80s in the shade

 

which bothers some of us more than others

~~~~~

the ending of march

Well, March 2023 was a wild ride. It contained the entire Winter's-worth of snow, including the nor'easter that brought down branches on two of my fences, but harmed no one; thank you, trees. The six-foot fence around the hens' pen took a hit from a red oak branch. Oak is heavy wood, and it fell from about thirty feet.

These snaps were taken shortly after the snowfall ended:

The North side.

The top section of the branch, outside the pen.
An arc I later walked through every day 
 by just slightly ducking my head.

from the South. What looks like solid snow in the center
 is actually snow held suspended in air by the net.

Nothing could be done until the snow melted and the netting which had covered the entire pen could be unwound from the crumpled fence sections and eased out from under the branch. I did not want to see what would happen if my Occasional Helper's chainsaw came in contact with a swath of stretchy net.

So for a couple of weeks, the hens have been allowed out to roam around for part of each day, which they enjoy and which is good for them, but...

I've been keeping an eye out for hawks, and sure enough, in the past two weeks I have seen two different hawks scoping out my place. So a couple of days ago, the hens' pen got repaired, including stretching the hawk-net back over the top. And now I have to remind the hens every day that they still have a pretty good quality of life, plus - and this is key - they are still alive to enjoy it.

In other Life Is Good news, after making three weekly trips to a farm to pick up just eight bales of hay, which is what the farmer/magician can squeeze into my vehicle, I was finally able to make the call and promise that the delivery truck could make it up, and then back down, my driveway again. Huzzah! Sixty bales delivered and stacked. 

I am happy. The herd is happy.

Speaking of the herd, here's a little wildlife tale for you:

Last night it rained - all night - and at one point I checked the barn cams and was surprised to see no goats in either barn. They were all outside. It wasn't raining hard, but it was certainly raining. My goats don't generally choose to stand in falling rain. It's hard to get a clear view from the cameras on a rainy night, between the infrared aspect and what looks like visual static from the rain. But I could tell they were all in one area and were all looking in the same direction. I turned on the microphones, but heard only rain - no goats calling for help. No raccoons shrieking for reasons of their own. I got out of bed, prepared to don my boots and an umbrella, but first I switched on the outdoor floodlights: nothing but rain. Got a flashlight, checked the camera again hoping the goats had lost interest in whatever they were watching: they had not. Went to a window overlooking the spot that I imagined the goats were focused on, held the flashlight over my head to avoid reflection in the glass, and turned it on. There, right in the center of the light, perched on a fencepost not twenty feet from the house, was a beautiful barred owl! I apologized for the light, wished it good luck in it's hunting, then turned off the floodlights and told the goats I was pretty sure they would be alright. Then I went back to bed.

The End.

~~~~~

right now

 14F. Perfect for crossing the threshold into February.

~~~~~

another nation heard from

 

~~~~~

thankful thursday

I hope you and yours are keeping well.

If you are able to stay home, I hope you feel "safe at home" not "stuck at home."
It is such a luxury to have the option.

If you are among the people working to keep people and animals healthy, supply chains functional, and everybody fed, thank you so much and please take good care of yourself.

I am thankful that all are well here.

The hens are providing organic eggs daily.

Eloise waiting for the Daily Apple.

~~~

The goats have enough good hay to take us through, with careful feeding, to first cutting. And a delivery from the feed store last week provided my usual Spring top-up of supplies, which my Occasional Helper very helpfully came by to put away for me. I've missed having him here lately, but we usually work together on projects and although he was willing to come, I could not justify the unnecessary risk. (To him, to me, to the world at large.)

However, unloading 50-pound sacks from a feed order is always a solo job, and the bonus since-you're-here task of shifting a dozen bales of hay out to the "distribution centers" saves me a heck of a lot of heavy lifting and dragging for a couple of weeks.

It's uncertain when I will have Occasional Help again,

but I'm certainly grateful for last week's visit.

And I'm not the only one:

 Violet, the eldest, tasting the new mineral mix.

Bud, the youngest, waiting his turn to taste the new mineral mix.

~~~

It's been quite cold lately, but unless it is raining,

Piper and I have been taking daily walks along our road.

It's a team sport.

I do the looking...

and Piper does the sniffing.

 ~~~

There have been many "firsts" in the past week.

The first wood frogs singing.

The first robin in the paddock, first pomegranate finch at the feeder.

And literally overnight, the goldfinches began to color up! One day all the finches at the feeder were the same muted green, and the very next day:

 ~~~

In other green and gold news:

the marsh marigolds are coming along:

I hope you are finding many things to feel thankful for these days.

It's a gift we give ourselves.

~~~~~

poultry report

Lovely organic eggs, collected this morning.

The first thing I do when I come in from morning chores is remove my gloves, earwarmer, and the two eggs in my pocket. In that order.

And here are the Providers of Eggs: Agatha and Eloise.

Photograph taken mid-November.

When we could still see the ground.

I haven't been doing much cooking lately but most days I have a fried egg in some form –  usually omelette-ish, with broccoli or cheese. A new discovery: a little leftover cooked sweet potato makes a lovely addition. It adds a richness of taste without overwhelming the eggs, and a slight density of texture, and just a hint of sweetness.

Agatha

Eloise

You may remember that the hens came here as pullets back in August, because Captain Hastings had become the only chicken on the place and needed company. Very sadly, only a few weeks after Agatha and Eloise arrived, Captain Hastings was killed - perhaps by a hawk. As soon as I realized he had not crowed at 4:20 that morning, I knew something was very wrong, and began looking for him. I found his remains not long after.

A sad and unexpected ending, but I'm so glad Captain Hastings' last weeks of life were very happy ones, spent busily keeping an eye on his little flock.

~~~~~

the week past

The first thing I do when I step outside in the morning:

open the Poultry Palace, greet the flock, and give them a bowl of clean water. Nearly every day this past week, including today, that has meant first thawing the ice from their water bowl so I can clean and refill it. Winter is certainly tarrying this year.

The snowfall lasted a few days, gradually melting.

From way across the paddock,
Fern and Tansy saw me give Betula a peanut.
They came a-running! Ears flying!

When the snow was almost gone, we had hail.

Twice in one day.

But between the hail showers, there was a bit of blue sky:

I've been making an effort to get out in the woods with Piper on as many days as possible. With the cashmere combing on top of regular chores, most of my "upright and active" time is spent in the barn and paddocks every day. The rest of the time I am, to be honest, quite tired, but I feel it's important that Piper has an interesting life. I don't want her to have to snooze her days away on what she now believes is Piper's Couch Exclusively. (Seriously. You should see her face if I sit down at one end. Imagine having someone reeking of pot sit down next to you on public transportation when you are on your way to a business meeting. The look on your face? That's the look on Piper's face. A bit pained. A bit uneasy. "This is so Not Right.")

Anyway, once I rouse Piper from her couch and jingle the car keys, she is rarin' to go. We usually visit our favorite walking area and trails, and if you've been following my blog for a while (thank you) you may recognize certain trees and stones and views. Of course, there is also a lot of this sort of image:

So much happens at ground level in the woods.

This woodland is about two miles from home. Time was when we would have walked there, then "gone for a walk," then walked home. Haven't done that in a long time. Piper would probably be up for it, but I have to be realistic and would rather reserve my limited energy for the woods.

We usually walk on trails; at least I do. If there is no one else around, I let Piper run and she makes big loops through the woods, up hill and down, then catches up with me. Or backtracks to me. I call her to me now and then, to keep her mind on "our" walk. If I have to call her twice and she hasn't come, I go get her and quietly put her back on lead, then immediately give her a simple command - like "Sit" or "Down" - so that I can praise her for something right away. I don't ever want the lead to seem like a punishment.

This was quite a long walk, though a bit cold and gloomy,
and Piper was off-lead for nearly all of it.

Yesterday we took another long walk, and we both went off-trail. This area consists of many slopes, with a series of small wetlands and connecting drainages.

I felt suddenly transported back to the wooded area I spent hours in as a child. The inland version of tidal pools. Magical.

 Yesterday was an ideal opportunity for exploring little streams and seeps, because the Rubus hasn't leafed out yet with its millions of grabby new thorns, and the biting bugs aren't yet active. I estimate that this glorious state of affairs will last about another five minutes, so no time to waste!

All those vertical stalks are Rubus.
In a very short time, it will be a waist-high mass of thorns.
Even if I wanted to walk through it, I couldn't take Piper there.

It's sunny today, and I'm hoping to head out again this afternoon, for at least a short walk. I may bring a snack, just in case.

Yesterday Piper and I were in full agreement about the lack of planning on my part that meant we had water but no food.

More snow is predicted this coming week.

Here, quick: let's look at something green:

I hope you've had a good week!

~~~~~

nearly wordless sunday

I dozed off three times while loading this collage.

G'night now!

~~~~~

meeting the matriarch

Today I moved all the goats out of the South Paddock,

so Tsuga could bring her babies down

and introduce them to the bigger goats, 

through the safety of a fence.

Also, so Tsuga could really run around and kick up her heels.

Which she did.

The babies discovered a rock that,

compared to their rock by the barn, is a massif.

It is a continent.

They were ready for the challenge!

Scrambling up, and leaping off.

Over and over and over.

There was a lot of exploring.

Goats explore mostly with their mouths.

Here is Tsuga,

starting her daughter off on what could be

a lifetime of tree destruction.

Nice job, Tsuga!

(If I want to keep particular trees alive here,

it is up to me to keep the goats well away from them.)

I was keeping as eye on interactions through the fence,

to make sure the big goats wouldn't get too rough.

(A goat smashing its head against a fence,

especially when you are a goat on the other side of that fence,

can be a very scary thing.)

Most of all, I was looking forward to seeing LeShodu,

the Matriarch,

meet her greatgrandkids.

I perched in one doorway of the little raised barn,

so I'd have a bird's-eye view.

(A low-flying bird, but still.)

Betula thought this was a great idea.

He immediately trotted up the ramp and 

joined me at the adjacent door.

That lasted about two minutes.

Then he moved over to share my doorway instead.

Even some of the hens had front-row seats!

Right on cue:

LeShodu walked out from her shady spot under the barn.

Tsuga saw her from across the South Paddock

and ran straight over with her kids.

They all stood at the fence, 

very smart and lovely,

looking through at LeShodu

who was only a few feet away.

Here's what LeShodu did:

She ignored them.

She very deliberately Did Not See Them.

She turned broadside to the fence.

She yawned dramatically.

She looked away from Tsuga and the kids, Very Hard.

Then she walked right back into the shade under the barn.

(Curtain.)

I said, "Betula, did you see that?"

And Betula said quietly -

because he was only a centimeter from my ear -

"My mother has always been...complicated."

Oh, Shodu.

Well, it could have been worse.

The babies didn't seem to feel the snub, by the way...

They scampered off and got busy deciding

how to take down this red maple.

I have no doubt of their eventual success.

~~~~~

notgoat cams

It occurred to me...
since there has been interest in stills from my goatcams, some of my readers may enjoy exploring livecams available online?

In the early 1990s, I sometimes watched a livecam of Dublin while working (endlessly, it seemed, but happily) on my Master's Thesis. I had not yet been to Ireland for on-the-ground research, and it was a little bit magical to have that realtime connection. Of course, when I actually spent 15 days in Ireland in 1995, I chose to spend about five minutes in Dublin, and nearly every waking moment out in the countryside; afoot or on horseback or in a boat. It was splendid. Extremely low-budget, with a backpack full of a change of clothes and about 40 pounds of camera, film, tripod, and research material. I later estimated that I walked over a hundred miles. As I say...

it was splendid. 

And now, gosh, 20(!) years later, I sometimes watch webcams of wildlife and places I would love to visit (afoot or on horseback or in a boat - really, some preferences never change, however unrealistic). Here are a couple of websites you might be interested in visiting. The images below are just screenshots, but the links will take you to the (much better quality) real thing.

I found the Shetland livecams during my first experience (online, that is) of Up Helly Aa, which will be happening - and livestreamed again - in just just a few days, on Tuesday, 27 January! So exciting!

Year-round, the Shetland cams offer several views of Lerwick,

and audio from the local radio station.

My favorite puffincam is sadly not up this year,

but any view of the ocean is very welcome here

at landlocked Cloud Harvest Cashmere.

Shetland cams

And speaking of birds...

the Cornell Ornithology Lab has several livecams, in various locations. This linked list conveniently indicates which are live at the moment: 

Cornell Lab list of cams

This morning I watched a fantastic new camera in Savannah, Georgia.

(If you left-click on an image, I think it will embiggen. Worth trying!)

When I started watching this Great Horned Owl nest,

it was early morning and soft light...

and as time went on*

the sun began to light the branches, and then the mama owl's face.

  *it can be mesmerizing to watch these cameras. Just sayin'...

this is why I almost always have my goatcams open

in one corner of my laptop.

How else would I have discovered that

Azalea is also doing some bird-watching?

Or learned that Acer and Betula have taken on

the responsibility of supervising the snowplow,

on the road far below:

Because after all,

we humans are not the only ones

who like to keep a close eye on things,

from the comfort of our own nests!

~~~

Do you have any favorite livestreaming cameras?

Please share your recommendations

in the comments!

~~~~~