Yesterday afternoon I pulled into the driveway just after sunset. I was all relaxed now that the chicken business was taken care of. A relaxed feeling can turn on a dime and my feeling of being relaxed completely changed into anxiety. I made a mistake. In my proud feeling of success at carrying a vibrating box of roosters into the car I neglected to shut the top of the chicken run. I came home to see one Cuckoo Maran perched on the run but on the outside. Crap! How many chickens was I missing? I grab a flashlight and open the egg door on the coop. Three Americaunas are cuddled up with Chickenson Caruso. I lift the Cuckoo Maran and put her inside the coop. Now, how many chickens am I missing? With the three loud and proud Polish roosters parading about it was hard to count them all. I know I had at least one more. I pull out my Daniel Boone skills. I see chicken tracks and chicken deposits on the snow. One chicken walked south and east but it looks like it went back the way it came. Another chicken walked west and into the driveway. Because the driveway has been plowed I can't tell where it went. I look up. Usually my chickens perch high. I look on top of the woodpile. No chickens there. I look on the deck railing. No chickens there. I look on the roof and in the tree branches and everywhere around. I see no chickens. I don't think there is any more I can do tonight so I go to bed and worry. In the night it comes to me that I am missing only one chicken. When morning comes I go to the deck and look outside. There she is. This girl was out all night and came home in the morning. Oh, the walk of shame. She is wearing the same feathers she left in yesterday. She came home and she's pacing back and forth outside the run looking for an opening in the fence to come home. I go out there and open the top of the run thinking she will remember how she got out. She doesn't remember. Sending my presence the other chickens come out to the run. She gets excited to see them all and it seems she thinks that if she keeps walking back and forth eventually an opening in the fence will appear. I am patient. I know, from experience, there is no hope in catching a freaked out chicken. I encourage her to go around to the door and I would open the door for her. No dice. She ducks under the coop. Oh, is that where she spent the night? Her tail doesn't fit under the coop and that is what I grab to lift her and put her in the pen. Gosh, it sure is nice to have all the hens together. My coop is made for five to six chickens and six chickens fit much better than nine. There is no end to drama when you are a chicken owner.
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Friday, December 30, 2016
Keep Crowing, Mister. Keep Crowing.
My day started at 5:15 a.m.
I was awoken by a rooster crowing.
Aloud I said, “Keep crowing Mister.
Keep crowing.” When the alarm
went off at 6 I got up and started my day. Today was going to be a high
adventure day. The roosters were going to leave. Peace will reign in the chicken coop again. I will be able to stop apologizing to my neighbors for all the noise the roosters make. I got ready for work and
put all my belongings into my car. Then
I got out my chicken deportation box and made sure the
tape held strong. I opened the garage door near the chicken coop. I lifted the lid of the chicken run to fill the water dish with liquid water. As I poured the water another rooster crowed. I said “Keep crowing Mister. Keep crowing.” I put the water jug down and looked again to see if box was ready. It was ready and I had a tarp nearby to keep the top down. I knew I could quite easily put one chicken in a box and keep it in there but I wasn’t experienced in putting three chickens in the same box. As I reached into the run for a rooster and held it in my hands it crowed again! “Keep crowing Mister. Keep crowing.” It stopped crowing and started wailing bloody murder. Both wings got loose and I had a hard time holding onto it. I tried to get a better grip but it kept spinning so I gave up and just dropped it headfirst into the box. It sat there quietly. I hoped it wasn't injured. Well, the first chicken didn’t go so well. As I reached for the second rooster I made sure to firmly grab both wings. I had this one held good and tight. It was complaining but not as much as the first chicken. I walked to the box. The flaps were down. If I let go with one hand it would start flapping. I maneuver the chicken and try to open the box using HIS bluish-green claw. For some reason he doesn’t want to help. I tried using his claw again. No dice. I press him against my coat and use my free hand to open a flap on the box. Instantly the first rooster pokes his head out looking for freedom. I drop the second rooster right on top of his feathery head and quickly shut the flaps. I put a folded up tarp on top of the box to hold the flaps down. I go back to the chicken run. The chickens saw the drama and are reacting to it by being very quiet and trying to look inconspicuous. I throw some sunflower seeds into the run for a treat but it’s still too dark to see them. The third rooster is being very quiet. After seeing what happened to his brothers he is using good survival skills and hiding. I open the egg door of the coop. There is his feathery head right there. But wait; is it the head or the tail? It’s dark. Both ends are feathery. I can’t tell. I grab the sides firmly and pick it up. As I carry it into the light of the garage I see I have the head away from my body. Good. I use this rooster’s claw to push the tarp off the box. I am holding this last rooster in such a position that I can open the flap with my elbow. This was the smoothest transfer of a chicken into the box. Swelling with pride and self-confidence I carry the box to the back seat and set it down. The chickens are vibrating. Whether from fear or cold I feel vibrations. I put the tarp on top to keep the flaps down. I hope the roosters get enough air through the holes in the sides of the box. No one is going to want a box of dead roosters. As I back out of the garage I can hear and feel the roosters adjusting themselves in the box. I drive to work taking the corners extremely slowly. I don’t want the box to move or slide. I also don’t want the tarp to slide off the top of the box. If the tarp slid off a rooster may stick it’s feathery head out of the crack, see a chance to make a break for it, and be flying around my car. What would I do? I decide if that happens I will pull over, open all four doors and get out. What if I had an accident and the box tipped over? The roosters would escape. Not only would I be in a car accident but chickens might claw me and beat me with their wings and peck me with their beaks. I think about what I am doing. I am trafficking live chickens meant to be eaten. Is this wrong? I decide my actions today are not different than buying chicken from Cub for another person to consume. In fact, this is a good thing. I am delivering fresh chicken, free range chicken that have never taken antibiotics for another person to enjoy. The fact that it is hard to find people who want to butcher chickens doesn’t make any difference. Humans are meant to be carnivores. People raise chicken to consume. I’m just playing a more central role in the process than I am used to. By the time I make it to work I am a nervous wreck. I hope the car is warm enough for them to be ok for 2 hours. I keep looking at my car out the window at work between 7:30 and 9:30. So far so good, I don’t see any chickens flying around in there. At 9:30 I leave work and go to pick up a sibling who has hatched a plan to rid me of these roosters. As I wait for the light to change I hear a rooster crow from the back seat. Seriously? “Keep crowing Mister. Keep crowing.” The three roosters crow off and on all the way from Blaine to Roseville and to the east side of Saint Paul. They make us giggle. We pull up to a store. My sister goes in to do the talking. I wait outside with the chickens. She comes back out and she carries the box. We walk past the register, down the narrow aisle to the backroom. We see an open spot on the floor. She sets the box down. She opens the box and actually pets a chicken and then secures the four flaps so they can’t open. Tarp in hand we leave. The store owner wants to give us money.
I decline. In fact I hand her a gift because I am grateful she took these noisy roosters off my hands. She insists. My sister accepts some fruit and juice. Maybe cash would have been easier for a store owner to claim on taxes. In any case, the chicken adventure is complete. Whew!
tape held strong. I opened the garage door near the chicken coop. I lifted the lid of the chicken run to fill the water dish with liquid water. As I poured the water another rooster crowed. I said “Keep crowing Mister. Keep crowing.” I put the water jug down and looked again to see if box was ready. It was ready and I had a tarp nearby to keep the top down. I knew I could quite easily put one chicken in a box and keep it in there but I wasn’t experienced in putting three chickens in the same box. As I reached into the run for a rooster and held it in my hands it crowed again! “Keep crowing Mister. Keep crowing.” It stopped crowing and started wailing bloody murder. Both wings got loose and I had a hard time holding onto it. I tried to get a better grip but it kept spinning so I gave up and just dropped it headfirst into the box. It sat there quietly. I hoped it wasn't injured. Well, the first chicken didn’t go so well. As I reached for the second rooster I made sure to firmly grab both wings. I had this one held good and tight. It was complaining but not as much as the first chicken. I walked to the box. The flaps were down. If I let go with one hand it would start flapping. I maneuver the chicken and try to open the box using HIS bluish-green claw. For some reason he doesn’t want to help. I tried using his claw again. No dice. I press him against my coat and use my free hand to open a flap on the box. Instantly the first rooster pokes his head out looking for freedom. I drop the second rooster right on top of his feathery head and quickly shut the flaps. I put a folded up tarp on top of the box to hold the flaps down. I go back to the chicken run. The chickens saw the drama and are reacting to it by being very quiet and trying to look inconspicuous. I throw some sunflower seeds into the run for a treat but it’s still too dark to see them. The third rooster is being very quiet. After seeing what happened to his brothers he is using good survival skills and hiding. I open the egg door of the coop. There is his feathery head right there. But wait; is it the head or the tail? It’s dark. Both ends are feathery. I can’t tell. I grab the sides firmly and pick it up. As I carry it into the light of the garage I see I have the head away from my body. Good. I use this rooster’s claw to push the tarp off the box. I am holding this last rooster in such a position that I can open the flap with my elbow. This was the smoothest transfer of a chicken into the box. Swelling with pride and self-confidence I carry the box to the back seat and set it down. The chickens are vibrating. Whether from fear or cold I feel vibrations. I put the tarp on top to keep the flaps down. I hope the roosters get enough air through the holes in the sides of the box. No one is going to want a box of dead roosters. As I back out of the garage I can hear and feel the roosters adjusting themselves in the box. I drive to work taking the corners extremely slowly. I don’t want the box to move or slide. I also don’t want the tarp to slide off the top of the box. If the tarp slid off a rooster may stick it’s feathery head out of the crack, see a chance to make a break for it, and be flying around my car. What would I do? I decide if that happens I will pull over, open all four doors and get out. What if I had an accident and the box tipped over? The roosters would escape. Not only would I be in a car accident but chickens might claw me and beat me with their wings and peck me with their beaks. I think about what I am doing. I am trafficking live chickens meant to be eaten. Is this wrong? I decide my actions today are not different than buying chicken from Cub for another person to consume. In fact, this is a good thing. I am delivering fresh chicken, free range chicken that have never taken antibiotics for another person to enjoy. The fact that it is hard to find people who want to butcher chickens doesn’t make any difference. Humans are meant to be carnivores. People raise chicken to consume. I’m just playing a more central role in the process than I am used to. By the time I make it to work I am a nervous wreck. I hope the car is warm enough for them to be ok for 2 hours. I keep looking at my car out the window at work between 7:30 and 9:30. So far so good, I don’t see any chickens flying around in there. At 9:30 I leave work and go to pick up a sibling who has hatched a plan to rid me of these roosters. As I wait for the light to change I hear a rooster crow from the back seat. Seriously? “Keep crowing Mister. Keep crowing.” The three roosters crow off and on all the way from Blaine to Roseville and to the east side of Saint Paul. They make us giggle. We pull up to a store. My sister goes in to do the talking. I wait outside with the chickens. She comes back out and she carries the box. We walk past the register, down the narrow aisle to the backroom. We see an open spot on the floor. She sets the box down. She opens the box and actually pets a chicken and then secures the four flaps so they can’t open. Tarp in hand we leave. The store owner wants to give us money.
I decline. In fact I hand her a gift because I am grateful she took these noisy roosters off my hands. She insists. My sister accepts some fruit and juice. Maybe cash would have been easier for a store owner to claim on taxes. In any case, the chicken adventure is complete. Whew!
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Slide Rock
On my trip out west it was a HUGE PLEASURE to introduce Slide Rock to my family members. I knew they'd love it. Oak Creek has a hard and slippery rock chute as it runs through this beautiful canyon located between Flagstaff and Sedona in Arizona. Slide Rock has a natural water slide. It's great for kids in the summer. So far I have been here twice. I came once in the summer but the canyon was closed to swimmers because of a high e-coli count. The second time I visited was in December and it was open to swimming but Brrrr - too cold! Someday it would be nice to swim in it. I am not sure if I can take the rock slide down. The water moves pretty fast and I don't want to get banged up on the rocks. The younger version of me would have jumped at the chance to slide down these beautiful red rocks. On this visit I had to be content to walk on the rocks up and down the creek bed. I maybe should have taken it a little easier. I'm not at my strongest yet after hip replacement a month earlier. I walked up the canyon and got myself stuck. The rock was too high to climb up. I was right on the edge of the water so I couldn't go that way. In order to get back to the beginning I had to sit on the rock ledge and slide myself downstream one butt width at a time. That was a lot of sideways sliding and this movement, repeated 30 times, resulted in a sonic wedgie; the worst wedgie of my life. My personal care attendant (sibling) was there to help me out so she watched guard as I adjusted myself in privacy. This trip to Slide Rock was extra special because I got a "lifer" there. I saw an American dipper. And what was the American dipper do? The American dipper dipped! Every few seconds the American dipper would do a deep knee bend. I think it's hilarious when a bird is named for it's behavior. Well, woodpeckers aren't as funny but that is only because I've seen and heard so many. Another good name for it would be American bobber. After frequent dipping the American dipper would submerge itself in the fast moving stream. Water was sluicing over it's head creating new ripples. While walking on the stream bed or swimming this little bird eats aquatic insects and other snacks that can be found in a fast moving stream. Seeing this unexpected little bird brought me great joy to my trip. Here is a picture!
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
Did You Ever Have A Family?
This book was part of my vacation to the southwest reading. I really enjoyed Did You Ever Have A Family? by Bill Clegg. Each chapter is from a different point of view although two women, June and Lydia, have several chapters. The book starts out with a tragedy and then weaves back and forward in time to explain why June and Lydia grieve the way that they grieve. These two women are not the typical mourners. June and Lydia are not typical women. I venture to guess Bill Clegg is not the typical writer because, without much dialog, he was able to write about deep interpersonal relationships. His insight is almost feminine. Great book to read if you have the time.
Monday, December 26, 2016
That Moment!
The holiday season involves gift giving and gift receiving. Personally? I love the gift giving more than the gift receiving. Because that moment, when a person opens a gift and loves it! OMG, what greater joy is there? I struck gold twice in the gift giving department this year two times with my granddaughter. First it was a banana in the Christmas stocking. Who puts a banana in a Christmas stocking? I don't know. I guess I did. Stop all gift opening while the granddaughter eats said banana and her mother tries to keep banana residue off her beautiful Christmas dress with matching hat. PS She won't wear the hat. It matches but no matter, she doesn't want to wear it. Second gift was a "Bobby," also known as bunny, also known as Alilo player. She LOVED it and I was so happy. It is shaped like a bunny (pronounced bobby). It has soft ears that can be chewed and lots of buttons. My granddaughter (and we have this in common) loves to push buttons. The allilo has lots of buttons. You can play songs or books or recordings. I (with the help of Offspring #2) downloaded important songs like Raffi, Mule Skinner Blues, Purple People Eater, and the Beatles Yellow Submarine. And there are sentimental songs like Mama Cass singing "Dream a little dream of me." And then there are classic American songs like "Davy Crockett" and "On Top of Spaghetti." There is the option to record your own songs so I (after practicing 8 times) sang a regrettably terrible version of "My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean" with Bonnie replace with my granddaughter's actual name. It was a terrible recording and I cringed whenever she played it but my gift was a hit and my holiday season was complete.
Hers is blue; not pink. Who says boys own the color blue? |
Friday, December 23, 2016
Lost
I got a new car in May. So far I like it very much. I get great mileage. I make a lot of use of the sun roof. I like how it handles the road. I like all the passenger space. With the bright yellow color I never have trouble finding it in a parking lot. I just have a couple complaints. For some unknown reason, the front passenger seatbelt looks like it has been gnawed by mice at one spot on both sides of the belt. I don't know what happened there but it looks very serious. My second complaint is that it has lost the new car smell. Not only has it lost the new car smell, that new car smell has been replaced with a smell, well, how do I describe this nicely? Manure comes to mind. Manure is nicer than other words. I think the problem started this early winter when I had to use the defrost. I never used the AC in the summer. I have a sun roof so I had no need of the AC. But to get the frost off the windshield the AC is used and that is when the smell started. Maybe there is mold in a vent? You'd think with all the heat I'm using that smell would go away but it doesn't. New passengers smell it more than I do. I guess I'm used to the smell. I put an air freshener in the car so now it smells like spring rain AND manure. Some people think the smell is slightly different than manure. In either case, my car has definitely LOST the new car smell.
Thursday, December 22, 2016
So Grand It's Beyond Comprehension
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
The "Ickies!"
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Colorado Means Red
I would love to travel through this park on a guided tour by a geologist. Perhaps they could explain how this rocks stays balanced. |
Some of the arches were large and thick and others were thinner. We saw where some arches fell in recently. I had a good blend of hiking and riding in the car at this park. |
What a fascinating place is Arches National Park! |
Monday, December 19, 2016
Sunday, December 18, 2016
Traveling
I'm not sure what this is at Motezuma's Well but it wanted it's picture taken. |
Ravens are large and loud out west. This raven was at Arches State Park! |
Friday, December 16, 2016
Friday, December 9, 2016
A Pleasant Surprise
What a pleasant surprise, on checking on my chickens, to find a brown egg in the coop. I did not expect that on this dark, short December evening. Who laid the egg? None of the three Polish because they're all roosters. None of the three Americaunas because they lay green eggs. It must be my elderly Buff Orpington, Chickenson Caruso (unlike) or one of the 3 Cuckoo Marans. I haven't collected an egg since July! What a pleasant surprise!
The Kitchen House
I got The Kitchen House by Kathleen Grissom because it is a best seller. Some people compared it to The Help. I would recommend you read this book under certain conditions. Is your life too happy? Is everything going your way? Do you feel so positively elated that you can't stand it? Then read The Kitchen House because this novel is so depressing it will pop your happy bubble in the first chapter. The writing is good and I liked the character development but the things that happen on this plantation in Virginia are too sad to bear. Oh, the melodrama! Rape, torture, abandonment, and betrayal are repeated and repeated. You might need a prescription for an anti-depressant when you finish this very engaging book.
Thursday, December 8, 2016
Meant to Last A Lifetime
Although I decline the senior discount and haven't joined AARP, I jumped at the chance to get a lifetime membership in the United Stated National Parks Service. Thinking ahead to my retirement and my plan to drive all the continental United states plus the provinces of Canada, a life time national park pass seemed like a lovely idea. Plus I knew I might have some national parks plans for this winter. So, almost a year ago, a sibling bought me a lifetime pass. This week I went to find it. Immediately I found the holder to put the pass on your windshield and the pamphlet explaining the benefits but could not find the actual pass. What! Meant to last a lifetime and I lost it before I could even use it once single flipping time? I searched and searched. I found things from 30 years ago that I didn't even know I had. A second trip through my tiny purse where I keep important cards and there it was. How I wish I had looked more closely the first time I went through that purse. Anyway, the good news if I found it and plan to use it often in my lifetime (if I can keep track of it).
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Phil Diller
Ten days ago I caught one of my roosters and brought him to his new home. We dropped him off in Oak Grove where he has a most luxurious and spacious coop to share with his new flock of females. I was sure he was a rooster when I put him in the box but as soon as I got home I worried. Maybe he wasn't a rooster. Today I got the confirmation I needed. Phil is indeed a Phil and not a Phyllis. He is crowing loud and proud many, many times a day. He moved right into his new life and is adjusting well. I even got his see his photo. Good to know!
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
Commonwealth
There are six siblings in the book Commonwealth by Ann Patchett. Two Keating children and four Cousins children become related when the Keating mother marries the Cousins father. They spend time together as a blended family. The story was so real I was constantly reminded of a friend of mine who also grew up in a blended family. One thing I really liked about this story is that even though the author mentions a gun, one of the kids has a gun, no gun is ever fired. That doesn't happen very often. I'm a big fan of Ann Patchett.
Monday, December 5, 2016
The Reluctant Dragon
Once upon a time I held a newborn boy. He kicked his tiny heels kicked against my belly while Offspring #2 kicked back from the other side of my belly. His face is a masculine version of my sibling's face. Offspring #2 wasn't born yet but this baby was cute as all get out. Now, he is a published playwright and the director of a play. He wrote a play! And it was published! And 60+ people performed in that play! And it was funny! Hundreds of people attended the Sunday matinee performance. Success! People laughed out loud. I laughed out loud. Sarcasm; it's a family thing. I watched the performance of "The Reluctant Dragon" and was so happy at my nephew's success! If only my mother and my grandparents could see this! They would certainly burst with pride. Wow. Just Wow! Stand back and let the younger generation take over. Watch out world! Just call me "Steve." Watch out for my inner dragon!
I'm Back!
Three weeks after my second hip replacement I was back to work. Was it hard to come back? I have to admit it was a little hard but not as hard as sitting in a theater for two hours. But the theater experience was good too because I learned that if I sit with my knees higher than my hips - it hurts. I had such a warm welcome at work I didn't need any pain relievers. I was welcomed back. I was missed. My mail box was 90% full which is job security! I had 250 emails and only one voice mail. Twenty years ago it would have been a much different scenario. I'm not sure I had email at work 20 years ago and I would have come back to 40+ voice mails. Although I got out of the house most days, I was sick to death of staying at home. I ate lunch with my coworkers and just being there made the food taste better. My appetite improved! I forgot how much I enjoy working. People are fascinating and that is why I enjoy working so much. One of the things I do is to offer a drink of water or coffee to people who come to meetings. I took a long time to get coffee for one young woman. My slow pace of walking wasn't the reason I was slow. I was slow because I got into a conversation with a coworker. Another joker of a coworker noticed how long it took me to get that coffee. Although he never drinks coffee, he jokingly asked for a cup just to be the funny man that I know he is. "Get your own dang coffee!" I told him to the laughter of everyone at the meeting. Golly, it is good to be back.
Sunday, December 4, 2016
Skunks and Weasels?
Last night my chapter of Master naturalists had a holiday party with an Italian theme. I made eggplant. Specifically I made Eggplant Siciliano Comporte which is a recipe I found on the internet and it was really good. Eggplant, onions, celery, tomatoes, garlic, fresh basil, pine nuts - what's not to like? We all had a good time eating pasta and talking together. I sat next to a guy with a white beard with a red shirt. The red shirt had big white buttons and a black belt. Actually he was wearing a sweat shirt made to look like a Santa shirt. I've seen these car commercials on television lately where the parent gets the kid to ask Santa for a new car and it works. I thought I had better take advantage of this opportunity so I asked my dinner partner if he would get me another trip to Italy for Christmas. He said he would work on it. Doesn't hurt to ask. After dinner we discussed our plans for next year. We got a big line up of speakers and field trips. For one month we had an option of several topics to learn about. One of the topics was skunks and weasels. The excitement in the room went up and several people spoke up for skunks and weasels. It was crazy. Well, I wanted skunks and weasels too but it was like asking a group of third graders if they wanted one recess or two recesses today. What a bunch of nerds! Skunks and weasels. I love these people.
Saturday, December 3, 2016
2916 MOU Paper Session
Today I went to the last Minnesota Ornithological Union paper session at the old Bell Museum. Starting next year it will be at the new Bell Museum Planetarium in Falcon Heights. This was the last time to see all the dioramas. Dioramas are part drawing and part scenery with stuffed animals such as moose, sand hill cranes, raccoons, fox squirrels, spruce grouse mourning doves and all kinds of other animals. I love how the ground cover on the dioramas blends into the painting. They're moving 10 dioramas. We have more than 10 here. Some look a little tattered but I could not be the one to decide which dioramas stay and which ones go. I would want them all to go. Although it wasn't easy to sit all day with my new hip, I was in the back row where I could sit on my art deco seat, sit on the seat in an upright position or stand without bothering too many people. I made it through. I learned a lot. I learned about the relationship between the Bell Museum and the MOU, common terns, and the effect of the BP spill if the Gulf Of Mexico. The oil dispersant BP used on the oil spill was more toxic than the oil itself and did not cause the oil to disperse but only to sink to the bottom where it couldn't been seen by anyone than the Minnesota loons who dive down that deep looking for fish. So far our loon population doesn't seem to be affected but it's too early to tell. We learned about the waste water treatment plants and how to encourage communities to let us in there to look for birds instead of fencing them off. And we learned about the Sam Zim bog. I'm already in love with that bog so although I totally enjoyed that video, I was already hooked. And I saw other birders I know so today was a good day.
Friday, December 2, 2016
The Bird Saviors
The Bird Saviors is another lucky find for me at the library. William J. Cobb wrote a book about, well not exactly about but there is an ornithologist in the story. This fellow is counting birds near Pueblo, Colorado because the bird species are going extinct one after the other. He hires a young girl to help him count birds. The young girl, Ruby, is a mother of a baby and the daughter of a veteran who suffers from mental and physical health issues. Throw in some criminals with a good heart, good cops with a checkered past, some scum bags, and some Mormon fundamentalists and you got yourself a good story.
Cock-A-Doodle-Do-Do-Do (Or The Truth Is Finally Revealed This Morning).
Since July I have wondered who was a hen and who was a rooster in my flock. As of this morning at 7:30 I know. I think I know. With my first flock of chickens I remember being confused. I was sure Dwight was a rooster but thought maybe Angela was bisexual. Turned out Angela was a rooster too. Angela (Or Angelo as he was later named) was a little slower coming into sexual maturity. Now I know more than I did then. On Sunday I got rid of one Polish rooster. I knew both Polish chickens with beautiful silver heads were male. I had one silver and two black headed Polish left. I knew for sure the silver one and one of the black ones was a rooster. All week I've been listening to the silver one crow and the black one crow 20 seconds later in a lower tone. Today was different. I was up early and heading to the gym at 7:30 when I heard the silver one crow, the black one crow, and a third crow. Say what? I pulled my car out of the garage and backed up to get a good view of the chickens. I lowered my passenger window. On cue the silver one crowed, one of the black ones crowed and the other black one straightened it's body, stretched it's skinny neck, and let go of a feeble Cock a doodle doo. I have 3 Polish roosters. The third one was a little late coming into sexual maturity. What are the chances that 4/4 Polish chicks would be male? I really shouldn't ask that question. After all I have 5 sisters and 1 brother so I should know better. Awww! I kinda wanted a Polish hen. Oh, well. Now it will be easier to deport the roosters.
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Piece of Mind
Another lucky find for me on the library shelf was Piece of Mind by Michelle Adelman. This is a story about Lucy. Lucy was in a car accident when she was three and sustained a traumatic head injury. She struggles with the executive functions of her brain. She can't keep track of time. She doesn't remember to eat or to shower or to go to appointments. Lucy relies on her father to take care of her. He does the best he can until his death. Lucy moves in with her college aged younger brother who is still a kid himself. I loved reading about the bond between the siblings. Without her father to lean on Lucy becomes more independent in ways no one would expect. Lucy still needs help but so do most of us in this world. The author chose this topic because she has a sister with a brain injury. This is not her sister's story but the illustrations in the book are done by her sister.
There Is Something I Want You To Do
One good thing about having hip surgery and being off work is that it gives me more time to read. Before I went to the hospital I stopped at the library and chose random books set facing the aisles. At my library, the librarians choose their favorite books and set those sideways. I've had great luck getting books that way and it was my good fortune to pick up Charles Baxter's There is Something I Want You To Do. I chose this one because it was a collection of short stories. I was worried that I would not be able to focus on a long novel right away. Each short story was about a different person living in Minneapolis. Some of them meet each other but most don't. The ten stories come in two categories: virtues and vices. One of the characters in a pediatrician and he appears in several stories. Like the others, he is a genuine person trudging through life trying to do his best. This was an excellent book.
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Enjoy The Christmas Cactus Putting On A Show
Monday, November 28, 2016
Beard!
I know I am lucky to be at home during the day to see the birds in my yard. Goldfinch groups crowd my feeders in their less than yellow costumes. Robins visit. Blue jays and cardinals visit. Woodpeckers of all Minnesota varieties visit. Even turkeys come by to scratch the lawn below the bird feeders. One turkey stands out from the rest. One turkey has the bluest and most naked head with a big old beard hanging from it's chest. This beard is almost long enough to step on. What possible evolutionary reason is there for this beard? Isn't it a tripping hazard? Or is it display of manliness? Of the 15 turkeys visiting my yard, this turkey has the biggest beard. I have to confess - I've always been a fan of beards and other facial hair. Grizzly Adams? Grrr! Full moustaches? Grrr! Sam Elliot? Grrr! Tom Selleck? Grrr! I don't lust after this turkey but I have to respect his manly beard!
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Deportation
He doesn't seem happy to leave this overcrowded run and tiny coop. But he rides quietly to Oak Grove. |
Phil Diller, the great comic of the chicken coop, he does thank me. I don't notice until I get home that I have a big pile of fresh rooster manure on my shoe. |
What Are We Grateful For in 2016?
I ask my Thanksgiving guests to fill out a form and we read the list before our meal. This year we are grateful for Alex, AJ, Abby, Babies, Beanna, Catey, Calvin, Dad, David, Evengeline, Food, Family, Gary, Grandpa, health care, ibuprofen, Janet, Joan, Jeremy, Jenny, Kathleen, Ken, Laura, Lilly, Lucas, Mark, Michelle Matt, movie theater, no shave Nobember, Oxygen, officer, paychecks, quinoa, Ryan, Sam Sean, Scott, Teresa, Tyler, tacos, Unicorns, underwear, violin, work, x-rays, youtube, and Zach.
Saturday, November 26, 2016
Friday, November 25, 2016
Most Astonishing Results from 2016 Thanksgiving Art Contest
This artist has a darker side. The title says "Happy Thanksgiving" but two of the turkey chicks hold weapons and notice one chick doesn't look like them. |
I don't know what medium this artist used but the shiny brown substance looked a lot like gravy. |
This artist is using a Despicable Me theme. |
This artist makes good use of the color purple. Notice the 3 chicks all look different. One has a pink mohawk. |
This is one of the 3 entries that the artist took home with him or her. I'm lucky to get any pictures. I see rainbows. |
This artist also took his or hers home. There are tiny people in this artwork who are in danger of being gobbled up by the turkeys. Creative thought process going on here. |
I can't read all the words on this one because this artist also took it away but the top line reads "Yes, my children." Now I would really like to know what else is written. |
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Lake Phalen
Today I had a pleasant walk around Lake Phalen. Some of my walk was on a tarred path and some of it was on the road.
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