My Heart Goes

"Do you hear them?!  Do you see them?!"  It was just too exciting not to share.  Calling Judy,  I told her to go out on her deck right away.  It was the start of the spring migration of the Canadian honkers on their way home, and it's a phenomenal experience.  Just as the vultures fly overhead when they leave in September, I'm lucky enough to be in the flight path of the geese.  Their cacophony fills the air.  They came by thousands in waves over the hills to the south, heading directly north, and it went on for several hours.  Every year I hear the old Frankie Laine "Wild Goose Song," with the lyrics, "My heart goes where the wild goose goes...." 

Clicking on the photos will enlarge them to get a better idea of the numbers in just the one vee.  Judy had never seen the migration before, and I could hear the awe in her voice.  I really don't want to go with the birds, but I wish them well on their travels.

I'd much rather do spring cleaning outside than in, and yesterday I raked a mountain of leaves off just one side of the front walkway.  (And I'm feeling it today.)  Pushing the pile down the hill to the north slope, I ended up cleaning some dead weeds from under the deck, where years ago I'd planted violets, and found they'd started blooming.  Even just one of these sweet-scented flowers will fill a room with perfume.  I'd be hard pressed to choose a favorite flower, but violets are certainly high on the list.

Tessie came home late in the afternoon and, as expected, had to run the gauntlet.  Even mild-mannered Poppy got into the melee, bashing poor Tess and getting in her licks when she could shoulder past the other girls.  Tess must be smarter than the average goat, as she refused to fight back and the herd got bored quickly and peace reigned again.  After a month away at camp, she still remembered the nighttime drill and went right into the stall with Nineteen.  Maybe he won't whine this morning...maybe.

Going to put the Silkies to bed, Satomi was sitting out in their yard and wouldn't budge.  Good nanny that she is, she was protecting one of the adventuresome white chicks who'd jumped the barrier and couldn't get back into the coop.  Catching that chick was like chasing a pinball in action.  It didn't help that Bessie Anne was on the outside of the pen, racing around and frantic to help herd the baby.  This morning I'll grab a shovel and fill in the gaps that allowed that little twerp to hide under the chicken house.  We were all relieved when I tucked the chick back in the coop under a hen.  I thought I'd taken enough precautions.  Obviously not.