Posts Tagged ‘broken eggs’
Tragic Ending
We had a really brilliant day yesterday, tending to things around the lake place. A large limb that had fallen into the yard was cut up and tossed back into the woods. Felt a little like I was still at home. Elysa and I tended to a portion of the labyrinth path, dispatching the lovely plants that were growing where we didn’t want them. A second trip to town to buy flowering plants occurred, so I spent some time moving giant planters and garden hoses out of the garage where they had been stored for the winter.
The caretaker was planning to come to swap the storm windows around the sunroom for screens, so I spent time clearing a pathway in the garage to the back wall where the screens are stored. Everything seemed to be humming along smoothly.
Speaking of humming, the hummingbirds took an instant liking to the flowering plants and the fresh serving of sugar water Cyndie put out. A robin momma was ever-present on a nest on an outdoor light by the sliding door to the deck.
The four eggs explained why the bird was hanging around despite all the human activity. Unfortunately, the strong breeze of the afternoon resulted in tragedy for our feathered friend.
Many sad exclamations were uttered over the awful scene, but we soon carried on with our landscape primping and garage cleaning with stoic tenacity. I brought out the benches around the fireplace, which inspired us to build a fire for cooking dinner. Ladder golf apparatus came out, and Elysa and Ande put them to immediate use.
Raindrops teased in the middle of the afternoon, but never became real rain until the middle of the night last night. Today, we expect to do fewer chores and more lounging around, enjoying the gorgeous scenery and the pretty flowers, smartly arranged.
An embarrassment of riches amid the occasional natural tragedy.
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Alternative Location
I mowed the paddocks on Sunday. Knowing the kids were coming mid-morning, I headed out to the shop garage to move equipment around for access to the brush mower and watch for their arrival. I didn’t see Elysa’s car drive past, but looked up and noticed it parked by the house all of a sudden. A second later, I looked up to find Julian’s Jeep parked there, too. How they both got past me without my seeing them drive by is a complete mystery.
So much for that plan.
After chasing Julian around on his Onewheel, I left him to do more practice laps and hopped on the tractor. Elysa opened gates for me and stood on the lookout for wandering chickens.
I didn’t realize that Cyndie had reported a headcount of only seven hens located and I sent Elysa off to can pickles after I’d made a few passes around the perimeter. It seemed to me that I would be able to spot chickens if they showed up.
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When I got closer to the middle of the paddock, the grass was so tall and thick that it was impossible to see what I was mowing over. I looked up after navigating a tight circle around one of the high spots and I caught sight of one Golden Laced Wyandotte slowly and calmly walking away from the grass toward the paddock fence.
Had she been hiding in the tall grass, just as I feared possible? I wasn’t entirely sure, but the thought was unsettling.
The paddocks looked pretty good when I was finished. After six years of successful close maneuvering, I finally broke my first fence board when I miscalculated while backing up to turn around. Curses!
Cyndie took Delilah for a walk through the newly mowed grass and the dog sniffed out where the Wyandotte had been.
It looked like my tractor tire rolled over about ten eggs in the hen’s alternative to our nest boxes.
We are hoping the loss of cover will help convince the vagabond bird to return her laying habit to the coop.
Is it possible to teach old hens new tricks?
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Relative Something 