Goodnight Ladies

Jan28

“Goodnight ladies.” I say as I come up, shining a quick light through the coop to be sure the rouge possum that’s been about hasn’t found it’s way in for the night. The feathery bundles hardly shift from their toe warming hunker as I close the door. But if the chickens are indifferent to my presence the ducks make up for with their blind panic at my after dark arrival. Years of the same nightly routine and not even my “Hey Ducks.” called out as a warning that it’s just me calms them. So after a quick head count, I scoot the door closed on their frantic quacking.

Evening lock up done, I call the dogs and we circle back to the house taking the long way. The dogs happily bound ahead through the snow, no doubt hunting bunnies. The cold air is sharp on my cheeks but I’m bundled up against the cold and I turn my flashlight off, enjoying the sounds of the dogs, the glow of the snow and stars and relish the fact that I’m doing “chores.” As in, I’ve got to go out and take care of the birds. Have to haul that water. Have to make sure they have feed. Have to get the eggs. Have to close them up, safe from predators and the nasty wind that’s building.

Have to.

Twice a day.

I have to go out in the mornings when everything is covered in last night’s blanket of snow. I have to bring the dogs along and watch them tear through the fresh powder. I have to go out through the storms, hearing nothing but wind and snow, cocooned from the rest of the world inside the weather. I have to go out on the crystal clear nights and see the stars hanging low and bright. I have to go out where I can look back at the glow of the warm house through the trees knowing that if I’m a bit chilly, the fire inside will feel extra warm when I get back.

What a “chore.”

I head back into the warm house taking one last look at the bright stars, one last breath of the air that stings my nose and wonder – as much as I love the winter weather, would I leave my warm fire without those indifferent birds awaiting my care? Would I miss all this? I’d like to think not, that when the temperature drops I’d still be out just for the adventure of it all.

But I’ll keep my birds – just in case.

Dinner Time Logic

Jan13

The two new cats have integrated themselves into the family surprisingly well and our evenings have been restored to their former peacefulness marked by a different furry creature sprawled out fast asleep on any available surface.

Until I think about feeding them.

Not when I start scooping food. No, long before that they use their super animal senses to determine that my sneaky herding of animals into different areas had to do with FOOD and suddenly I’m surrounded by the churning chaos of hungry animals.

And then I’m in trouble.

John is still recovering and, lets face it, at this point he’s more like the furry animals sleeping on the couch than an able-bodied assistant. So it’s just me and the hungry hoard. And trying to figure out how to make four-legged dinner time run smoothly reminds me of the logic problems I used to love solving as a kid. You know the ones that said, “If Tommy is wearing blue hat, and Gretta has a cat, what does Mable love?” If I made one for the house it would look like this:

You are feeding Gyspy, the calico kitten, Cassie, the grey kitten, Fiona, the tortoiseshell cat, Storm, the brown hairy dog, and Trip the orange and white spotted dog.

All the animals’ food is in the basement.

The cats can not be blocked out of the basement.

Storm will steal any unattended food.

Storm will take Fiona’s food even if she is there.

Trip will not eat by himself.

The kittens will convince Trip they are feline killers and steal his food.

The dogs will sit and stay and wait.

The cats will not.

Fiona eats different food from the kittens.

Storm and Trip eat the same food.

Trip eats slower than Storm.

The cats eat slower than the dogs.

Cats magically multiply when they are twining your ankles meowing.

It is very difficult to carry two cats at once without bleeding.

Jessie does not want to bleed.

What color is the animal who eats first, and where does it eat?

Hint: Never feed the salamanders while the cats are in the room.

Happy New Year!

Jan1

I lay in the bed, covers chilled from John’s hasty exit, gathering my courage to face the first morning of the new year, thinking it was a good thing I’m not one of those that sees signs in everything.

Ivy had rushed into our room waking us up with a full volume news bulletin on the state of the carpet upstairs. I will spare you the details of the mess in the girls room. Just let me say that it required two adults using a roll of paper towels, a scoop shovel, rubber boots, three plastic grocery bags, a trip to the store for supplies and a steam cleaner to get rid of it.

The dogs must have been having a New Year’s Eve bash of their own last night because clearly one of them is not feeling well.

This morning was not what one would call an auspicious start to the new year, but as I said, I refuse to prescribe to such things as signs and omens. And after all, this year has no where to go but up!

Here’s to a new year; it’s certain to be full of messes and likely to be worth it!

This frighteningly accurate portrayal of my family was taken by my Aunt Helen.

Happy New Year!

Five Dogs at the Gate

Nov18

Earlier this month we had five dogs.

We have two dogs of our own, then due to various circumstances we needed to hang on to the two dogs we borrowed for our hunting trip and when you factor in Digby’s daily visit that makes five.

Five is a lot of dogs when you are lack both a mudroom and an outdoor kennel.

Five seems closer to ten when you lack a mudroom and an outdoor kennel and it’s raining.

Fortunately they all got along just fine. The visiting dogs put up with Digby’s puppy shenanigans and the kids ministrations and so long as it wasn’t raining everyone was happy.

From Left to Right we had:

Digby, our daily visitor the four month old Saint Bernard/Great Dane/Doberman.

Trip, my Brittany Spaniel.

Buzz, my dad’s giant Brittany Spaniel.

Turkey, my brothers mostly perfect Brittany Spaniel.

and Storm, Johns furry Pudelpointer.

For those of you out of touch with your dog breeds a Pudelpointer is a hunting dog with a fair amount of energy that gets expressed with a stick obsession when she doesn’t get enough exercise. (Read Storm’s Sticks for more details.)

Brittany Spaniels are higher energy hunting dogs that expresses their lack of exercise by running into the next county when you turn your back on them – in 30 seconds or less.

The Saint Bernard/Great Dane/Doberman puppy meets neither the high energy or hunting classifications but he does have some puppy exuberance when he isn’t sleeping or growing.

This means that every morning when I did the chores all the dogs came with and we did laps around the property. Many laps.

I’d head out the back door and the previously relatively calm dogs would realize what was going to happen and get a bit excited. Storm would move sticks around. Digby would lick everything that stood still. Trip would fly in circles around the backyard. Buzz would bounce on his hind legs like a kangaroo and Turk would excitedly prance in the background -because he’s mostly perfect.

The frantic, barking circus of dogs would follow me over to the gate and then with the word “Whoa.” five dogs would stop…

Storm was there she was just standing at the back with her stick, and I couldn’t get her in the photo and open the gate at the same time- sorry Storm.

Five dogs would quiver with excitement but they would wait as the gate opened…

Look at that Turkey dog- he’s so good. If he hadn’t tried to eat our cat every other day my brother might never have gotten him back.

Until I’d finally give them the magic word…

“OK!”

Through the open gate they’d fly and in .03 seconds every single high energy hunting dog would be off in the woods following their nose.

And Digby would be standing alone on the path.

Guys?

This picture was taken last week. Now there are only three dogs, but two of them still disappear and one of them still wonders where his friends go.

Guys?

A Snowy Kiss

Nov11

Not even the fact that I had three kids worth of snow-pants, boots, hats and mittens to track down could keep me from doing a little happy dance in the yard when the first big flakes started falling!

Winter is coming!

I just need it to hold on for another week or so while I re-prioritize my to do list.

I’ve got a few outside jobs that really need doing before we get real snow!

It’s True

Oct29

The rumors are true. We went bird hunting in North Dakota for our tenth anniversary.

I know there are a fair amount of you reading this who think that’s grand- you’re probably related to me. I also know that there are a fair amount of you reading this who think I’m nuts. I know this because I’d been telling all sorts of people about our plans before we left. And while only a few were so bold enough to say such things as “Do you hunt?” and “Why?” the rest of them had it in their eyes.

The first question is an easy yes.

As for why we chose North Dakota over some place with sand and drinks with little umbrellas, well…

There are few times that I will willing get up before the sun rises just for fun.

Very few times.

But if you don’t get up early enough to get some breakfast, get the dogs ready to go and get to the field, you just don’t make it in time to see mornings like these.

Mornings in a field of grass that stretches as far as you can see, where you are just as likely to flush an owl or a deer as the pheasant the dogs are searching for.

Mornings so still and clear you can hear the dogs running and sniffing through the field ahead of you.Or the cold mornings where the frost on the grass bursts off as the dogs run through it, leaving streaming trails of glitter in the sunlight as they hunt for birds. As the morning wears on, the birds move out of the easy cover and become harder to find. The dogs get tired. I get tired. But there are always more field to explore. And you can’t stop yet, because there are probably birds, just over the next hill. And yes the hill might be a mile away but the dogs are looking birdy so you can’t stop now. And when you think about it, you find you no longer even want to. Suddenly the birds will be coming back into the heavy cover for the night, the dogs will be pointing left and right and when it seems far to early to be done for the day, the sun will go down. Invariably I will be astonished that the day’s hunt is over, exhausted, yet still filled with plans of places we can go, fields we can try and combinations of dogs we can run – tomorrow.

And, if it’s been an exceptionally good day, there just might be a bit of extra weight on my back.

A bit of weight in a bundle of feathers that holds both the promise of a delicious dinner and the story of following a dog through a sea of grass to see what happens next.

A Great Week!

Oct27

I’ve spent the last week doing this:

With this guy:

And a pack of these:A great week!

I’ve got to clean my gun tonight but I’ll have more pictures to share tomorrow!

Have You Hugged A Puppy Today?

Oct17

My puppy that is not my puppy Digby still comes to visit us every day and I still love him.

Just in case you need a bit of a pick-me-up I’m offering him up for virtual hugging. Any day can be improved with a little bit of puppy love!

Just to clarify the “little bit” does indeed refer to the 50 pounds of tail wagging, licking and wiggling that is Digby.

The Tour – Part 3

Oct12

Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe you are still sitting on that bench! Life just got the best of me for a bit, we took some trips out of town and John was gone and we all got sick and… well you know how it is- just life.

But please, please, get up. Let’s go for a walk, stretch your legs, we’ve got more to see!

We’ll head out the back gate here into the woods. Watch out for the dogs though. Well you can’t see them yet because they have already sprinted up ahead and do their best to catch chipmunks, but they’ll be flying back past us any moment. Storm usually has a giant — stick! Is your leg OK? LOOK OUT! I’m so sorry! The girls think they are being careful while waving big sticks around but obviously they aren’t! But if you can keep your footing with the dogs about and protect your eyes from the sticks, this trail is really rather nice. We’ll just follow it here as it winds about a bit to the far end of the property. Alright, I can see that just looking at all that buckthorn and multiflora rose is making your blood pressure rise. Please try to look up a little higher and check out the oak, maple and pines instead and before you know it, we’ll be in the orchard.

Here we are! Careful! Don’t walk there! You’ve got to watch your step, there are downed apples everywhere and it’s such a nice day that the yellow jackets are out it swarms! Our orchard is small compared to the one you drove by when you came up the driveway. We only have about 30 trees. (Well 32 and one pear to be precise.) Of course you can have an apple! Try as many as you like – well not that one! You gotta watch for worms! Here try this one instead, it’s a Baldwin it’s John’s current favorite. Or over here you can try an Erwin Baur, I love that one. Clara’s favorite is the Yellow Delicious, Jane eats them all we just try to keep her from picking them off the ground. Go ahead and pick her one of those Golden Russets there, they look brown and weird but they are tasty. Ivy – no Ivy scorns all our apples for the neighbors – 32 varieties and we still can’t please everyone.

As you can see we are swimming in apples, we can’t even pick them fast enough this year.

But the chickens are loving the windfalls.

And so are the ducks who are living in the coop we moved. Didn’t I tell you about that? Well…. (The Tale of The Perfect Little Chicken Coop)

We’ve been making apple cider and apple pies, sauce, butter… And that reminds me, have I told you about John? Here we are drowning in apples and he BOUGHT ten pounds of apples! Yes, bought them and brought them home because he thought it would be “a good project” for him and Clara to turn them into dried apples.

Seriously.

What do you mean “What’s that”?

That is a bag for you. You can’t leave without a bag of apples! I’ll help you pick – Not on that! That ladder is a safety hazard, only John is crazy enough to use that one! Here, use this one.

You know, on second thought, let’s get you back to the house. I’ve got lots of apples all ready picked there and you finish the tour with the inside of the house. Just follow Jane and try not to get hurt anymore…