What's Up With That?

This is what I asked the universe yesterday. What's up with that?

Esperanza was our darling Ameraucana chicken who layed dainty blue-green eggs. Well, she was never a steady layer, but when she was on a roll, she would gift us one of her pretty eggs every other day. She frequently went on hiatus for weeks at a time and then out of the blue, there it would be in the nesting box, her blue-green pearl.

When she was a baby chick, she had a lame leg. Throughout her life of almost 2 years, she got along just like the other hens, but with one eye. She was bullied as a chick and we wondered if she'd make it as she often set herself apart from the other 5.

Her early childhood experiences made her the fiercely independent and almost fearless hen she lived to be. She made me laugh many times.

Just yesterday I was at the duck pond giving out the left-over brown rice tortillas. The ducks were swimming in closer to get theirs and the 4 hens and Red, the rooster, came to my feet asking for their share.

As Esperanza, which means hope in Spanish, couldn't always see what was thrown to her, it depended on which way she was looking, I put pieces down just right for her. The other hens are quick to grab. She gave up on them and walked to the pond.

There she was, chest high in the water, picking pieces of tortilla out of the pond. I had to remind her, she was a chicken after all. She came running out of the pond and scooted across the drylot toward the creek where the other hens had relocated themselves.

Coming out of the house from a cookie break with the dogs shortly after, I heard Red's alarming call. I hadn't heard that call before, but that's what told me something wasn't right. It was a constant and higher pitched call than his typical call to gather his flock.

Alice was with him tucked under the Juniper and with his eyes wide open darting from east to west, he drew me in to his dance of urgency. I looked to the west and saw a reddish dog running off through the neighboring field. The horses were all at the west fence, looking. Immediately I went off in search of my 3 other hens. I have been down this road before and if there was any chance of finding them, it was now.

With Alice and Red accounted for, I then checked off Baby and Juanita but was missing Esperanza. I called and called and walked the creek next door shaking a plastic bag of Dole prepared salad that she loves. (On a side note there are still some feathers from my dearly departed Black Top.) I couldn't find her.

Trying to remain optimistic as she could be almost anywhere on the ranch, I returned to my task of poop scooping, keeping my eye out for her or the returning dog. Then, Pinkie was trying to get at something on the other side of the fence. In fact, it was just under the noses of where the horses had been standing.

Oddly enough, right before this, I swore I heard this throat sound that the hens make. I looked and saw the hens off on the other side of the lawn, so it wasn't them. I spun around the other direction looking, could it be Esperanza?

I don't know if I heard her last call for help or her coo to me as she transitioned into a chicken angel or if I was just hoping I had heard her. I did find Esperanza, lifeless. A dog had attacked her from behind, bit right into her back. Coward dog.

My only hope is that she didn't see it coming, that she was being her happy chicken self with her good eye to the ground, relishing in a new find of hatching bugs. Please universe, let it have been that way.

We have now lost 3 chickens to other people's dogs. Why?

We have 9 new baby chicks, 2 of them are Ameraucanas, like Esperanza. They are named Marilyn and Squirrel, one for her blonde feathers and light eyes and the other for her puffy cheeks seeming like they are filled with a stash of goodies.

It's a tough reality with these animals, as I've said before. I try so hard to protect them and I care for them to the best of my ability. Yet in a minute they can be taken from me in the most abrupt and violent fashion.

What's up with that?

(Esperanza is the light brown hen in the foreground of the photo.)

A Great Story for Your Ears

This past weekend as I was running around gathering up ingredients for the 2 German dishes I was to prepare for our International Table: Gastronomic Style, I was listening to NPR between stops. An hour long program, Radio Lab, was on and I found it wonderfully moving. I had to delay myself a bit here and there to be sure I heard the next words that had me on the edge of my seat. If you have an hour to listen to this program, I highly recommend it. If you don't have an hour but you have about 15-20 minutes, move the play marker to about 23:30 and listen to the piece on Carnegie Heroes. I assure you it will bolster your faith in community. Click on the link below and let me know what you think. http://www.radiolab.org/2010/dec/14/

The Duck Situation

The duck situation needs a little updating.

As you know, I picked up 2 eggs a few weeks back. After reading about federal law and that the Mallard doesn't sit on her eggs until she has laid her full clutch, it made sense to return the eggs to her nest. I checked on her nest every day as she added an additional egg. She was up to 6 eggs!

The next morning I went out to admire the arrival of number 7 and found that some critter had raided her nest and eaten the eggs! Just a mess of shells on the ground.

Calcium devastation: destruction of 6 precious eggs and the calcium she depletes herself of as she lays her clutch. Honestly, I'm not cut out for the occasional cruelty of nature.

She started another nest with one egg. I thought I was doing the right thing by trying protect the egg and I put a bucket over it at night. I ran out at 7am the next morning to remove it so she could add her next egg. She didn't.

I guess she wanted to lay before I got out there, so she has abandoned that nest. For a few days I searched for her new nest but couldn't find where she was laying. I thought maybe she had given up.

Then the other day, I was out looking around...surely there has to be another nest somewhere. There are at least 20 female Mallards and our 4 domestic females. Someone has to be laying!

I found two new nests in a thick of cut tree branches. As of this morning, one nest has 5 eggs and the other has 3. But here's the thing, 1 of those 3 looks white like a domestic duck egg. So, if this is the case, whose nest is it? Who will sit on the eggs? If it's the Mallard, will she accept the domestic duck?

Lesson learned: I must admire from afar. No touching. No protecting. But there is that 1 lone egg that still sits up by the pond in the once bucketed nest.

I think when her nest has at least 8 eggs, I'll add that loner. I do believe it's hers.

Oh, and we did get 1 white domestic egg sitting on the ground by the pond. Those we can eat.

What is the Fine?

As you may recall, we have a rather healthy wild Mallard population taking residence at our irrigation pond--strike that--duck pond. All but about 4 fly off each evening but they are back here bright and early the following day.

Yesterday I was walking the perimeter of the pond and came across a duck egg! Our first duck egg. And I had no idea from which duck it came. I picked it up and brought it in.

Not quite knowing what to do with a duck egg, I started my internet research on duck eggs (I sure do miss pulling out a hard-bound encyclopedia, but I think this time, the internet may have served me well.)

First, the blue green egg is from the Mallards. A wild Mallard? Or our domestic Mallard, Mallory? They lay their eggs in ground nests, which in our case is a burrowed hole. This is impressive as ducks have webbed feet, not talons like a chicken or claws like a cat or dog.

Then this morning I found another egg. I wasn't sure if I just overlooked it last night or if it was from this morning.

After scooping horse poop for 2 hours, I came in to eat and I continued my internet reading.

Second, in the UK it is illegal to cull wild Mallard eggs. Gulp. What about Oregon?

Third, the shells of duck eggs are thinner than chicken eggs so the eggs tend to be flavored with the surroundings and possibly with the diet of the layer. So would that make these duck eggs sweet grass flavored? Hen crack flavored? Or with the taste of whatever more the duck eats when not eating at my pond?

Fourth, they say that because the shell is thinner, the risk of salmonella is present. So wash that egg nice and good!

Fifth, most research talks about incubating the eggs. Yes, duck eggs are fine to eat it seems, but incubating seems to be very popular.

Sixth, a clutch of Mallard eggs is 8-12 eggs and they lay one brood a year. Have I just reduced that number to 6-10?! Incubation is 24 - 28 days.

Seventh, our other domestic ducks, Blue Swedish, lay white eggs. I now am sure the eggs I collected are not from Fletcher or Max--well because they are drakes-- nor from Tuxedo Tina, aka Tuxey, Diana, nor Sophia.

Now I am in a pickle. What do I do with the two eggs I culled from the pond? Do we add them to our chicken eggs and eat them? I think I'm too late to incubate them. I can't really return them to the pond, can I?

And do I leave any new eggs that are laid? What about predators that eat duck eggs, such as cats (with the good quality feed these feral kitties get, I hope they wouldn't go after the duck eggs,) raccoons, dogs (they'd be in big trouble with momma,) birds of prey, fox, coyote, etc. We have these critters around.

I've been working on getting Larry to build a proper duck laying house that sits out over the pond. This would help protect them from predators, but can the ducks dig a nest inside a house?

I guess I have to let nature take care of itself on this one. Upon further research, I have discovered that I am in violation and would be in further violation of federal law if I intervene.

Shhhhhhh, please don't tell.

Check out this website: www.wildliferehabber.com/modules/wildlifesection/item.php?itemid=7

Quote for the Day

To have joy one must share it.
~~~~~~ Lord Byron

Catching Up on the Ranch

I'd like to say this is a quick update on the happenings of late on the ranch but quick may not be the right word unless you're a speed reader. But a read it is.

The cats. Well, my friend April convinced me that if I'm going to feed the feral cats that live in my hay shed and barn that I also should catch them and bring them in to be fixed. After some reluctance, I have embraced this challenge whole-heartedly.

I thought I had 4 feral cats. Then I started seeing these other 2. Then the other night I caught Mandy, one I hadn't seen before at all. So, really, I have no idea how far along in my project I am.

So far, Lynxie, Graysin (the beautiful mom with pretty babies--see photo) and La Negrita have been to Bend Spay and Neuter Project and returned home to spend a few nights at kitty recovery center. I brought Mandy in and they discovered that she had already been spayed so they vaccinated her and wormed her and she just spent one night in kitty recovery.

I have two recovery crates set up and the cats seem to do quite well in them. I think they really like the warm bed, canned kitty food, convenient water and clean kitty box. Mandy just curled up in her bed and looked at me through the slats when I put the crate in front of the door to let her outside, as if to say she'd like the extended stay package. Eventually she went out. La Negrita darted without hesitation. Graysin jumped out, stopped to turn around and look at me--I'm pretty sure with appreciation in her eyes--and took off. Lynxie, my first catch, was another sprinter. Although he has since been caught twice more.

My other hobby is cat tracking. With this snow and an occasional fresh dusting, coating or additional accumulation, I can see the kitty tracks and follow them to learn their habits. I think my years of Thursday night CBS watching has honed my CSI skills as I'm quite good at determining the "directionality" of the kitty.

Today, I saw precious prints going in to the pumphouse where the duck feed is stored, but no prints coming out. I went around to the other side and beneath a hole in the wall were dainty exit prints. My favorite is the collection of prints at the base of the heated water troughs. These troughs seem to be a favorite of cat and bird alike.

The ducks. We only have 7 ducks, well, 8 if you count Mrs. Mallard who joined the domestic flock several months ago. But we seemed to have attracted another 40-50 wild ducks. So, in order to feed our 8 ducks, I have to feed 50.

They were breaking the bank feeding them high quality Purina Flock Raiser at $14.95/bag. A kind woman at the feed store educated me in the economical choice of hen crack, I mean hen scratch. It's only $9.50/bag (recently increased from $8.95 due to the rising price of corn.) So, now I feed hen crack during the day to the larger flock and at night when the wild ducks fly off to wherever they go, I feed our ducks the fattening Purina. We seem to have a few regular overnighters--wild ducks that is. At least it's not 50.

This morning I was out there and saw Maxwell grab Tuxey by her neck and dunk her underwater. I had seen this the other day and started throwing bread at him to stop him. For sure I thought he was going to drown her! I hate to say it, but I think I was witnessing duck mating. It's brutal and very barbaric. I threw snowballs today. Then it hit me (not the snowball for those of you [Laurie] who think like that) that it looked a lot like the roosters mounting the hens--sans water. They hold the back of their neck, get on, fluff up and get off. I shudder!

Oh, and the big thing in the middle of the pond? That would be a horse shelter. That was adjacent to the hay shed when we had a freak wind one day that picked that shelter up, dragged it across the fence--broke the fence--tore up the grass and planted it in the middle of the pond (see photo.) It was 2 days before the ducks would go back in the pond. I imagine as that thing came flying in they all screamed, "Duck!" Then the pond froze.

The chickens. A very sad day recently. Three dogs visiting the neighboring ranch came over and killed Black Top, one of our much adored hens, and chased off Peep Peep, the problem rooster. They were missing that late Sunday afternoon and I waited to see if they came back. Night came and they didn't return. The next day I went out looking and found Black Top in the dry creek bed. I followed a trail of feathers to her body. It was so sad. It broke my heart to see evidence of what she endured. I never found Peep Peep.

A week later, I was out at the street talking to my neighbor Todd across the way and he told me a rooster showed up on the other neighbor's property. The rooster had been chased by a dog and bitten. They brought him someplace, I'm not sure where. At least I know he survived the attack. As a week had already passed and I was hoping to rehome Peep Peep anyway, I opted not to call Ron to inquire about getting him back.

Symbolically, that Monday that I realized Black Top and Peep Peep weren't coming back, the scabs on my leg from Peep Peep's last attack fell off in the shower (see photo if you dare.) I knew that chapter had ended.

Now we have just 4 hens, and very good girls. Cowboy Tim who up and rode off one day left behind 2 roosters, Red and Black. After one of them was attacked by another dog, but survived, we brought them over here to live. The boys abandoned their bachelor pad after Peep Peep left and now they all bunk-up inside the hen house. A happy chapter has begun.

The horses. The other day we had another foot of snow, on top of the foot that fell just a few days before. I was out for what I thought would be a quick morning feed and noticed Alibi trying to tell me something. I separated him from the other 4 and gave him his morning cereal with glucosamine and noticed him starting to shake. I watched and he progressed into a true shiver.

These horses are wooly wooly this time of year, but for some reason my hardy Alibi's body temperature was going awry. I brought him over to the unfinished barn and put a cooler on him to wick away the wet and dry him off. Took his temp, listened to his heart and respirations, checked his gums for dehydration. All vitals were good.

I brought over Alibi's friend, Faramir, to keep him company. Larry and I had to clear lumber, lights, saddle stands, hay feeders and several other miscellaneous items from the neighboring stall to accommodate Faramir. Like I said, the barn is unfinished. But now a little closer to ready.

We plugged in a heater lamp, brought in water, closed up the doors and let them be. We checked on Alibi regularly and he seemed to be coming around quickly. Pooped and peed several times--all good. The coolers dried them both off.

So around 6pm under the waning rays of sunlight, we blanketed them up and walked them back to the other horses, kicking through over a foot of snow to get there. Everyone seemed in good spirits. Alibi is a stoic horse. But I'm relieved he communicates when something isn't right. I love this horse.

And Faramir is so adaptable. He and Alibi are like really good brothers. Hy Note is a brother for sure, but there is that rivalry that rears its head on occasion. Alibi is the alpha of this group of gentle geldings. He is a passive alpha: just the ears starting to pin back or a slight head nod or even a glance and the other boys back away getting the message. So civil.

Kenna is learning, she just needs training and schooling and she is all too willing to learn--which is why we keep her around. She and Faramir are in love. Needless to say, when we brought Faramir back from the barn she was all goo-goo eyed to see him. Because we have so much snow, they haven't been out on the pasture but rather in their respective dry lots. Kenna and Faramir are not in the same lot but they can see each other and she spends a lot of time at the common gate.

Pursuit is a good boy. He is a foster child here. He is the low boy on the totem pole and he looks to me for protection and reassurance. He has a health history that we're not exactly sure of. What I do know is that he is stronger now, physically and emotionally, than when he arrived at the end of September. I feel happy for him.

All Arabs (Kenna is Arab/Quarter Horse.) It's so beautiful to open the gates and watch them all prance out to the pasture, tails held high--classic Arab characteristic.

The dogs. Bodie and Pinkie are my dear dear dogs. You have never seen 2 dogs love each other so much. They play for hours, from the moment they get up to the last minute of the day. When they nap, they nap hard, snoring and dreams included. Bodie is into the chase--the herding. Pinkie, the chase and I'm pretty sure the catch. They are obsessed with the couple of gray squirrels that feed at the bird feeder. Oh, you should hear them when I open the door and let them out! They have no chance of getting that squirrel but my goodness, they run like mad for that golden dream.

They love the snow. Well, I'm not sure the snow even registers with them. It's the same game come snow, dry grass, mud, rain or wind. Happy dogs make my heart happy.

The birds. At the moment, I'm pretty sure we have 95% of the Central Oregon Red-Winged Blackbird population. If you haven't seen this bird before, take a minute to look at them. They are very pretty and have the exciting call of spring: www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Red-winged_Blackbird/id.

We also have a healthy population of Brewer's Blackbirds. Doves galore, fat doves. Quail are hiding eggs somewhere nearby. Hawks aplenty, falcons, juncos, woodpeckers, Northern Flickers, Clark's Nutcrackers, oh the list goes on. During the coming weeks we'll start to see more migratory birds. We have our Field Guide to Birds of Western North America handy. We note what birds we have seen and when.

They really like the wild bird seed from Costco. Figures. I tried getting a 50# bag for the same price and they protested. So, we're back to the 40# box.

Deer. Rabbits. Fox. Raccoon. Geese. On a regular night you wouldn't know who has passed through. With the snow, I track prints and smile at the discovery of nocturnal activity.

Feed. When I go to the feed store the guys load up the truck. But when I get home, I'm unloading all that feed. Most feed comes in 50# bags, so a 25 pound bag of something or other is a breeze. Just yesterday I unloaded 6 bags, or 300 pounds, of feed. Moving hay is another daily task. Most bales are between 70-80 pounds.

I welcome day passers to my gym.

I wear a pedometer every day to keep track of my steps per day, striving for that 10,000 steps in a day. I feel good knowing on average I walk 5 miles/day in the winter. During January when we had 50 degree days, I was back to 7-8 miles/day. In the summer I walk as much as 10 miles a day, just around the ranch.

So, when I ordered my new Wrangler Low Rise ranch jeans and opened them to read the label, "Real women have curves" I was at a loss. I can carry grapefruits in my side pockets to fill out those jeans!

The days go by with always a taste of something different. Before I can sit and write a bit, I'm falling asleep only to wake up in the morning and head back out. I so enjoy the time outdoors and the time with the animals. They are funny, interesting, educational, loving, predictable, and hungry. I am happy to be their kitchen. It brings me such joy.

Three Wise Men

Joy, Trauma Life, Three Wise Men, Release, Valor, Clarity, Inner Child, Higher Potential, these are all essential oil blends I have been dousing myself with since last Thursday.

Calming, Kava Stress Relief, Women's Energy, Breathe Easy, and these are teas I have been downing daily.

Nightly yoga, added meditations, a couple of phone rants and email vents, add those to the new ritual.

I went to have my hair trimmed on Thursday and she cut off 5". My hair, that I have been working hard to grow out to one length for almost 5 years, is now up to the back of my skull.

Surely the words, "I'm not ready for short hair." "Let's keep it all one length." "I don't want hair like hers or yours, I don't want it that short." "Just clean it up." would have been fine clues as to just how short I did not want my hair.

She had a notion of some wispy things in the back. I didn't understand her concept so reiterated, not short, one length.

Several minutes into the haircut, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a fairly long clip falling to the floor. I asked, "How much are you cutting off?!" It was too late. She had already cut quite a bit off in the back.

Oh, it was not pretty. When I asked her what on earth possessed her to do such a thing, she told me, "I was listening to your hair." She then proceeded to tell me how she did the same thing to her sister who yelled and swore at her but who called her three days later to say thank you. I assured her we would not be having the same experience.

I had to go back the following day to have something done with the silliness she left on the front. I guess after my shock of how short the back was, she decided to leave the front longer to "frame my face." There was something else in need of framing I'll tell you. Her mother intervened and she took over and did her best to make something useful of what I had.

It was truly traumatic. It kind of still is. I went in for the usual trim, the same thing she's been doing for the last two years and I left with a cut that not only did I not ask for but had I wanted short hair, this would not be it.

The worst part was that she just could not say "sorry" and zip it. She had to keep going on about how it was a misunderstanding because she told me about the wispy things. She just couldn't own up to her very grave error and that was terribly frustrating.

So, I'm doing my best in accepting my hair as it is. As I venture out people are noticing and commenting on my new look. It's hard to say in a cheerful tone, "Thanks!" I just don't feel it.

But here's the thing...my comb is wide toothed to untangle longer fine hair. My hair drying brush is big for you know, hair. I have big clips and scrunchies. I have hair towels.

I discovered that I don't need a fraction of the shampoo I used to use, not even. Hairdryer? It's practically dry when I leave the shower. A hair towel? I have nothing to flip over and wrap up!

Yes, you could look at those and say those are the positives and that it will grow. And you know, I usually look for that silver lining in everything. I'm just not there yet. Just not.

When in doubt or when making a big change, confirm confirm confirm!