2012

Winter is reaching its halfway point, and I have so many memories filed away in my soul-pockets for days like today. The last two days were amazingly spring-like here, with warm gusty winds filled with hints of the tropics. You could feel the plants and trees fighting their urges, peeking one eye out from their winter dream state before bracing again for the chilly night.

During the summer here I can't find enough hours to explore and watch all the activity. Even the short walk to the car is always charged with potential. Sometimes we'll scare a deer out of the driveway and get to watch it leap, white tail spread high and loud, snorting warnings to the rest of the herd. Or we'll run into the turkeys as they cross below the mailbox and disappear like ghosts the instant they hit the treeline.

I watched them with the binoculars yesterday as they foraged slowly in the leaves, up the hill on the other side of the spring. It brought back memories of the chickens, when the flock would spread out in their daily armies, meeting for mid-day naps to regroup and shift territories. It feels so quiet here without them, figuratively as well as literally. I watch the large hawk as he still visits, remembering his big meal in the coop.

I finally found a contact for the local youth baseball league and Brent is excited to start in March. We started practicing last weekend. Because I couldn't find the softballs, and the only store it town doesn't carry baseballs of any kind, we started out with a kinda-baseball-size-and-weight pink superball. It turned out to be a blessing, because I had seriously overestimated Brent's ability to wield a glove these days. Just on tossing from 10 feet, he had at least 5 good blows to the chest, two to the throat and one that somehow hit his cheek. I mean, if you're missing those throws, we're starting at square zero.

The small greenhouse is already filling with trays of seeds. My charts and garden lists fill the pages of a new notebook. Notes are scribbled in the corners as I try to find the balance in working the garden as organically as I can, but still retain a good harvest. I hope my lessons from last year pay off and that I'll be so sick of canning and freezing by next fall that I welcome the winter break.

For now, I'll keep enjoying the season's beauty as I can. The squirrels scatter off the deck in the mornings along with the snowbirds that like to hang out under the bushes. The large pileated woodpeckers can be seen from far away without the cover of leaves, drumming and talking back and forth to their mates. And I enjoy all the walks in the woods trying to talk above the crunching of the leaves, with no worry of cobwebs or snakes underfoot. Soon I'll be back playing in the dirt and warm sunshine, leaving the forest to its flurry of life, and thinking of the cool breezes from today.

Some time ago, while I was feeding

Suddenly I heard a cheeping

Quiet, muted newborn peeping

Just outside the basement door

The hen I thought had gone astray

Was laying top a nest of eggs

And down-filled babies in the hay

Chirping on the doghouse floor

Now full of feathers, strong in flight

Braving winter's coolest nights

Seeking mom, whose gentle life

Disappeared one cloudy morn

One day soon they'll join the flock

My super-chicks, with waddled walks

To hopefully outsmart the hawk

A feathered life yet to explore

Most of the flock has found a new home - here they are their last jaunt together. The five that remain spend their day in the coop, terrified of the hawk that took my biggest rooster one afternoon. And soon the orphaned babies will join them. I'm hoping one will be as good a momma as theirs was.

I don't miss this guy...AT ALL...cranky roosters.

As much as I dislike winter, you can't argue with her sunsets.

It's raining snakes!

Snakes, snakes, everywhere! The prophecies are coming true!

I'm sure there's a prophecy somewhere that will back me up on that.

In the meantime, I'm getting dizzy trying to watch my feet and look for bears all at the same time. It's not that I'm scared to do things outside, I just like to be alert. When I walk across the field or through the woods, I carry a walking stick, and give the ground a thump with it every few steps so the big things will dart away before I get to them. Good grief, you don't want to know the horror movie bugs and spiders I've seen on my travels here.

And I sing. At least it gives the deer time to scurry off before I walk around the corner and they snort loudly and leap their white tails into the woods. This also avoids my heart rate jumping through the roof because that panicky noise always startles me.

So the black snakes (all 3 of them yesterday, between 3 & 5 feet) I helped to escape into the woods so the chickens would calm down. Those less fortunate with poison fangs didn't fare so well, especially when they were frolicking in the chicken area.

I wish this copperhead was living its snake life somewhere else in the woods, but it would have taken a better man than me to capture it and release it somewhere else. I tried to preserve its beauty the best I could.

The official length was 42"

Brent wanted to help with skinning the snake, even jumping in to cut the skin. He bailed when it started to get smelly, but at that point I was considering it as well.

That night, he made an art project all on his own of a snake.

And yesterday I cooked up my meticulously prepared fried copperhead. I managed a bite, and so did Brent. He liked it, but declined more. I plain didn't like it. The flavor was fine - a little tough and hard to get off the ribs, though. And a little...stretchy. I cannot in good faith recommend it as tasting like chicken.

I'm adding this to the list of things I did not see myself adding to my life resume.

Merlin

Last week you were fine. Then you seemed a little sick. I took you to the vet this morning and they couldn't find anything wrong. Maybe a slight stroke. But I knew... even through your purring.

And now you are gone. I don't know what else we could have done, but there is no more time.

We love you, sweet Merlin. Sleep well.

Flock Evolution

What started out as a peeping handful of fluff is now an army of hormonally charged chickens. One one side we have the roosters, who are fighting their way to the top of the ranks, when they're not chasing the ladies and doing side-strutting dances around them in circles. General Stormcloud still sits at the top, spending all day and night worrying about his flock. He'll herd some away from one area, come to the rescue of his hens when they're upset about the constant attention, or just stand watchfully on guard for predators.

But some of the other roosters are just a mess, never letting the hens rest for a moment and being generally cranky and evil. I've been charged a few times, but have worked my way back up to being on top after spending some time retraining our boundaries. That and a few handfuls of food every time I walk to the coop has helped.

On the other side are my sweet hens, who have given up foraging most days to sit on the deck railing and try to ignore the swimming sharks below. I am getting usually two eggs per day, sometimes three. One is light brown, one chocolate brown, and one white. They're so tiny, but the shells are strong and the yolks are large. And they taste AMAZING!

But the hens are stressed, and many roosters need to go. I knew this day would come, and I've picked out my favorites to keep, as well as the ones that aren't pestering the hens or giving me the stink eye when I walk near them. First on the list was one of the Seahawk twins, as he was the biggest troublemaker. After being exiled for a couple weeks and driven off into the woods each day by the other roosters, he finally made his way back into acceptance. Then he decided I wasn't allowed to walk near any of the hens and charged the boys a few times, firming up his position as "first to be eaten".

And, when yesterday he attacked Alex, he found himself in the oven within 3 hours. The boys have been schooled on what to do if that happened, and he acted quick while I jumped in so he just has a small scratch. Seahawk #1 got a much larger one.

I was so brave for the first 8 innings. Then when I pulled him from the oven and the time came to eat, all the smells and wonder of the day came rushing in at full force. I managed a small bite, but that was all the dinner for me that evening.

The flock has settled a little, and the heavy rains are taking away any reminder of yesterday. Except his twin, who sat under the gardenia bush in the rain most of the day.

I hope it gets easier.