Pamela

Pamela.  A Cute Chick.

Even as a week old chick, Pamela was distinctive.  Her dark coloring set her apart from her peers.  She was dark and she was small.  Her behavior set her apart as well.  From the time we could distinguish the hens from the roosters, Pamela hung around the roosters.  If the hens were pecking near the rhubarb and Dwight moved toward the compost, Pamela was there, right at his side.  If all the chickens were in a tight group, Pamela was closest to Dwight or closest to Angela (who later was named Angelo once we realized she was a he).   All the chickens could be busy scratching and pecking but if a rooster moved away from the group, Pamela was the always the first to notice and the first to follow.  This meant she got mounted more often than the other hens.  My early impression of her is that she was one of those sexist women.  Do you know what I mean?  I know several of these sexist women.  A sexist woman will seek unnecessary attention from men.  If a sexist woman had a screw loose (and they often do) and they see two people in front of them (one a woman holding a screwdriver and the other a man not holding a screwdriver), the sexist woman will ask the man for help.  OK, I will stop ranting about one of my pet peeves.  My point is that even though Pamela hung around the roosters, she was not a sexist chick.  Once the roosters were culled, Pamela hung around Meredith.  In a coop with no roosters, Meredith took over as the head honcho.  Meredith stayed the boss except for a couple days she spent recuperating after she was abducted by the gray fox.  This means Pamela was not sexist.  Pamela was a survivor.  Pamela had street smarts.  Well, no streets were involved.  Pamela had yard smarts.  She was watching out for her own safety.  If a hawk flew over the yard, who noticed and ran under the deck?  Pamela.  If I had sunflower seeds in my hand ready to lure the chickens back into the coop, Pamela noticed first.  Pamela paid more attention to her environment.  When the gray fox abducted Meredith, I wondered why it didn't try to get Pamela who was smaller instead.  I suspect Pamela saw (or smelled) the gray fox first and took steps to protect herself.  I am going to miss Pamela.  She was one of a kind.

Pamela is in the lower right corner of the photo, back to the camera, staying close to Meredith.

RIP Pamela

Pamela is on the right.

Pamela The Chicken, hatched April 14, 2009, from Ramsey, Minnesota died on November 2, 2011 of natural causes.  She died outside on a sunny day in the green grass next to her water dish.  She was preceeded in death by brothers/husbands Dwight and Angela(o), sisters Phyllis and Kelly.  She is survived by her sister Meredith.  Pamela was a lover of life, black sunflower seeds, sandy soil to bathe in, and the bugs found in the compost pile.  She will be deeply missed.

Another Scary Sight

I Remember The Halloween of 1991

In 1991 I had a seven year old and a three year old, good ages for trick or treating.  Did I plan an old fashioned evening of costumes and door-to-door begging for candy?  Not exactly.  I signed us up for the school carnival where I volunteered to work at the fish pond while the others enjoyed themselves in the school gymnasium.  They had costumes on.  Offspring #1 really wanted to go trick or treating.  I promised him we would - just as soon as the carnival was over.  I said, "I promise you can go trick or treating tonight."  Thinking back, I'm not really sure why the school had a carnival on this holiday evening.  I don't think it was a fundraiser.  In any case, my job was in the fish pond.  I didn't get the fun job of interacting with the children and watching their excitement as they fished for prizes.  I was assigned the "behind the scene" job of attaching prizes to the clothes pins "hooks."  I stayed behind the fishing screen.  Since the screen was shorter than I was, I had to bend over the entire time so I wouldn't be seen.  I guess they thought the kids believed in magical fishing or something.  Seriously, did they think kids thought prizes automatically clipped themselves to the clothes pins?  The person in front would whisper clues to me so I would know what kind of prize to attach.  The clues were "preschool girl" or "older boy" and things like that.  From that brief description I could decide which piece of worthless trash to clip onto the string.  After about an hour of bending over and getting hit in the noggin with flying clothes pins, I was ready to call it quits. My head hurt and my thighs were screaming.  But I couldn't let these children down.  The fish pond was located in a corner of the gymnasium near a fire exit door.  The room got hot and stuffy as the evening wore on.  Someone behind me opened the fire door for a breath of air.  Holy crap!  It was snowing!  Not only was it snowing but it was almost knee high already!  My brain could not comprehend what my eyes were seeing.  My heart sank a little.  Did I make a promise I could not keep?  My offspring was going to be so MAD at me if he couldn't go trick or treating tonight.  Offspring #2 wouldn't care but Offspring #1 was going to care enough for half a dozen children.  I made my apologies to the volunteer person at the fish pond and high tailed it out of there.  I found my family and we headed outside.  The deep snow and slippery roads made for a long trip back to our neighborhood.  And Offspring #1 WAS NOT HAPPY!  He made his feelings clear.  So we stopped at the first house on our block that had a porch light illuminated.  I waited in the car while his father helped Offspring #1 through the thigh-high snow.  (The snow was thigh high on a full grown man, not a seven year old).  Lucky for us, they had candy.  They were totally surprised to see anyone out trick-or-treating in this weather but they had candy.  If I remember right that might have been the only house with a light on all the way home.  Offspring #1 was still mad.  And he had every right to be mad. One house does not trick-or-treating make.  My condolences and commenting that we had lots of candy that never got handed out did not help the situation.  Offspring #1 might still be mad.  I'm afraid to ask.

Happy Halloween

Watching

My new birdfeeder has been up for several weeks now.  So far it has proven to be squirrel proof.  Today I watched as six gray squirrels sat underneath my two feeders eating the leftovers the birds had thrown to the ground.  Now that I have conquered the squirrels (at least temporarily), I can appreciate them more. One came up on the deck to drink water from the bird bath.  It had muscular little legs and a intelligent look.  Squirrels aren't so bad WHEN THEY'RE NOT EATING THE BLACK SUNFLOWER SEEDS THAT COST ME MORE THAN $32 FOR A FIFTY POUND BAG!

The Evil Buckthorn

Yesterday I took a day to catch up on chores in the yard.  My hamstrings are singing today so I know I got a lot of work done.  I picked up all the leaves and filled the two compost piles.  I spread a layer of dirt between every three bags of grass and leaves to innoculate the mixture with microorganisms that will chew those leaves and grass clippings into healthy, rich compost.  I let the chickens out to roam, filled the bird feeders, and emptied the rainbarrel and put it away for the season. I reached my arm W A Y  down into the pond to lift the water lily out and store it in the garage for the winter - a cold and slimy task.  I cleaned out the coop and gave the chickens fresh bedding and food.  I dug out the bulbs and threw out the annuals on the deck.  When I got the ladder out by the oak tree to replace the nose that fell off my "tree face" a pileated woodpecker landed about 5 feet from my head.  I hugged the oak tree and held my breath as I balanced on the ladder with a mixture of fear and awe as the female woodpecker hopped about on the branch.  She flew away after about 10 seconds but those were 10 awesome seconds!  I spent two hours fighting the war against invasive buckthorn.  I worked on the area next to my driveway again. I took out at least 100 trees ranging in size from 12 inches to 18 feet.  I had to use my bow saw on about 10 trees, they were that thick.  I used my nippers on the smaller trees.  Every tree trunk was sprayed with "Brush B Gone."  In the fall, the buckthorn will pull it's liquids down into the roots so fall is the perfect time to spray buckthorn stumps with poison. I told some trees to "suck it" as I sprayed poison on the cut.  The buckthorn is a crafty tree.  Although easy to find because of their waxy dark green leaves in the fall when most of the other trees are bare, some grow crooked so you can hardly find their trunk.  Some of the smaller trees will hide their trunk under the leaves so you can't spray them with poison unless you move the leaves.  Some buckthorn will grow smaller branches that slap you in the face as you cut down the main trunk.  I spent two hours cutting and poisoning buckthorn and I didn't get them all.  I will keep working on it.  I notice my neighbors have lots of buckthorn growing in their woods too.  If there are buckthorn large enough to bear fruit in the neighborhood, it will keep coming back.  The buckthorn berries have a laxative effect.  One master naturalist told me that a buckthorn berry will spend twenty seconds in a bird before being expelled from the other end.  I don't know if that is true but it sure is an impressive figure.