It's Spring...and I have Nothing to Say

I think it's finally safe to say spring is here.

I have never before been so ready for winter to go away. Yes, around February I will hit a phase where I'm impatient for the weather to turn, but this winter I about went stir-crazy. Usually I force myself to tough it up and remind myself how much we need the cold and snow, but not this year.

And now, at long last, the snow is turning to rain and I can abandon my winter coat. Woot!

In honor of the warmer weather, I've been forcing myself to get out more and walk my dog. (Her energy level from being cooped up all winter is half of what drives me up the wall.) I had intended to get myself a membership at the gym for my birthday. I even bought myself some neon-colored running shoes and promised myself that if I could keep it up for a month I could get some real running pants. (Yes, I have a self-bribing system I enforce to make myself perform. You clearly have never seen me in a gym.) I walked in, all ready to slap down my debit card. I took one look at the line of treadmills and shuddered. Then I saw the actual price for the membership and promptly left.

I'm not that dedicated.

So springtime! Of course, it would be easier to believe if all those bulbs I planted last autumn would sprout. Not a single crocus, no sign of my hyacinths and tulips.... Not one green tendril.

We did get more chickens. It's already been established that we are crazy, but just so no one forgets. And they are new breeds from the kind we have. I've officially lost count.

Soon most of the roosters will be gone, except for Rocky (our nicest Buff) and Gerard the Brahma because he's too funny to kill. Mom is hoping to hatch some chicks from our flock, but we kind of want to separate the chosen hens and Rocky to avoid any spawn from Gerard. Funny as he is, he has enough quirks that we don't want to see what sort of creature would result from crossing him and a hen. (If it happens, we're naming the thing Napoleon.)

The ducks have been loving the mud puddles. Poor Alfac injured his leg on the ice in the winter and it healed wrong at the ankle, so he has a permanent limp. Our driveway is a mess now due to the flooding, and I put my rain boots to good use.

Clearly I'm rambling. It has taken an hour for me to get this far. I'm working on a more "deep" post, but it's not finished. However, I knew I kind of needed to say something.

After the murderous winter season we endured, all I want is to see something green and living. My aloe plant just isn't cutting it. I have plans for a flower garden on one side of our yard. Hopefully we'll also get in a vegetable garden like we didn't last year.

We had a spring cleaning session among us girls a couple weeks ago, and I discovered two things: 1) the color of my floor, and 2) the fact that I apparently do not clean my room during the winter. Oops.

Ok, I'm done blathering. With any luck, I'll be back later this week with something more worthwhile, now that I have gotten spring out of my system.

Breaking the Silence

So that was an unintentionally long absence...of a month.

Right.

Not that I'm not busy and have nothing to say. On the contrary, I have plenty to say. But I got stuck on a Peru-related post and writer's block is an obstacle with which I still struggle. I plan to return to the Peru topic  after a while, but I'm going to let it rest for now because my life remains ever eventful and I don't want to miss that.

I think the hardest part of blogging is picking it back up after not writing for a while. Followed closely by figuring out what to write.

I don't want to do a recap. Not a full one, at least. I don't want to jam this post chock-full of ramblings.

High on the list of "important things happening in Amber's life" is that I got a new job! It came in a round-about way after I'd given up on a different job opportunity I'd been pursuing. The company is owned by friends of ours, and Wesley worked for them a couple summers ago. Our family histories met years ago when Mom was worked at a pizzeria owned by the wife. (Ah, such found memories....)

A very basic way to describe my job would be along the lines of "office administration", though it entails more than it sounds (and I now know what it feels like when someone says their head is "swimming"...). It's a (mostly) desk job, though my new dwelling with not be a cubicle. Actually, at the moment my area of operations is right next to a big window.

Mom worked this same position in a part-time capacity a while ago, so she's able to help me (or sympathize, mostly) as I adjust. I don't officially start until the week of the 22nd, because I have to work through my last two weeks at the smoothie shop. However, I've already run a few "practice rounds", so I have a very basic understanding of what I will be doing. Very basic.

Let's see....

We got more hens a while back. Two Ameracaunas (or Easter Eggers, as I believe they are in truth), some true Rhode Island Reds (decidedly darker and more red than our original batch), and some more White Leghorns. It took them a few days to get adjusted to the rigamarole of life among the Royce flock, as well as a couple nights hiding under the coop or in the trees, but they're pretty well integrated now. Soon we will bid adieu to most of our roosters, and for most of them we couldn't be happier to see them go. Presley, one of our Polish roosters, is maniacal and lives solely to torment every living creature he comes in contact with. Some of the Buffs (who all turned out to be roosters) are almost equally evil, and are the epitome of everything I despise in chickens. We have one guy who's decent and for the most part ignores us, which I guess is the best we can hope for.

Oh. And the ducks are both drakes, unfortunately. They are dubbed Aflac and Waddles, and they remain ridiculously endearing.

The only other thing I can think of right now is that Autumn is nearly upon us. Last week we had one day in the high 90's with lots of humidity, and a few days later we woke up to temperatures just above freezing. The trees are on the brink of turning. We're all thinking a road trip is in order.

I pulled out my collect of scarves and fingerless gloves and am eager to return them to use. Spring is still my favorite season to experience, but Autumn is my favorite for the wardrobe.

Okay. I have nothing of use to say, so I'll cut this short. Now that my reintroduction is over, I can move on to more important things. Good grief.

More on the Poultry (naming, the coop, and the neighbors)

I started writing this post a couple weeks ago but got distracted. I figured since I need to keep at the blogging and since I haven't mentioned much about our poultry (yes, I'm still stuck on that) I'll share.
Chickens are turning out to be a great way for me to use names I've always liked but would never attach to a cat or dog, much less a child. A person can name their chickens anything they jolly well please because 1) they don't have to worry about the chicken learning to answer to a name, 2) few people are really going to care what the chicken is named and even less how to spell it, and 3) practically anything goes, because it's a chicken. Name the members of your flock Nugget, Fried, Grilled, Rotisserie, and Crispy; name your soon-to-be-dead roosters after your ex-boyfriends; give them all names from characters in your favorite book or movie or TV show (and now I want a chicken called "The Doctor"...). It all works.

All of our unique chickens (meaning all the ones we can tell apart from the rest, which is about half) have names: Lobelia, Rex, Betsy, Ginger, Euroclydon "Rocky" II, and Crooked Beak are just a few. It makes it easier to care for them, I think, because there's a little fun in doing roll call and screaming names when they bite you instead of, "You blasted chicken! I'm going to have your legs for BBQ'ed drumsticks!" (though that's fun, too).

As I mentioned above, one of our chickens is called Crooked Beak. She's one of the four Americaunas, all of whom we can manage to tell apart. Crooked Beak's name is self-explanatory: her beak is askew. She has to get food down to the back of her beak to grind it up. Despite this deformity, she's actually very sweet. Probably the nicest of the Americaunas. However, when all of the other favorite and prized chickens were getting named, Crooked Beak was excluded from being dubbed something funny or outlandish or cute.

Mom hates the name and wants us to change it, but no one can think of anything better. I tried pirate names (because they have names like Black Beard) and we've considered trying to find Native American names (because of descriptive names like Sitting Bull) but nothing works. Then I found it: Prunaprismia.

Yeah. Caspian's aunt in Prince Caspian. 

I haven't even suggested it to the family (I know Heather would flat out refuse, though Mom seemed to think it was funny when I pointed it out for a prospective future poultry monicker). They wouldn't even let me name my own dog, and I'm surprised Lobelia is still thusly entitled. But it's worth a try, and it's nicer than Crooked Beak (as if we're all looking to be loving and humane to our chickens). We shall see.
In other news, the coop and run is finally coming together. Dad and Mom have both been busy and away from home a lot, so it's been getting done in stages. We got the fence up a couple days ago. Now the ducks spend their days outside and nights inside in the old chicken house, and the chickens are supposed to stay in the coop or fenced area at all times. (I'm still marveling at how difficult it is to corner a chicken. And none of the roosters like me, so it's even harder because they bite me.) However, some of the chickens (mostly the Americaunas, those pesky things) are natural escape artists. The surest way to lure them back is with food, and it usually works; and they also come back every night.
But talking about the ducks, they've kind of adopted our neighbors' flock, especially the two little mallards. For a while the mallards were coming over every day, usually early in the morning, and yelling for our ducks to be let out so they could socialize. I think they were also hoping to beg for some food. Now the ducks all take turns having play dates at each other's homes. Again, they do come home at night.
Oh, yeah. Probably a month ago now, Dad found an egg by the "duck pond". At first we though it was a chicken egg, but Mom declared it too large for a young hen to have laid. So apparently it's a duck egg. This is good because it means we don't have two drakes and also because we have a duck hen to call Jemima, per Heather's desire. (If it turns out both are hens, I want to name the other Daisy, just to be equally unoriginal and cute.)
That's about all I have to say right now. Hopefully I'll exhaust the chicken topic soon and move on to bigger things. We shall see.

Gardening with the Chickens

I think it's safe to say my opinion of chickens has changed rather drastically. I won't say I love them. I do, however, take great pleasure in observing them.

Today was another beautiful day. After hours of helping Mom on the computer, I was itching to get outside. I grabbed my bow and went to practice. Eventually, Allenna joined me. I determined that I really need to work on my aim. (Don't worry. Nothing broke.) Dad tightened my bowstring for me yesterday. I think it actually helped a little. Not with the aiming, mind you; just with general drawing.

After a while (and mostly because my arms were tired) I handed the bow to Allenna and went in search of my gardening supplies. I've had some plants waiting for a few days to get in the ground, and I figured now was as good a time as any to take care of them. The chickens and ducks have been hanging out in the little corner where the some of the flowerbeds are. They steered clear of me for the most part, at least when I made like I was going to touch them. If I ignored them, they played at being bolder and would peck at my feet.

I started by turning up the dirt in the flowerbeds while contemplating a good place for my primroses. As I did, I uncovered some insects. I grabbed the nearest chicken and plopped him in the dirt. He didn't realize I was trying to help him, and scuttled off. A minute later, however, another one wandered over and realized what treasures I was uncovering.

Chickens are little like seagulls in this way: if one finds something interesting, you can bet the rest will quickly pick up on it and come running to get their share. Soon four or five chickens were pecking around in the dirt.

Then I found a worm.

As far as I know, our chickens have yet to encounter a worm. Eagerly I scooped it up and called the chickens. Most regarded me suspiciously and walked away. One of the older Buffs, however, saw I was offering something and hurried over. She pecked inquiringly at the worm, decided it was promising, and took it. Another chicken soon noticed the first beating the worm to a pulp in the dirt and came over to investigate. The first grabbed her meal and started running.

Apparently a running chicken is a signal to all the others that there are good things around. In under a minute, it was like watching tackle football.

I wish I could have taken a video, but my phone was acting up. I did get a picture, which I will try to post.

I found some more worms when planting my peony. Soon I had the chickens trained to come running when I tossed something to them. 'Twas delightful.

Meanwhile, the ducks held themselves aloof of the reveleries and lashed out at any chicken who scrambled too close. If the chickens are small minded, the ducks are even more so, and pretty much intolerant of any creature but each other. But now both of them will accept apples from me. They still have serious separation anxiety. The best way to get them back into the garage is to pick up one. The other will follow as quickly as he can (they're very clumsy on their big feet), both of them screaming all the way.

One day I may base two characters off those ducks and their inseparability. For the moment, I'll amuse myself with the backyard antics of them and the chickens while I garden.

Full Day

Today has been a long, though wonderful, day.

It kind of started around 4:30 this morning when I woke to Sasha licking my elbow. Still not sure what that was about. I actually woke up around 7:30 and was downstairs in time to say good-bye to Dad. Then came a few quiet hours shuffling around the house before Mom, Wes, and I headed out to run errands. We dropped my car off to get some work done, then went to a couple stores, a rummage sale, and a restore before picking up my car. We came home with a stove, a mattress for Wes, a kiddie pool (for the ducks), and some books and clothes for me (old hardback copies of Charlotte's Webb and Black Beauty). After unloading, Mom and Wes went back out and picked up a new bed for him from some friends.

The chicks and ducks were put outside for the day. They didn't wander very much, but they really enjoyed it once they got used to it. I found that the best way to get an accurate head count is to count by breed: "One Bantum, one Brahma, two Leghorns, four Americaunas, etc."

Then Wes got my bow (which I got a couple Christmases ago) and set up a make-shift target along the house. Turns out I can't handle a bow with a draw weight of 40 pounds. But I didn't break anything and didn't hurt myself = success. I was given instructions to practice drawing, starting at 10 reps a day, and build up my muscles (and I actually do have muscles now that I've graduated from home-bound homeschooler to working single).

It being the first truly nice day in the last couple of weeks, I decided I should take Sasha for a walk. I haven't been to the park yet, though Mom and the girls have gone a number of times. Heather and Hershey came along with us.

I was wearing a work-out tank and yoga pants. And was warm.

We didn't walk long. Heather suggested a jog, but that lasted no time at all before I started cramping up. And Sasha has two speeds: waddle or galumph. But it was fun. And, for the first time this year, I turned on the air conditioning in my car. (I'm so glad I have a car with AC!)

Home to cleaning, reorganizing, and playing with the fowl. And I managed to assemble a little shelf for our DVD's almost all by myself. I let Mom handle the nailing at the end. But yay me!

Then a friend stopped by so she, Heather, and I could run through a practice for a rather impromptu special for tomorrow. We've sung the song before, though it was a while ago. We had a recording of the music from the pianist at church, and we tried practicing with it playing on Dad's computer. However, the speakers weren't nearly loud enough, so we ended up moving to the friend's car to practice. Whatever works, right?

Around the same time, Allenna returned home from a couple days with some friends, bringing yard sale loot with her.

More cleaning, alphabetizing DVD's (how long with that last?), supper, and reorganizing. The fowl are now in the garage. And boy was it fun rounding them up! No wonder chicken chasing* is a game in some rodeos! The Polish especially, though some of the smallest, are crazy quick. And turns out possibly 5 of our 6 Buffs from the second group of Buffs are roosters. Yay.

I was kind of hoping to do nothing today (the last few days have been kind of stressful, for some reason) but it turns out this sort of activity was just what I needed. Maybe it was all the fresh air and going barefoot? All in all, a beautiful, enjoyable day.

Mom's been working in the dining room for the last week (or few weeks) painting, including the table. Now things are finally back to some order, and it's looking amazing. I love having a separate, good-sized dining room!

Well, I think Dad got a movie, so I'm signing off.

 

*Look! The chicken with the blue lei in that picture is a Polish!

Snack Time

I feel like I'm still recovering from yesterday. It got cold again today, and the wind returned. The crest point (or whatever it's called) for the river, which is supposed to happen tomorrow, is now supposed to be lower than the record by a good two feet. We didn't get as much rain as they predicted, I guess; at least not as constantly as it was looking. We did get some snow today. Well, a freezing mixture.

I worked a couple hours this morning/afternoon, and then Mom and I were out and about. And round-about, due to closed roads. We were hunting for a place to buy bulk chick feed.

And yes. I'm going to talk about the chicks again.

Man, I need to take some pictures! Presley, one of the Polish, has a mop head right now. The oldest keep perching on everything possible. Mom built them a better coop. Now they're on the floor, in the open. They have staring contests with Sasha when she comes through headed for the back door. They're mostly friendly, crowding around when someone talks to them. ('Cept for Glinda and Galadriel. Stuck up snobs, those two.)

The ducks are another story. They're nervous and loud and easily agitated. They only respond in a relatively calm manner to Heather, and I think it's more of grudging acceptance. Unless by some strange quirk of nature they prefer the loud mimic-squawking and purposefully off-key singing.

I've been trying to coax them out of their constant state of nerves, but most days I don't have the patience for it. I've already tried giving them chopped apples once, Heather having read they like chopped fruits and veggies, but they cowered in a corner. Today I tried again.

I spent a little time petting them. They shivered like chihuahuas, but they didn't run circles in blind panic. Then I got some apples.

Neither responded to me. You'd think I was some wicked abuser back to torment them. I held the apples as close as I could manage, but they kept pulling their heads back like it was poison. And then one of them got a whiff of the treat.
The next thing I know, a little duck bill and pecking at my hand, and then the duckling's whole head is vibrating as it - gummed? - the snack into mush and swallowed. And it repeated the action over and over. It still wouldn't pull its body out of the corner. If I held my hand just out of reach, it wouldn't move. And the second duckling was still refusing to accept my offering.
Meanwhile I'm about to collapse in a fit of giggles because the way the duckling was eating was so cute and funny. I finally managed to coax the second to get a bite, but he wasn't as enthusiastic.
Now I know why ducks are often portrayed as, well, feather-brained.
Well, the chicks are all tucking in for bedtime and the brownies are cooling, so I'm off.

April Fool!

I've never been one for April Fool pranks. Or any other pranks or practical jokes, for that matter. I always feel kind of guilty for making other people freak out and then laughing at them, and I can't say I really enjoy being laughed at most of the time. I think the worst prank I ever did was refold an empty gum wrapper, stick it in the pack, and offer it to someone. (I know. Homeschoolers. I can't tell you how much pleasure my 7-year-old self derived from that "trick".)

Today I saw people on facebook posting about April Fools Day pranks, but wasn't really worried to be the recipient of any. I spent my day in innocent bliss: washing dishes, playing with the chickens (oh, we got four more....), giving Sasha a shower, and pining for sunshine.

Around 4:00, I remembered that I'd been meaning to check my library account because I had some books coming due. I got on and saw that I had quite a few actually overdue. Snap. Since I had to be to work in an hour, I figured I'd better get moving so I could drop the books off at the library.

As I was cramming things into my purse (I really need a better catch-all purse), my phone rang. Work. Now what?

When I answered, one of my co-oworkers asked if I was almost there. Not understanding at first, I asked her to repeat the question.

"Um, no. I'm not in until 5:00."

"No. You're scheduled for 4:00."

Cue panic attack. Psychological pranks are possibly my least favorite. So I'm freaking out, Mom is freaking out, and I somehow end up on the floor. Then my co-worker starts laughing, and I hear more laughter in the background. (Yes, she had it on speaker.) Through the laughter, she choked out, "April Fools!" I proceeded to huff about what a brat she was. And then I chuckled and hung up. Right.

I left soon after, and my run to the library didn't take as long as I thought, so I ended up getting to work early anyway. And for the rest of the night, we were all on edge. I really hate this "holiday".

In other news, we got four more chicks a couple days ago. Mom, Heather, and I set out for an hour-long drive to a hatchery with the intention of getting the much-desired Silkies. Unfortunately, there'd been some miscommunication somewhere along the line; the Silkies were all gone. Turns out they're in high demand this year. A little disappointment on Heather's part, and then we got three Polish chickens and a Brahma. They could be either hens or roosters, but they already have names. The Brahma, Heather's concilatory/Easter gift, is named Ginger. And she (though it may be a "he") knows she's exotic. And she has some attitude. On the other hand, the Polish chickens are pretty quiet and easy-going, so they get picked on (quite literally) by the others. They are Elvis, Presley, and Aida or Aidan. (Yes, Elvis and Presley. I tried to convince Mom that if the one she dubbed "Elvis" turned out to be a hen, she could call it "Presley" because it sounds more like a unisex name, but the next day one of the others was Presley.)

We're getting quite the collection. 23 chickens and 2 ducks. The oldest ones are starting to hit the "dinosaur stage", where they lose their baby fluff and start getting their adult feathers. When we went to get the last four chickens, we saw some ducks in this stage, and they were, quite frankly, ugly. As Mom put it, they looked rather like they had mange: fluff half-gone and feathers poking out all over the place.

I'm starting to think it was a bad idea naming the chickens; at least the Buffs. They're becoming kind of hard to distinguish from one another. Lobelia is still the lightest of the older set. I just keep an eye on her so I know which one she is. It helps that she's the most daring. She likes sitting on people's hands and arms. Mostly, she's trying to escape (and she can get some good air when she flaps her wings) but in that regard she's nicer than the rest.

Anyone getting bored yet? I know it's short, but I think I'll end here for the day. I'm still working on my Easter post. Maybe tomorrow....

Duck, Duck.... (plus: A Cute Moment at Work)

Add ducks to the list of critters currently in our care. We're turning into a farm. All we need now is a cow or two, maybe a pony.... Just no pigs.

The ducks were Heather's idea. She and Mom went to get more chicks yesterday and came home with 10 assorted chicks and 2 Pekin ducklings.

And I thought the chicks were loud. We're finally getting the ducklings used to our hands, but only because we continued draping them in the box and wiggling our fingers and talking to the ducklings all day yesterday. Whenever we'd pick up one, it and the one left behind would both scream, so it was doubly loud.

Of all people, Wes suggested a name for one of the ducklings: Aflac. We're all in agreement. Heather wants to name the other Jemima, but we don't know if they're male or female.

We got 6 more Buffs (and Mom thinks most of our first ones were Buffs as well), 2 White Leghorns, and four Americaunas, the latter of which are beautiful as chicks but apparently turn out pretty ordinary/kind of ugly as adults. The new Buffs (which all look pretty much the same) are a straight run. If they're roosters, they won't be lasting long, so I'm having to refrain from throwing out more names.

However, one of the Americaunas has black around her eyes coming back to her cheeks. Mom said it looks like eyeliner, so she is Sabrina. I had said the chick with the red stripes from the first half-dozen was named by Allenna, but it was actually the other Banty. She is Arexi. Mom thinks the striped one might be our only non-Buff from that bunch. I think it could be a Rhode Island Red, and suggested Cheryl (Miss Congeniality, anyone?).

Rocky is gone as of this morning. Even among the new ones he was the runt, and with so many running around he had it rough. Although yesterday he laid down for one of his frequent naps (I was beginning to think he was narcoleptic) and one of the Whites cuddled up with her head on his back. 'Twas adorable. (Oh. And I want to name the Whites Galadriel and Glinda. Even though we can't tell them apart.)

But enough about baby fowl. I know I said I wasn't going to write about work, but something happened yesterday that I wanted to share.

I was scrubbing counters when a little boy, maybe 6 or 7, walked in. I waited a second to see if a parent was following, but he was on his own, so I went up to the register with a grin. He had a $20 wadded up in his fist and a handwritten list from his mom. He quietly gave me his order.

Then he asked if it was "Happy Tuesday". My co-worker, who'd wandered up with me, suggested he might mean "Text Tuesday". The poor kid wasn't sure and looked uncomfortable. My co-worker asked if his mom had a text. He didn't know. I wasn't sure what to say when another customer, who was sitting down eating, said, "Here," and slid his phone across the table to offer his own text message.

"Looks like someone's got your back," my co-worker told the boy with a smile.

I told the boy his total, forgetting to say "dollars" and "cents" after the numbers. He looked all confused and nervous, repeated the total questioningly with "dollars" and "cents", and then mumbled that he didn't have 80 cents. My co-worker stepped up, pointing out that he had a $20, which meant he'd get change back.

Once the transaction was complete, I thanked her profusely. I'd been at a loss, feeling kind of stupid because I wasn't sure how to go about the whole thing, but it was cute. When I brought the bag with the smoothies out to the boy, I cautioned him that it was kind of heavy and offered to carry it out to his car, but he told me he could do it, and off he went.

In other news, the weather still doesn't really feel like spring. At least, not all the time. Yesterday we had hail mixed with freezing rain. Today we have sunshine. I know, this way we don't get lots of mud while everything melts all at once, but I'm so ready for spring.

On Sunday, my old Sunday School teacher asked Dad how we liked living in the country. He said he and Mom are enjoying it and he grew up in the country working on farms, kind of mumbled through how my siblings feel, then looked at me and said, "And this one loves it." I get a garden plot bigger than our old backyard, and that's only on one side of the house. What's not to like?