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!

Kites and Alley Cats

Yeah, I know: that lasted really long. I don't have much of an excuse for missing Wednesday. In truth, I had some time between work and church, and then after church, but I lacked both motivation and inspiration. Yesterday, however, I was out of the house by 10:30 after rushing around to get ready, and I didn't get home until 10:30 PM. And I did have something to blog about from yesterday.

I regularly babysit these two adorable, hysterical kids. Yesterday I was at their house. They begged to play outside, now that their backyard is (mostly) no longer flooded. It had been kind of windy, so I suggested we try to fly some kites.

At first neither was interested, but when I almost got my kite aloft, they both rushed to join in. There's a field behind their house for an elementary school, and myself and the kids spent a good hour running around trying to get those kites in the air. Yes, I even used my phone to google how on earth to get them flying.

It didn't work. It almost did a number of times, but always ended with the kite nose-diving and sticking in the mud. But we still had fun, despite the chilly breeze. The little girl spent most of the time running around, a long line of string and then the kite trailing behind her. The boy and I tried to be a little more...methodical? about it, but our method worked about as well as his sister's. Still, it was fun. And there was hot chocolate afterward.

And I have another life snapshot from today.

I'd set an alarm on my phone to be up in good time this morning, because Mom had some appointments to run and then she would be dropping me off at work. Of course, my phone malfunctioned again and the alarm didn't go off. 10 minutes later, I got a text from Mom asking if I was up. I started to reply when she called me. My phone malfunctioned again and wouldn't let me answer, so I trudged downstairs.

Mom was rushing around gathering stuff, breathlessly telling me how she had a photo session at the hospital and we needed to drive to Dad's work to get his car for her so I had mine to get to work. I ran Sasha through the morning routine, hunted down props, and we were off.

We drove by a bunch of yard sales on the way (annual thing). Man, how I was itching to stop by after dropping off Mom! But I'm forcing myself to stick to a budget now, and yard sales are not a good place to test my resolve.

We made it in less than good time at the store. Dad met us out front with the keys, Mom grabbed her things, and we were off again. However, I saw something funny on the way out of the parking lot.

There's a whole family or group or pride or whatever of cats that live around the plaza where Dad's work is located. I suppose you could call them alley cats. They are often wandering around the morning, before things get busy for the day. They're very wary of humans and usually don't appreciate any attention, though there are people who like to feed them.

I'd seen some cats running around when we pulled up, but just then noticed these guys. Two were louging in the sunshine on the sidewalk under the overhang between shops (preposition, anyone?), and one was perched regally on a wooden bench. The one on the bench was a big fluffy black-ish cat, and had such an air about it that I had to laugh. I tried to snap a picture with my phone, but the cats noticed my attention and promptly sauntered off.

I knew I needed to blog about that before the day got away with me and I didn't feel like blogging. It isn't often I find my inspiration this early in the day. Goes to show I need to get back to my old habit of waking up a little earlier.

Yes, I do intend to keep trying this post a day deal. It probably won't always work, as yesterday is evidence to, but I want to try anyway. It's strange scrolling through my blog and seeing how short the posts are. Then I realize that's because I'm not recapping events from a whole week or more.

Snail Mailing It

Here I am again, almost 11 PM.

Today was another of "those" days. For a while it was looking like it was on a track to be a truly rotten day, though things eventually evened out. It's getting chilly again. Drizzly all day, and we're supposed to be in for more snow later in the week. (When I mentioned that to the driver and other passenger on the bus this morning, they both gave me glares and teasingly suggested I start walking.) Ah, spring.

The highlight of my day was when I came home to a letter. A real letter. I can't remember the last time I got one of those outside of birthday cards. This one was from a friend all the way on the West Coast, in response to a birthday card I sent her a couple weeks ago. That was the first time I bought a stamp for myself, that I can recall. Sad, isn't it? It's been a long time since I've had to mail anything.

I was wandering around the kitchen munching on no-bakes and contemplating a pile of dirty pots when Mom, who'd been painting the dining room, said, "Oh, I forgot. This came for you," and tossed the pink envelope on the ironing board, which was standing in the kitchen. (A piece is broken so the ironing board won't fold up. Hence, it gets shuffled around from room to room depending on space.)

I guessed immediately what the envelope contained, but I still got a smile out of it.

There's something wonderful about sending and receiving handwritten letters.

Maybe if I did it more often I'd be forced to have better penmanship? As it was I labored over those few lines to my old friend. Why is it that proper penmanship can't just come by force of will?

After I mailed that birthday card, I pondered the idea of getting back into sending "handwritten sentiments" by snail mail. I know receiving them certainly cheers me up. Getting a text or an e-mail just can't compare. And now I know how much stamps cost. (I felt funny using my debit card to purchase one stamp, but I didn't know when I'd ever need more.)

I think I'm going to have to cut this one short. Again. The chicks are trying to sleep and I'm clacking away. Also, my dog is making her sad whining sounds in the kitchen. Sometimes I swear she sounds like a baby elephant when she gets to moaning dejectedly.

A Ramble about the Weather and Books, Mostly

It's days like today that make me resent the resposibilities of adulthood.

It was a beautiful day. Temperatures hit the high 60's. Sunshine, a nice breeze...and I was stuck inside most of the day.

Last year, I would have been outside, breathing in the fresh air and plotting my garden. (Okay, so I might have spent the day curled up in the sunlight with a book.) It's a little maddening to know what a nice day it is but not to be able to enjoy it as I please. Ah, well. I drove with the windows down and didn't put on a coat until just now when I took Sasha out.

Oh, and that thing about blogging late at night? Yup, still doing it. It's hard when I'm gone most of the day. I rarely find decent blogging material in the morning.

So the flood waters have receeded and the temperatures are rising. We still don't have any leaves in the trees, and there's still a chance of light snow one or two nights this week. I'm ready for the cleaner part of spring to get here. I've had enough of mud and gray days and chilly nights. I'm sure I won't be saying that in July, but I'm saying it now.

We have other things to look forward to around here than just warmer weather. Our missions revival at church is coming up. Actually, our youth pastor has been making an effort to get everyone's mind on that track over the last couple of days. That's what Bible study was about tonight.

Missions Revival is always one of the highlight weeks of the church calendar. I'm excited for this year, because I actually have a job and an opportunity to give a little more, or at least in a different way, than in past years. It's a week full of challenges and encouragement and a healthy dose of reality. I'm really looking forward to it.

Stink. If you couldn't tell, I don't really have anything to blog about tonight. I need to work on that part about taking the little things in life and writing about them.

Um...I'm reading Big Red right now. Dad gave it to me years ago to read and I remembered really enjoying it. Then I foudn it at the library and decided to revisit it. I'm glad I did. It's a very simple book, but still solid and good. And smaller than I remember. And I don't usually enjoy reading severely accented dialogue, but it doesn't really bug me in this book.

One of my sister's guy friends is a huge dog person. I found him tonight at Bible study (he comes with his sister to the singles' study after teens') when he was playing with our youth pastor's dog and told him he needed to read this book. He gave me a skeptical look and asked, "Does it end like Where the Red Fern Grows?" I quickly assured him that it didn't.

That's one thing I really like about reading good books: sharing them with other people.

Ok. I give up. I'm going to bed. I'll try this again tomorrow.

The Eyeball in the Cupboard (or: I Really Do Love My Family)

Here I am, late again. Good intentions don't mean much, apparently. And I'm up to a week (couting the post I wrote the day before I decided to start this).
There's something about Sunday mornings at my house which I really love. (That is, after we quit paper routes.) I can't say exactly what it is that makes me smile. Ask a friend who's spent Saturday night about watching my family go through the Sunday morning routine. Running dogs in and out and telling them to hurry up and eat, now adding fowl to the list of animals to care for, siblings getting up hours earlier than they would the rest of the week to take showers they didn't want to take the night before, Mom hunting for a lost article of clothing or piece of jewelry or shoe, all to the soundtrack of blow driers and running feet. Always fun.
There are certain things that happen in this house which are seen as perfectly normal but, in any other house, would be a complete oddity. Like the eyeball in the bathroom cabinet.
Yes.
I went to get my toothbrush out of the cabinet this morning and started at the glass eye staring back at me. In another second I was back to squirting toothpaste onto the brush and absently wondering if Wes's allergies were acting up. Mom made a passing comment about it later, but that was all the attention anyone paid it.
Needless to say, our family has its own quirks. We get so used to them that we never think twice, while everyone else is staring at us in confusion. And, in my opinion, jealousy. Wes's fake eye is one of the quirks. We've all grown up with that one around us. We're conditioned to it, in a way. People  will come to me months after we've met and make some remark like, "You didn't tell me your brother had a fake eye," as if it should have been near the top of the list of things to know. I'll shrug. "Yeah, he's had that since he was 1." To them it's special; strange and unusual, sometimes gross, and somehow great for conversation. To me it's the source of a few good stories and the knowledge that, because my brother has a blindspot, it's easier to steal his fries when his head is turned. He and his one-handed buddy at church crack all kinds of jokes. Everyone else stands back in a mixture of confusion, horror, and embarassment, wondering if it's really appropriate, as if those poor boys shouldn't be laughing at their own expense. I roll my eyes.
It's just another little quirk that makes my family all that more endearing to me, like Mom's pouty face when she's not feeling well and wants me to grab her a glass of milk, or my youngest sister when she paces through the house with a smudge of charcoal on her nose and that creative gleam in her eye, or my other sister's reckless abandon when she belts out a song that's intentionally off-key. Like the looks passed when Dad is enjoying too much his day off or my brother pulls another "your mom" pun; the way Mom and I can have a complete conversation without either ever completing a thought; my youngest sister's ability to stare down anyone, friend or stranger, and make them twitch.
Yes, I truly do believe people are jealous when they see us tramping down the store aisles, one of us girls on Dad's arm and another bouncing around while trading jokes with Mom: that boisterous family clearly just from church service calling back and forth about how much milk we consume and if we'd prefer chocolate or vanilla ice cream and making some comment about our chickens. We're genuine, that's for sure. We don't put on a show when we go into public; we're the same people as we are at home. Sometimes it seems the world can't handle that much awesomeness. It's okay; be a little jealous. My mom was always the coolest person to have on youth activities, and inevitably my brother's eye would come out for the sake of the new kids. Only the bravest dare to spend a night at our house, where we have impromptu karaoke in the kitchen and odds are good you'll find an eyeball in the bathroom cabinet.

A rather incoherent late night post

My mind is running in a dozen different directions. I was trying to come up with something to blog about on the way home (ah, summer hours) because I'd been too lazy to blog earlier. I spent most of my day watching movies and hanging out with siblings and a friend who were all only semi-concious as they recovered from Lock-In. I'd spent the night nibbling brownies and watching Karate Kid (the original) and getting to sleep near my normal hour (after kicking Hershey off my bed for the fifth time).

It's been a dreary week.

I need to be careful I don't make this late-night blogging a habit! Right now I'm munching on a lukewarm roast and dodging around Mom while she tends to the chicks and gets them settled for the night. She just did a head count; it's about like that scene in Robots when...the red guy voiced by Robin Williams is trying to count baddies. ("Will you all quit moving around? I think I counted one of you twice!")

Right! Focus (Daniel-San...).

I wrote a post a while ago about late night driving and the dangers of deer on the roads. And my subsequent fear of encountering said creatures on the road in the dark. (Even during the day, but especially at night...) With work, I've been doing a lot of night driving, and I'm pretty used to it. I have to turn on a radio station with junky music because I need background noise but I lose focus when songs I actually enjoy are being played.

Anywho! Due to the flooding, I'm having to take a different route home. This road is narrower and the trees are closer, making it easier for deer to hide. But I had a revelation of sorts: it's not the deer that scare me. It's the other drivers.

People driving at night are worse than during the day. Admit it. Misuse (or lack of use entirely) of blinkers seems to be a prevailing issue around here, but at night people figure they aren't necessary at all. What? And brights? I know there are deer. I'm just as concerned about them as you at. But when you are coming at me with lights equaling the intesity of the noonday sun, you need to be worried about me, because I can no longer see to make sure I'm keeping to my own lane.

However, both of these issues are things I deal with not just from other drivers, but from myself. At least, my car.

The switch with the blinker, lights, and cruise control is messed up. (And it'd over $100 to fix it.) Whenever I need to use the blinker, I have to switch it up or down and then pull it forward. And it's harder to use when it's cold outside. This problem is further compounded by the face that pulling that lever-thing forward also switched on the brights.

See where I'm going?

If a car is coming at me and their brights are just too much to bear, I'll flicker my own to kindly hint that they need to disengage theirs. However, sometimes the poor driver coming toward me is following all the rules of the road and I flash my brights at them anyway, because the blinker won't work. This happened a couple weeks ago. Said approaching driver then proceeded to display their brights as if I need reassurance that they weren't on. I almost missed my turn.

I don't have any of these problems (at least my side of them) in Mom's car. Her brights stink, to be honest. They're the equivalent of another car's regular lights. It's okay if I forget they're on and a car is approaching; they can't tell the difference. In my car, I have to be careful, because its brights are the sort that set other people to flashing theirs.

Wow. I'm rambling. This is totally not what I intended.

Like I said, I had a whole bunch of thoughts on what I could blog about. I usually hit my second wind around 11 at night, if I'm still awake. (I know. The normal person doesn't get that until 2 or 3 in the morning.) But this is as good as it's going to get. I'd better leave now before I do any more damage.