The Wild Life

"Well, that's a strange-looking turkey," I thought as I sat milking and looking up at the girls in the corner of the pen.  All I could see at the moment was the head moving along behind the goats.  Strolling along the drive by the fence line was a great blue heron, nonchalant as you please.  This isn't the first I've seen here, but it's always a surprise.  Previously it's been in very early morning down in the pasture, and this bird was out for a walk well after sunrise and right by the herd.  As I watched, the heron lifted its wings and took off in flight.  Talk about big!

All the girls seemed happy to be back in their routine yesterday, forgiving me for their one-day abandonment.  My advice to anyone thinking about getting goats, especially dairy goats, is to be ready for total commitment.

Camille called, heartsick because one of her young cats had gone missing.  The recent chicken raids convince her that the coyotes struck again.  A neighbor of hers, new to the area, just lost a small daschund.  I had not planned for Ralph and Celeste to be strictly indoor cats, but I couldn't bear to lose either one of them as I did Frank.  Neither seems anxious to go outside, so I will continue to clean the litter box and hope for a long life together.  The pack of coyotes seems to have grown, and they're certainly bolder than they have been in the past.  Most of these kills have been in broad daylight.  Bessie is ten years old now and rarely leaves my side.  We go outdoors and come back in together, and she never leaves the property.  While I love to see free-range chickens in the yard, it's just as well the little girls are penned now.

Living here is not without drama and mystery.  Moments of comedy are followed by tragedy.  It is truly the wild life.

The Cure

An afternoon spent going in circles (on the mower) is the perfect antidote for a morning spent in the city.  It calms the mind and soothes the soul.  Now the front and side yards look just as good as the west field.  The back and back side yards were the last done before and are still neat and tidy.  It's not surprising that a good deal of what had been green is going brown, but brown isn't nearly as pretty.

The pomegranate plant is more a bush than a tree.  It seems to be making up for years of inactivity by throwing out dozens of blossoms and is busy setting fruit.  The plant itself is lush and green.  Camille showed me her pomegranate twig, planted two years ago.  She was thinking it might be dead or dying.  I told her not to give up hope.  They seem to be slow starters.

Asking someone to tend the goats is asking a huge favor.  I'd explained the system to Cam and she's done it before, but one never knows what goats will do.  With only me here, the girls are not well socialized and are easily spooked by the presence of strangers.  Given the change in sleeping arrangements, Cam was able to get Inga and Sheila in and milked without too much trouble.  They both stood and shook while Cam did the deed.  Tessie needed time and coaxing to come in, and Cindy was a real butt-head (literally) as Camille was leaving.  "You are not our Mom and you do not belong here.  Get out now!"  Camille had to swing a rope around to keep the self-appointed herd guardian away so she could get up the hill.

Number Two Son was just finishing taking down a couple of big limbs from the oak over the woodpile when I returned from the valley.  They were so heavy, they were threatening to split the trunk.  His girlfriend was acting as unpaid helper, throwing the leafy stuff over into the pen and making the goats very, very happy.  By next winter, the big pile of rounds will be seasoned and ready to split for firewood.  That will make me very, very happy.

The activities of the afternoon cured the "trauma" of the morning, so it was a good day after all.

After-Dark Adventures

Another mouth to feed.  Look at the size of this toad!

The story will have to wait...on a dead run here now.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig.  Whew!  It's hard to describe how much I dislike "going to town" after living in the foothills alone for so many years.  Traffic makes me no never mind; it's all those people!  I was urged to snap a "selfie," as it was the first time in 1-2 years I've worn a dress.  I had full intentions of doing so for publication, but I was so glad to get home that I stripped off the dress, etc., and jumped back into my bibbies even before giving Bessie Anne her "Mom's home" treat.  I had even put on lipstick(!), so the selfie would have been a doozie!  Maybe next time, but don't hold your breath.

Now, about the toad.  Yesterday while Tree Guy and Sons were working on the tree trunk, I was milking goats.  As I came up the path, TG came running.  "Where's your rifle?!"  He explained while we made our way to the house that, while I was in the barn, he'd seen the largest coyote he'd ever seen sitting on the drive just watching the girls in the pen.  He'd scared it down to the front pasture, where it then nonchalantly wandered down into my woods.  Okay, alrightie.  Bess and I were on high alert the rest of the day.  I mowed a couple of yards in the afternoon, always keeping an eye out for the predator.

At bedtime, putting the girls to bed was an ordeal.  They knew something with teeth was afoot.  Nobody wanted to go where they should be and Cindy was more reluctant than the rest.  She resisted coaxing, threats, and abandonment.  I left her out in the pen in the dark.  A long time later, hearing the beastie boys singing, I went out with lighted hat to try again.  In the barn, Toad hopped along right in our (potential) path.  Huge, this boy was.  Best to move him out of the way before I or Cindy (if she would come in) squooshed him flat.  Subterfuge and a rope finally got Cindy into her stall for the night.

Gosh, I'm glad to be home.  I'll leave the after-dark adventures to others.

Well Baby

Bessie Anne had her annual well-baby checkup and vaccinations yesterday.  Every visit to the vet starts by being weighed.  The scale is right there in the waiting room and she finds it embarrassing to have that large digital display announce her dietary sins in public.  Reluctant to get on the stand, she turns and says, "You do realize I've got big bones."  I, myself, have always hated doctor scales.  I cannot decide whether to take a deep breath and float or empty my lungs because air is heavy.  It didn't help when the nice lady announced, "Well, you're certainly heavier than you look."  (How's that for a backhanded compliment?)  Discussing this with her later, I assured Bess that next year I will give her a puppy cut to lessen the load before the examination.  Stephanie, the tech, was socially astute and introduced herself to Bessie before taking her temperature, which Bess hates worse than getting shots.  Dr. Ric has cared for Bessie Anne from the very first, has seen her through three surgeries, and I can say without fear of contradiction that she holds a special place in his heart.  I've never seen him come out into the waiting room to greet any other animal but Bess.  My girl is ten years old now and is developing cataracts, but otherwise she is in good health.  I got an estimate on having her teeth cleaned, about the same cost as a used car.  I fear she'll have to make do with milk bones.  Speaking of milk bones, Dr. Ric keeps a cookie jar full and gave one to Bessie, which she took politely and promptly put down on the floor.  He was disappointed, and I explained that she would like two to go, please.  Just as with treats from the feed store, she will only eat them after we get home, but she does expect two.  Laughing, he handed me another "for the road."  We're good to go for another year.

I've an early appointment down in the valley tomorrow and must leave shortly after daybreak.  Camille is going to come to milk and tend the goats; I'll take care of the chickens.  Given time constraints, I may not get an entry written and I'm asking in advance for indulgence.  (Disregard if I do scribble a few lines.)

A Little Squirrely

My day began and ended with squirrels, with a few nice nuts in between.  Grey squirrels pretty much keep themselves to themselves, but this bold dude was waiting on the bird feeder for breakfast.  He did move up to the fork of the tree when I approached, but then began to scold, "Chuck, Chuck, Chuck!"  (Grey squirrels are under the impression that everyone is named Chuck.)  Being properly chastised, I put down the bird seed and stepped away.

There was a good turnout of Freed Spirit bikers and their ladies for lunch at Bones.  Dave's lady, Sandra, drove up in her car as she had to go to work later.  Surrounded by all those muscles and since they were "in the neighborhood" (give or take 10-15 miles), I asked the boys if they would swing by the house and move the entertainment center downstairs and put the old, humongous TV on a different stand for me.  I'm shameless; how could they refuse the Club Momma?  (I had plotted this in advance and moved a lot of stuff out of the center before I left the house, hoping they'd agree.)  Under Dave's direction, those guys stripped the center and had it out the door, down the hill, and into the shop in no time flat and had the television hooked up again on a spare coffee table (I've got three, doesn't everyone?).  I'm no dummy; I had cold beer waiting.  This was my first opportunity to meet the ladies and they were a grand group.  The house was wall-to-wall leather and Bessie Anne was in seventh heaven, surrounded by men (she's that sort of girl).  Ready to continue their ride, they all formed a line for goodbye hugs and kisses (it still makes me smile) before rumbling down the drive, taking my sincere thanks with them.  They're "a lovely bunch of coconuts."

It had been an eventful day.  Just before putting the kids to bed, Bess and I went walkabout on the deck.  Spit!  What lettuce had survived the prior attack by the ground squirrel had grown up nearly an inch and I'd been able to identify all three varieties.  Don't you know that booger had returned and eaten every single sprout?!  Not one leaf remained.  I don't think it's worth replanting, at least not on the deck.  I don't mind feeding the wildlife, but I prefer to choose what and where.  So much for what I want.

Regardless, it was a good day.

Snippets

"I'm sorry to wake you, Mom, but I really, really, really have to go outside now."  And so it was that I got up with Bessie Anne at 3:30 this morning, why I then slept in way past my usual hour, and why I'm still muzzy.  (Bessie Anne is sleeping peacefully at my feet.  Of course she is.)

Yesterday was really hot and nothing much got done (again).  The Asian lilies are beginning to open up.  They are in pots all along the deck, but, like a slow sunrise, they start at one end and work their way to the other.

A good deal of time was spent online, looking for a television to go with the new receivers.  Having made up my mind to get the one at a local store, I called before making the trip back to town and was discouraged to find that it was not in stock nor in the warehouse.  Arrgh.  I conferred with my electronics consultant, Craig, and got input from his associate, Deb.  Bless their hearts, they went to a store nearby and picked up one we selected.  I could get used to having these personal shoppers, given that there are few who hate shopping more than I.  They have custody of the new equipment and will bring it up next weekend.  No, this was not a ploy of mine just to see them again (but that sure is an added bonus for me!).

Now I'm in a quandary.  Not only do I not like to go shopping, I don't like to move furniture.  I've often said that a person could go blind in my house and never stub their toe as once a piece is put in place, it's there for the duration.  Steve and I drove each other nuts.  I am such a stick-in-the-mud and he would rearrange not just a piece of furniture, but entire rooms in our old house.  The dining room became an office, the dining room moved into the living room, a bedroom became a library, and he moved a fence in the backyard three times.  The new television will not fit in the entertainment center, therefore the center must go.  I must find homes for existing equipment and the center itself.  Arrgh.

The old red hen, as Ginger in "Chicken Run" would say, went "on holiday."  I'm glad she did not linger longer.

I'm meeting Dave and my boys (I am the official Club Momma, after all) from Freed Spirits for lunch today.  It will be a mini-version of Rolling Thunder.

Yawn.  I wonder if there'll be time for a nap before then.  Yawn.  Darn that Bessie Anne.

House Of Blue Lights

Farview glows like an alien spaceship at night.  All electrical appliances these days seem to come with blue lights that stay on even when the object is turned off.  I suppose this shows they are ready for takeoff at a moment's notice.  What with the night lights I recently put in the hallway and several rooms, the computer modem (five! blue lights), and the two new TV receivers, unless the power goes out, I'll never be in the dark again.  I'm grateful that the manufacturers chose blue and not red.  In the old days, a red light on a house indicated ladies of ill repute in residence.  My reputation may be shot as it is, but at least I'm not advertising.

The new receivers came with new remote controls.  Thien did not leave a manual for said remotes.  There are several unidentified bars and buttons that I am afraid to push for fear of destruction (me, the remote, the television).  I asked about four bars in different colors.  "Oh, don't worry about those.  Just don't push."  Now that's scary.  What if they are a signal to the mother ship?

Joel put the finishing touch to the refurbishing done by the Kids.  To paraphrase an insurance slogan, "Like a good neighbor, Joel is there."  He has his own large vineyard to tend, but took the time and gasoline to come over and disk the big south pasture.  All weeds are gone!  "Thank you" just never seems enough.

Yesterday was pretty much a lost cause for getting anything done around here.  Those appointment "windows" leave a person hanging.  Camille stopped by for a minute.  The score changed when the coyotes nabbed Spot, her favorite chicken.

If I ever go missing, check Alpha Centauri.  I might have pushed the blue bar.