Posts Tagged ‘New Hampshire’
Hiking Foothills
Friday started with a breakfast of some eggs, bacon, a variety of fruits, and three different flavor versions of Cyndie’s fresh-baked scones. That became fuel we used to go for a short hike up Foss Mountain in Eaton, New Hampshire. The area is among the foothills of the White Mountains.
The most significant portion of the expedition is the need for four-wheel drive, high clearance navigation up the steep, rarely-graded one-lane gravel incline to reach a small parking area for the final half-mile walk to the top. There was one other vehicle parked when we arrived, and we found a family of three at the top as we reached the peak. I snapped today’s primary photo, capturing the man patiently waiting for his balloon to look just right for a picture he was after.
The scenery around Foss Mountain is prime territory for viewing the brilliant colors of autumn leaves. The ground along the climb and around the rocky surfaces at the top is covered with blueberry bushes. The vast fields on the way up are privately owned and off limits for picking, but visitors are free to collect berries at the top. We showed up between the seasons of fall colors and ripe berries.
You take what you get, and we were no less rewarded, being there on a warm, blue-sky September day.
Having just returned from bicycling in the Black Hills of South Dakota, I looked at the steep, rough gravel road with appreciation that I wasn’t pedaling my way up and back down the incline.
Barry drove us along two different winding scenic routes to and from the hike, extending our New Hampshire adventure with time to take in a multitude of classic New England views, including quaint communities, old burial grounds, beautiful landscapes, and wonderful old homes, farms, small businesses, and churches.
Stumbling upon Bobby Sue’s Homemade Ice Cream and Waffle Cones shop was a bonus. Even though we hadn’t had lunch yet, we treated ourselves to dessert first. It was as divine as our minds hoped it was going to be.
It served as a delicious accent to emphasize that we were on a vacation from our usual routines.
Pullets Aplenty
We were only away for two days, but upon our return, it was hard to find any signs remaining in our latest brood of chicks that identifies them as chicks anymore. They are reasonably qualified as pullets now, up until they become actual egg-laying hens. After checking on Pequenita and walking Delilah, and then saying hello to the three adult hens, we climbed into the netted front yard of the coop to commune with the young ones.
Last week, Cyndie constructed an added wing to the enclosure, cutting the old net to create an opening to the added space on fresh grass. That area encompassed an old wooden spool to which the girls all took a quick liking.
A cluster of them gathered up there to preen feathers together after the treats ran out that we had been offering up from the palms of our hands.
One of the friendly Dominiques hopped up to perch on my arm. I’m not sure if she was simply showing off about how comfortable she is with us or if she was specifically intending to lay claim on me and garner something of higher ranking over all the others as a result.
I was more than happy to oblige.
Alas, that only resulted in one of the New Hampshires one-upping the competition to show who’s boss by climbing on Cyndie’s back.
Those legs look like drumsticks. Next thing you know, that young one just might surprise us with practice crowing one of these days. None of the other two-month-olds are anywhere close to matching the pace of development of that one.
The other New Hampshire doesn’t have near the comb or wattle growth yet. However, she does have pretty good balance and wing action going for her.
The feather-footed Light Brahma appears to be doing a bit of a shuffle beneath her, doesn’t she? Look at those dance moves, cha-cha-cha.
There was plenty of action inside the fencing with our dozen pullets yesterday afternoon.
It was a pleasing “welcome home” to rural life once again.
Thankfully, no masks required.
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Eight Days
Yesterday, our chicks reached the mighty age of eight days old. I recorded another video for Judy.
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I’m afraid there is one chick who has not kept up the pace of growth with the rest of the brood and that may spell doom for her, in terms of longevity. Otherwise, the rest are exercising their little wings and sprinting about, eating and drinking with gusto, and appear to be having a rollicking good time with their present confines.
We are not counting the eggs that they will eventually produce yet, but we are feeling hopeful for their chances of growing to the next level.
Oh, they grow up so fast.
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Relative Something 