Good and Not So Much

Bessie Anne and I declared yesterday a day of rest.  I don't think I could have pulled a weed if my life depended on it.  Not planning to go outside, I threw both pair of bibbies in the wash, put on a comfy pair of sweats, and we vegged out all day.  Going out to fill the hummers' feeders (again), I looked over the deck railing and was amazed to see this blooming tulip where I had never planted a tulip.  Now, how the heck did that bulb get there?  And how did it survive the underground dwellers that ate every other tulip bulb I've planted in the dirt?  Another of life's mysteries. 

Again checking the feeders in the afternoon, this single spike-horn buck was down by the woods, scratching an itch on dead branches.  His antlers are in thick velvet and growing.  Evidently tulips are too froo-froo for his manly tastes, as he walked right past it. 

Perfectly fine and active the day before, Pearl was very sick yesterday.  When she didn't come up from downstairs in the morning, I went to check on her.  It wasn't a stomach upset, but she barely moved all day, not coming up once.  I took water to her, but otherwise tried not to disturb her.  She seemed to need the dim light and quiet, cool room.  As with Nineteen, I am amazed by the empathy shown by animals.  Frank seemed to know how worried I was and spent most of the day and evening in my lap or very close by.  I was reluctant to go downstairs this morning, afraid of what I might find, but Pearl was awake and actually sitting up.  I brought her upstairs to coax her to eat a little.  She's weak, but did manage to have a bit of breakfast.  That's a good sign.  She found her favorite chair and is napping again now.

Lucky may have been more traumatized than I thought.  None of the girls had gone free ranging yesterday, but at dusk I counted only two of the Rhodies.  I found her in the darkest corner of the hen house, very quiet and not interested in the nighttime treats.  I'm hoping that a day of rest will help her recover, too.