Curious dog + new fish pond =

I didn’t hear Dreamer, my 10-year-old Pomeranian, come up the back steps and across the kitchen floor. I looked up from the computer to see a very sad, ashamed, remorseful and WET doggie. Poor little guy! I doubled a big beach towel around him. We walked out into the front yard to look at the pond. Dreamer bugged his eyes staining to look in the opposite direction. Returning to the scene of the crime/accident/trauma was too immediate to suit him. Camille joined us, gently assuring and patting the sweet distressed pooch. We looked at the pond for evidence. One large rock was missing from the edge, which would have allowed him to lean over…too far. On several sidewalls there were paw scratch marks in the algae where he had attempted to get out. At one of these sites the surrounding rocks were wet with little paw prints walking away. Obviously he had swum around a few times before finding the best way out. He hates getting his face wet and this time the only part of him not wet was his back. He had definitely slipped and fallen in face first. Those of you who know Dreamer know what a chowhound he is, so you will not be surprised to hear a few fish food flakes were still floating from their recent feeding. That’s my boy! He just had to go for it!

Wet dog + fish water = surprisingly OK when dry.

Horny Hens

You may have read a recent blog entry, “Senor Rooster Arrives”. He arrived via UPS as a surprise gift in a long box. We held him. We carried him as we walked around the yard. When he was officially introduced to the ‘girls’, we stood him alongside their run. His manly chest, large comb and wattles must have struck a cord (or something hormonal) with the girls. They paraded around in a circle, passing in front of him. Queen B led the parade. When she was directly in front of him, she lengthened her neck and lifted her head in a strange chicken salute. After the girls had made 3-4 rounds honoring Senor Rooster, they laid down in front of him in a staggered formation, forming a diagonal line, looking like a platter of four folded soft tacos. Each girl had her right leg extended, her right shoulder and wing dropped as if she were wearing an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. Each looked over her shoulder at Senor Rooster, whose painted black eyes were looking straight ahead.

Raging hormones make even the sweetest little debutantes turn into hussies. [No photos taken of the initial rendezvous. Photo above on left is Arriauna 'presenting' as Henny makes a tall salute. Photo on right is Hecky voyeuring, Arriauna and Henny 'presenting.']

Ivy catches a snake

This photo does not do the snake justice. He is much more 'snake' and much less 'pile of worms'.

This morning Ivy, the beautiful, blue-eyed, mostly Siamese cat brought me a very long snake. She had her mouth around it and was dragging its curled up, but very alive body. When I approached her, [this occurred in the backyard, not the living room] she dropped the snake. I scooped him up in an empty flowerpot so I could take him to a better spot for a photo. The photo above is of a pile of snake freshly dumped out of the flowerpot. As I tried to stretch him out a bit to show his yellow striped back and to gauge his length, he straightened, said ‘Thanks for your help’ and did a few fast ‘S’ wiggles and was off the sidewalk and into the flower bed. Had I been fast enough and brave enough I could have grabbed him. Instead, I was trying to stop him with a stick and my foot. The camera in my hand was my last thought until it was too late. You’ll have to trust me that he was four feet, well, maybe, three feet long. He did have a lovely yellow stripe down the full many feet of his back. He looks much like another snake who has lived in the garden for three years and whom I saw today. He is about two feet long and is identified by his short abrupt tail. They each will have private stone houses for weather and cat protection.

Senor Rooster Arrives

Senor Rooster Arrives The UPS truck pulled up in the gravel parking area at the front gate. Camille and I were working in the yard. She called out “UPS, I didn’t order anything but I’ll receive. I said, “I don’t think it’s for me.” After hearing our comments, the driver said hesitantly “I have a package for Three Chicken Farm. Is that you folks?” “ Yes” we answered laughing. He handed down a 3 ½ foot long box. Sure enough, it was addressed to Three Chicken Farm. After a bit of puzzling about no chicken supplies on order, I noticed a familiar name on the label…Ann Dettmer! We took the prized box into the shade. Camille went in the house for scissors. I pulled up lawn chairs. After cutting through much Cello Tape, it appeared to be a box of alien green packing peanuts. Clearing those away revealed another box…more Cello Tape cutting…more, but different Styrofoam shaped to fit the top and bottom of………………A HUGE CERAMIC ROOSTER!!! He is quite handsome with a creamy white body, black vertical stripes, all topped by a vivid red comb and red wattles (the hangy-down chin thingies). He is perched atop an earth-colored ball from which he reigns. When I presented him to the chickie girls, Henny (the most feminine) came running over and nearly fainted with joy. I placed him near the run. The four girls began to parade in a circle past him. When each arrived in front of Senor Rooster, she did a funny lifting of her head. That must be a secret Chicken thing. It has been alternately suggested meaning, ‘Me first’ or ‘Hi there, Big Boy’ or ‘Things are looking up’ or ‘Where have you been all eight weeks of my life? We may never know, but your suggestions are welcome.

Chickie Girls' New Experiences

Pictured in their run...(l to r) Henny, Hecky, Arriauna and Queen B. Today taste buds were tempted and teased. For starters the girls had dry oatmeal flakes. This food is fun because each flake appears to float out of the sky so there is much good-natured jostling and pecking. Hecky, Henny and Queen B are right in there getting their shares. Arriauna had fun doing it but often missed a flake. She would aim at it but her curved beak would miss. She hasn’t learned to take that into consid- eration. She is better at eating mash from the feeder; no misses, every aim is true, every bite a hit. Later they had a spade full of ants and ant eggs from a hill I inadvertently disturbed when moving the lawn furniture. It was an excellent opportunity to expand their palates. Mid-afternoon Hecky grabbed a slug I offered on a stick full of bugs. Henny and Queen B got two small bugs at that time. Arriauna is too slow to get any when the number of treats is limited. The piece de resistance turned out to be cold cooked organic steel cut oats. The girls made unkind comments as they bumped one another aside to reach another beak full of cooked cereal. Wonder if they will like Haagen Daaz? Of course they will....my girls!

Fox, Jr.

To the right of the Eglu, meet Fox, Jr. He is small but he is a fox. A fox in training? He appears to be a teenager from last year’s litter. This photo was taken from the kitchen window 3 days ago. All chickies have run into their Eglu. Only a newspaper and some shadows remain. Camille and I have had several ‘talks’ with him, both in person and in absentia. Not to jinx his 3-day absence, I will say he has not been missed. I pray some fortunate reason will keep him away. ‘Fox in the hen house’ can remain a literary phrase. ‘Fox passing by’ is too close for comfort.

The Sky is falling in Henny Penny

High winds yesterday and ALL NIGHT brought large limbs and entire trees down all over town. This photo shows two limbs down on the eglu. The chickie girls are so resilient they came running out this morning and were so thrilled to chase the leaves and twigs in their run. Running in the run! Do you suppose that is why it is called a ‘run’? No other damage in our yard. Just lots of stray twigs and small branches everywhere. Mother Nature cleverly creates all this wind in between warm lows and cool highs in order for the trees to sway, stirring the sap flow to all the branches and roots. The roots are gaining strength by getting a better grip on the soil. The extra rainwater is settling and permeating down around all the roots. Can you imagine those deepest tiny hair roots calling out encouragement to their sisters? “Hold tight.” “Stretch out around those pebbles.” “The weatherman said it would be better by noon.”

King of the Mountain - Mister Fox

This evening I looked out the kitchen window for the zillionth time today to enjoy watching what the chickie girls were doing. Was I startled to see Mister Fox standing on top the eglu? He looked around like he owned the place. The chickie girls were huddled deep inside the Eglu. I could not see them. I banged on the window and yelled. I ran out the back door and was half way down the seven concrete steps before Mister Fox decided to jump down and lope toward the back fence. He went halfway, stopped, turned, and looked back. I had to bang loud and long on the metal swing frame with a metal pan before he abandoned his blasé getaway. He streaked along the back fence to its end, where it drops off to the creek. I did not hear a splash. Darn!

Raccoon Raid

Muddy footprints all over the bright pink Eglu; the black plastic sack held down by two large pink scalloped bricks, -- now pushed away from the air inlet around the poop tray; the recessed door handle pulled up out of the safe recessed position. This handle described to visitors as ‘raccoon proof’. All this greeted the 6:30 AM visit to the chickie girls. Muddy prints with long toes extending from human-shaped palms are clearly raccoon prints. Apparently they had probed the entire eglu. Poor chickie girls! How frightening to hear the snuffling, scratching, prying burglars climbing on your house.

Spa Day in the Coop

The chick girls .................................,(Queen B, Barred Rock; Hennie, Black Astralorp; Heckie, Black Astralorp; Arriauna Americauna, Americauna) were looking a bit ragged after living their entire lives, 5-6 weeks, in the birdcage in the back bedroom. They had baby fuzz poking our here and there. Hennie and Heckie had dry flakes among their not-so-sleek black feathers. Their nails and makeup looked OK but they were sorely in need of a Spa Day. To the rescue,…a few cupfuls of clean sand dumped in a pile in their coop brought them running like to a sale on egg cups. They immediately began the dust bath procedure. Had I not known what they were doing I would have thought they were having seizures. They rolled, they fluffed their wings, and they lay on their sides and pushed off against each other sliding through the sand. I fully expected them to take handfuls and toss it under their armpits, uh…wingpits. I was so enthralled and laughing so hard I forgot to take pictures. Next time. They look exquisite now. All feathers are clean and smooth. Their previously fuzzy butts are now fluffy powder puffs. They strut with pride. Arriauna strikes her model’s stance.

The Slumber Party

Last evening the chickie girls went into their Eglu before I went outside to close them in. Friends wanted to see the girls so I opened the egg door thinking they would scurry outside to be seen. Ha! I looked down into the nest and could not tell who was who. All four of them were lying in, on and around one another in the nest. I was laughing so hard that Camille said ‘Let me see!” She laughed too. The chickie girls never came untwined. They just blinked. I closed the door. No complaints came from within the Eglu.