost disappearing from sight.
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I don’t know why I would choose to wear a white shirt to wrestle rocks all day long. That’s an image of a guy who hugs dirty rocks.
By the end of the day yesterday, we were physically exhausted but emotionally energized to see a least two rows improved one step closer to the vision we share of how we’d like the borders to look someday. It will continue to be an ongoing project that advances in fits and starts.
Like building a jigsaw puzzle, the urge to make progress arises in proportion to the progress recently made. This morning, all I want to do is go back down there and add more rocks.
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Old Friends
Yesterday, Cyndie was in the vicinity enabling her to pay a visit to our horses at their current home a couple hours west of us. I am living the experience vicariously, aided by pictures.
That’s Cayenne and Dezirea who were in a corral of their own for some respite from harassing suitors seeking to be primary keepers. These ladies can definitely fend for themselves, but a little break from others is something we could all use from time to time.
At the time, Cyndie didn’t spot Hunter, but learned later he was off in one of the much larger pastures.
They looked great. Cyndie was able to untangle Dezi’s perpetual snarl in her mane.
I can tell it was a little heartbreaking for Cyndie, but still energizing to be with them again. Coincidentally, I found myself pausing in a walk with Delilah at about the same time Cyndie was with the horses, stooping to pull thistles that were overgrowing an old pile of manure in the large paddock.
I must have been feeling the reconnect they were enjoying and was drawn to the place they formerly occupied here.
Love those horses.
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Five Seconds
From the looks of the scene by the barn where Cyndie has been leaving a feed pan for the three hens, wild critters around here appear to adhere to the ol’ five-second rule when it comes to food touching the ground. By that, I mean they are showing no interest whatsoever in the copious amount of spillage kicked out and lying on the ground everywhere around the vicinity.
All-day long there are a variety of squirrels and birds that stop by to feast from within the pan of chicken food beside the waterer. Not once have we found them picking up the stuff that has fallen on the ground.
There’s a big pigeon that comes from the barn and occasionally tries to bully the hens over access to the good stuff still in the pan.
I don’t know why the overnight raccoons are steering clear. I’m even surprised there isn’t a passing dog that has trespassed in the night. No signs of any coyotes, nor skunk or stray cat. Not even deer, who wander around in groups almost every night.
All of those are creatures we have seen visiting our land over the years. None of them seem to like eating chicken food that has been laying in the dirt for more than five seconds.
Who’d of guessed they would all have such highfalutin’ standards?
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Every Year
It happens every year, but that never seems to alter the shock. August is gone and September is here. I pulled out a long-sleeved overshirt last night to ward off the chill of the cool evening air. Acorns are falling. Leaves, too.
Cyndie headed down to close the chicken coop after a phone call and found darkness almost got there first. All the birds were snugged in place, including two of the young ones who have taken to making the extra leap up to perch on a 2×4 cross-stud over the side window. Silly girls, but not unprecedented because one of the wyandottes from the last batch used to do the same thing. They’ll get over it after growing wide enough that the perch no longer seems wide enough for comfort.
While Cyndie was down at the coop, she sent me a text with a picture of the moonrise. It enticed me to want to try a similar shot with my Olympus pocket camera. I like them both.
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It didn’t necessarily feel like autumn out there last night, but it definitely felt like the end of summer.
It happens every year.
You’d think I’d get used to the transition by now, but it always seems so all of sudden.
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Maturing Wonderfully
The chicks have grown into pullets as they enter their seventh week and have completely mastered a routine of roosting in the coop overnight and romping in the fenced front yard all day long.
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Over the weekend, I found myself drawn to wander down to visit them on two separate occasions to just lay outside the fence and hang out. They have already devoured all the greenery that previously existed inside the fence so I’ve become a source of treats, dropping blades of fresh green grass inside for them.
When they pick up a blade, it often sets off a frenzy of thievery as nearby chicks move in with attempts to steal it away for their own.
By supplying these snacks I appear to be cementing my reputation as a friend-not-foe because they already come running excitedly when I announce my arrival with my best falsetto-voiced chicken greetings.
They are doing so well thus far we are wishing we could just skip ahead to merging with the adults and letting them free-range right now. Luckily, the adults made a few threatening gestures yesterday along the fence line to help me see the value of waiting until they are much closer in size.
It is good to see they are growing in familiarity with the antics of the twelve new chicks. That’s the whole point of the netting, giving them a chance to see, smell, and hear each other, but with a barrier for protection from aggression.
What’s not to love? I think they will get along famously when the time comes. The four new breeds are just so adorable!
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Garden Lesson
Of all the things we have learned in our first year of growing a produce garden, one discovery is standing out larger than all the others, literally.
Cyndie was thinking of the reputation zucchini has for growing like crazy and producing more squash than home gardeners can find uses for. Instead, she naively opted for an alternative that sounded more petite: Cupcake squash.
OOPS!
There is nothing petite about the beast that we ended up with. It quickly climbed up and over her perimeter fencing and continues to sprawl unconstrained with some of the largest leaves we’ve ever seen. At first, all this incredible growth wasn’t producing any squash, so Cyndie did some research and discovered she needed to pollinate them herself. The bees weren’t getting it done naturally. After reading how to identify the male and female flowers, she armed herself with a cotton swab and set about giving nature an assist.
The results were soon evident.
They may be small like cupcakes, but it appears this alternate squash can be just as prolific as the prodigious abundance of the more common zucchini.
Cyndie’s looking up a recipe for cupcake squash bread right now.
I’m looking forward to her taming this cupcake monster that is taking over such a large swath of our garden and surroundings.
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Even Jim
I don’t know how obvious it comes across to those of you who regularly stop by my daily dose of “things and experiences” but it is generally my habit to avoid overtly naming targets of my discontent. That is primarily a result of my house of glass being particularly vulnerable to thrown stones. Not that I ever strive to completely conceal my true opinion, however.
I tend to avoid getting into a fray that involves two directly opposing views whose participants are unlikely to waver from each of their own stances. Few, if any, issues are clearly and precisely “either one or the other” due to the reality that inequality and the reserve energy stored within is naturally inclined to move toward equilibrium and a static state.
The world is much more a mixture than it is a stash of separated ingredients.
Still, there are people who want not to perceive it as a mixture. They find ways to cope with the hypocrisy and cognitive dissonance of their views in ways I struggle to comprehend.
In the United States of America, too many have allowed themselves to accept outlandish, bizarre manipulations of reality by Donald Trump and the mysterious cadre of sycophants who enable his narcissistic kleptocracy that is wreaking havoc on this nation.
For four years I have wondered who could stop this. Each protection woven into the threads of our democracy appeared to unravel as abuses were pressed into it. At one time in my life, I perceived impeachment as an incredibly significant event. These days, it seems like a discarded tissue after wiping a nose.
Now it has come to this. Even famously apolitical comedian Jim Gaffigan has thrown in the towel on appearing immune to the spectacle of destruction. He tweeted the f-word!
If Jim can take the risk to stand up against the idiocracy, I can, too.
People responded to Jim’s outburst, complaining that as a comedian, he shouldn’t be making a statement about politics. But the same people want a failed businessman who hosted a reality tv show where he fired people to be their political leader.
Some Trump supporters defend their choice as a quest for morality and law and order. How do they fail to see the dissonance between their goals and the person they elected to get them there? How’s that working for them? Do they believe any of the lies spoken by their President?
Enough is enough, I say. Too much, even.
I’m with Jim.
One responder to Jim’s tweeted rant commented, “…couldn’t disagree with you more. Wish you saw the truth.”
In the face of two such completely opposing views of what constitutes truth, me thinks someone is failing to mix all the ingredients.
Personally, I see Donald Trump as a blatant liar.
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Trigger Words
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It’s so transparent, the malevolent words inserted as a preface to the targets of his greatest fear in any given moment. It’s a glaringly obvious tactic that is an essential weapon in every middle school bully’s arsenal.
“…radical Democrats!,” he emphasizes, striving to make them universally synonymous.
“…China virus,” he repeats in hope of deflecting blame as far away from his shoulders as possible.
He wants everyone to hear these trigger words, sympathizers, and nemeses alike.
He wants the descriptors to provoke. Who wouldn’t? I’d like to win the middle school war of words, too. Then you wouldn’t need to actually proceed to the playground fistfight that is the next result, if it came to that.
When I am tired, behind the wheel in the long commute at the end of a grueling day at work, and a soundbite plays on the radio before I can react to mute it, I am triggered to anger over the disingenuous conflations that sorrowfully smear the citizens of this democracy whose constitution he took an oath to preserve, protect, and defend.
“…anti-American protestors…” he rails while conspicuously and purposefully avoiding mention of the victims of the racially unbalanced excessive use of force by white police officers across the country that is sparking marches in the streets here and around the world by such wide cross-sections of populations as to be beyond grouping any more specific than “citizens.”
Imagine, if we could only see what his other hand is doing to the pocketbooks of the 99% while he keeps all eyes and ears on his latest tweetstorm or disinformationbook post.
I urge all voting citizens of the United States of America to look beyond the partisan rhetoric, be smarter than any social media misdirections, and give your attention to the question of where the money is going. What is the national deficit? How will you afford health care and housing and transportation when an unmanaged pandemic is raging? How will our government address the maintenance needs of our aging infrastructure in the face of a changing climate?
Vote sensibly. Don’t fall for the trigger words our middle-schooler-in-chief is trying to sell.
There are blue skies out there if we can find a way to all reach them together.
That’s the place our chickens want to go, I can tell by the way they all look at it when they settle down on the roost at dusk.
Well, that is, except for the ones that are determined to perch upon the highest possible spot they can fit on for now…
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Written by johnwhays
September 3, 2020 at 6:00 am
Posted in Chronicle
Tagged with bullying behavior, commentary, disinformation, histrionics, language, manipulation, opinion, rant, rhetoric, trigger words