It’s what I do

A coworker once asked me about my weekend, which launched me into a conversation monologue about my chickens.   I told her my husband and I had built some security into their run because of hawk problems, and that I had mucked out the chicken palace.  At that last comment she snorted incredulously,

You enjoy doing that?

to which I replied,

“Well, yes I do.”

My chickens and geese depend on me.  I get up, don my “Fashionable attire for feeding chickens and geese on COLD mornings,”  brace myself, walk out the door, and set to work.

The routine is the same, it never varies by much except for how cold it gets.  Today the ice on the chicken’s water is only the thickness of cardboard.  Once last year it was over an inch thick and I had to go out and crack it again midday!  This morning I easily break it with my wellies, and then reaching in with my ungloved hand, I lift out the shards.  My fingers burn from the icy chill.  Quickly I dry them on my wooly robe, and just as quickly reglove them.

Next, I let out Quasimodo and Miss Dixie, check for an egg, and grab their food dispenser to take with me to the barn for refilling.

Quasi is my special needs silky rooster.   He has curled toes, that make him hobble and lurch, and he’s blind in one eye from an infection he picked up as a baby chick.  Miss Dixie is a mixed breed, little white splash hen (Blue Andalusian and Buff Polish) who thinks that Quasimodo is the perfect mate… she can say,

“No, thank you dear.”

and there is nothing he can do about it.

Now, the fun begins!  It’s off to the barn to let out the geese.  As I near the roll up door I hear them becoming animated.   I try to sneak up on them every morning, but their little grunting noises tell me that they’ve once again heard the gate latch.  I approach the door and call out,

“Good morning duck-butts, good morning!”

Which gets them knocking on the metal door with their beaks in response.  Huey stretches his long neck under the door and rushes out, next comes Polly who strolls out, stops, and taking a moment, looks up at me as if to say,

“Good morning to you Missus!”  and  “What took you so long?”

Last is Little Dorrit, who once everyone else is out of the way, begins flapping her wings and honking as she becomes airborne!  This little morning flight gets her four feet up out of the straw and six feet out of the door.  When she lands she takes off running and honking to catch up.  I listen as her little flappy feet slap the frozen mud and I realize I’m smiling.

Last stop, the chicken palace.   I open the gate to the run and hear them all cooing inside.  Someone has gotten into someone else’ space in the door lineup inside the coop.  Squawking and rustling ensues.  I call out…

“Good morning stinkies, com’on out!”

I open the coop doors and they rush, tumbling beak-over-butt-feathers to get out and find breakfast.  Some days, I let them out first and when they realize the food isn’t there yet, they race back to me, and stopping they look up as if to say,

“What’s this trick?  Where’s breakfast?”

I refill their food dispenser, put food into the other chicken’s feeder, check their water and then go in to check for eggs.  This morning I find that there is one, freshly laid, blue-green jewel in the back nest.  Reaching in I pick it up and discover that it is still warm.  Removing my glove from the still frozen hand I take the egg and cradle it there.  It’s heat begins thawing my fingers as I place it into my pocket.  Unwilling to let go, I leave my hand there with the egg until it becomes too cool to work its magic.

Almost done!  Now, returning to the little coop, I hang the newly filled feeder for them, then looking back, I check quickly to be sure I haven’t left any gates open.

Pausing before I go in, I reach back into my pocket and pull out the little egg.   Looking at it I think,

“This is why I do it.”

~*~

My little reward from my girls for the time I take to keep them happy.

~*~

Ahem, if you haven’t clicked on the link to “Fashionable attire for feeding chickens and geese on COLD mornings”  then you’re missing out on a rare and candid view…  😉

~*~

Learning a New Craft: needle turned applique

This week I have begun to teach myself how to do needle turned applique.  If you have never heard of this before here is a nice calming video from Deb at Connecting Threads to help you learn.

Connecting Threads can be found  HERE

Points you may want to consider before you start:

  • Start small
  • Start with something easy… something easy is NOT Maple leaves.
  • Don’t teach yourself on a deadline… like say, a gift for a friend.

If you watch the video, follow Deb’s instructions, and my hints above, then you will probably have a fun time learning this beautiful craft.  😉

If you do try it, then please let me know how you liked it!

HAVE FUN!

Once Upon a Time in the West: an encounter with tribulous terrestris

Today when browsing my email I read a post from a friend at bdale56, which led me to follow a link to littlesundog  .   I was curious about the blog’s name, as Little Sun Dog is what we sometimes call Tucker.   Therein, she had posted about ‘Damnable Weeds,’ and discussed the Goatshead bur.   That caused me to recall a time from my early childhood…

English: Tribulus terrestris (flower). Locatio...

Image via Wikipedia

The Goat’s Head Bur ~  looks tame, flower is cute, BUT… Read on friends.

Oh, how I remember those goat’s head burs!  My first, and worst, memory was from when I was a child of four.  I ran out into the field near our new house to catch a kitten and got stuck in the biggest sticker patch ever.  It had to be ten feet in any direction and I was right smack in the middle of it before I even registered the pain of my predicament.   With each step the bottoms of my little feet would become  covered in those evil stickers.  It was, as you might imagine, like walking on thumbtacks.  I lifted a foot, pulled them out, took a step and picked up more of the evil seed heads.

Tribulus terrestris L. - puncturevine thorns

Image via Wikipedia

Evil seed heads

Screaming and wailing piteously had  alerted a young teen passing by the field.  He yelled over to me and asked, “Do you need some help?”

To which I yelled back, “Nooooo!” 

Seriously.  My parents had raised me to never-ever talk to strangers, and he was a stranger.

Ignoring my protest, he crossed the field and came to my rescue.   Scooping  me up in his arms, he carried me out of the field, then sitting down, he carefully pulled each and every sticker out of my little feet.  My little face was hot, red, and covered in tears by the time he had finished.  I remember thanking him as he got up to continue his walk on down the road.  You know, I never saw him again, but he was at the top of my Hero list for a very long time!

~*~

Now you and I know that pulling weeds is not a chore that is enjoyed by anyone, especially a child,   and as I learned young to hate the weed, well eradication was never a chore!   In fact, I rather took joy in seeking them out and pulling them up as soon as I spotted them, anywhere, any time.

~*~

I am so glad that the evil Goat’s Head weed does not grow here.

Uh-oh.

Needing a haircut the Lady of the Farmlet thought,

“I cut Bob’s hair for him with the clippers… I’ll just put the biggest comb on and do it myself!”  It only took one swipe of the clippers to realize my mistake, but it was already too late.

I look in the mirror and try to imagine myself as one of those artsy looking old fems in dangly earrings and folksy clothing.  Nope, the vision bubble pops and it is still me with awful hair staring back.  Is it possible to be too frugal?  Yes.  It truly is.

I told Bob I won’t be going out in public.  His response?

“You can wear a hat.”

Note to self: 

NEXT TIME GO TO THE NEAREST CLIP JOINT AND PAY $10.00.  IT COULDN’T POSSIBLY LOOK ANY WORSE.

!!!  😐  !!!

UPDATE

So many of you wanted pictures… My sister called almost as soon as I hit the publish button!!!  So I went out looking for a picture of an artsy looking ‘old lady’ with dangly earrings, whose hair looked roughly like mine, and I found her!

So, wadda’ya think?  Should I dye my hair orange and get a tattoo?

The very talented Fiber Artist ~ Rice (rhymes with Lisa) Freeman-Zachary

Click on the photo to see all her fabulous books on Amazon, or go here to her website:  http://voodoonotes.blogspot.com/