Say Hello to Ruckus

so this is our new Rooster, Ruckus.

I mentally named him that even before he arrived, because that is what I was expecting from him, but to be honest.............he's really not living up to that, I've barely heard squat from him. But seeing that it's February and we sleep in the basement probably helps, so I'll let you know if I still feel the same way come July with the windows open all night..........and more importantly, the very early AM.

We got him for free from a laid back and experienced farmer that Bob the Builder was working for who had too many. He easily parted with an extra rooster. So easily that by the time I returned the call about whether or not we wanted to do this.......it was already a mute point.............the rooster was already in the box, in the truck.

I didn't really want a rooster, didn't think we needed one, and didn't want to tick off the neighbours any more than the dogs have already done. But with the girls wanting to stay out and party all night leaving us to run around in the dark trying to round them up, and with predators lurking at dusk despite the 2 dogs on the property, and with them seeming to think that I was the rooster, and after losing Little Lucy, which broke my heart......we had to give in and get them a "man of the house".

But seriously, did chicken girls not get the memo from the 70's where we don't need to blindly follow a guy around!!?? Did we really do all that bra burning only for the human species?? Seems so.

So, a week into it, and after a bit of a rough start, Big Ruckus is doing his job.

A few days of him not wanting to come out of the coop, the same coop the girls have been locked up in for weeks since Lucy disappeared, the same coop that the girls tried not to let him in, and the one that he spent a few days sitting under with the ducks ( while his girls ran wild around the property enjoying their freedom again, at last ) he's finally out and about with them and more importantly............he has everyone home long before the dreaded dusk falls.

................last time I looked, he was still sleeping out in the run while the 4 girls are tucked away in the coop, but my real question is........

why are we now getting 5 eggs a day????

Soft Hearts get pooped on.

So there's nothing like a garage full of bird manure to remind a newbie that they really are livestock, not pets.( Shhh, don't tell the insurance company that I'm admitting to this) 

Yesterday was our first really cold day this winter, minus 24 C with the windchill, the day before it was plus 5 and pouring rain, as it was for quite a few days before that. So this is the first real winter experience that the birds have had, being born in July and all. And this was the first time that the ducks were showing signs of feeling it.......I mean really feeling it, windchill and all. They were all set to run for the food as usual in the morning but could only make it a few steps without having to hunker down and stop. A few more steps. Stop. A few more, another stop.

So with the weather being as goofy as can be this year, I mean really, one day it's like April and then the next day it's like Arctic..........I'm not sure if the birds have had a real chance to acclimate to all of this.

And that 's where Soft Heart kicked in, and not just mine BTW, Bob the Builders too, and for the first time we didn't shoo them out of the garage. Heck, I even donated an old comforter to the cause because they were, all 9 of them, trying to sit on one little old rag that fell off the workbench. And have I mentioned that their combined IQ is in the negatives, because after that they still all tried to use the rag instead of the comforter!!??

Now if Rational Brain had of been able to over-ride Soft Heart, the conclusion would have been made that we have already built them a $1000.00 Quacker Box that they have decided to sleep under instead of in. We have since Typar-ed three sides of the underneath part and laid down a good layer of straw for them in what can really only be called swamp, and yet, that's where they prefer to reside. Rational Brain would have said that's plenty, let them deal with it ............Rational Brain would have said that the bottom of the Quacker Box with the windshield and the straw cannot possibly be any colder than a slab of concrete in the garage.

But OH Noooo............. Soft Heart won that argument, and an absolutely ridiculous amount of duck doo in the garage later..........I've come to the conclusion that Rational Brain needs a good talking to about becoming a little bit more assertive.

NOT NICE

So it’s Christmas Eve and we have my parents over for turkey dinner.

Meanwhile our 6 chickens, Lucy, Elvira, Joan and the three as yet un-named teenagers are still "free ranging" and the ducks, well, they are probably happily pooping in the pond. Both dogs and the cat are in the house hoping for fallout out of Christmas cookies on the carpet for later cleanup.

Somewhere between dessert and dishes, Bob the Builder goes out to lock up the chickens and finds that there are only 4 in the coop.

Not long afterwards, the neighbors drop by for drinks.

A couple more trips to lock up the chickens and there are still only 4.

After a few hours, the neighbours head home, and a little while later, so do my parents.

Still only 4 chickens in the coop, 9 ducks pooping in the pond, 2 dogs cleaning the carpet, one cat cleaning himself, and there may or may not be a partridge in my pear tree, but that’s way down in the field and I’m not going down to look. More worried about where these 2 chickens are.

Midnight, still only 4 chickens, We go to bed, but leave the hole to the coop open just in case.

Next morning, Christmas morning btw, and here comes one chicken, chicken jogging down the driveway, like the kid that stays out too late and is trying to sneak in before you notice. ...........so, did she go party with the neighbours last night ??

So five chickens accounted for, one that would be grounded if it was one of our kids, and one still missing.

Not long afterwards, Bob the Builder finds the answer to the missing chicken under a big grove of Spruce trees, closest thing we have to a Christmas tree this year, and very close to the house. Somewhat ironic that while we were enjoying turkey, something else was enjoying chicken for Christmas dinner. Poor little girl, she’d never even gotten a name yet and had just laid her first egg that morning.

I just don’t understand how this can happen with 9 slow moving, flightless, IQ challenged, can’t give them away on Kijiji, perpetually pooping, pieces of coyote bait right there out front. Not to mention 2 large dogs on the property………….oh, yeah, well, there was the Christmas cookie crumb distraction for them at work.

But I must be getting better at this as I didn’t cry this time or get all sick feeling about it.

Maybe that’s because this is the chicken that had me running around in the mud the other night till I cornered her in the garage to take her back to the safety of the coop and realized that she was not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Or, maybe I’m starting to realize that it’s not all fun and games out here.

Stompin Tom Chicken.

I so did not expect this,

I’m working in the garden one day, and Lucy, Joan and Elvira are on my heels "helping" and I take a sudden step sideways. Instead of doing the normal squawking scared chicken jog down the driveway as usual, Elvira hunkers down and starts stomping her feet. I thought it was kinda comical , apologized for scaring her and went about what it was I was doing. As the days go by, this stomping thing happens again and again, and now Lucy is doing it too.

So, keep in mind that I have, as yet, never been able to catch these chickens without a net, but this one time Elvira is hunkered down and stompin, right in front of me, so I figure what the heck, and I bend down and scoop her up. A few days later Lucy runs up to me and starts stompin, so I bend down and give her a petting and then a little scratch on the back, and she’s just lovin this…………..her wings go out, her tail goes up, her feathers all fluff up……………..it’s cute, and comical, and I go on about my business.

So just a few days after this, on Dec 5^th, we get 3 eggs. Amazing, right on cue, Internet says, 20 weeks till they lay an egg, they were born on July 5^th, all 3 of them lay an egg on Dec 5^th,

So by these calculations, we’re expecting the three as yet un-named teenagers to lay their first egg on Jan 17^th.

Long before Jan 17^th, one of the teenagers does the stompin thing to Bob the builder, and he mentions that he figures she’s getting ready to lay eggs, as in hindsight, we are starting to make the connection. Next morning, Holy Cow, 4 eggs, one teenager stompin in front of me and letting me touch her. By the end of the week, we are getting 5 eggs a day.

So we have one hen that is not laying yet, and with this years unseasonal weather, we have 6 hens that want to stay out and party all night. 5 of them let me pick them up and put them away, and one makes me run through the dark and muddy hills trying to catch her till I finally corner her in the garage and win the battle.

So just guessing here, but my money is on her being the one that is not laying an egg every day, because according to the Internet, she’s the only one that doesn’t think that

....................I’M THE ROOSTER !!??

　

　
　

　　

　

Soooo the wrong footwear

OK. so, tested and proved ( like there was ever any doubt )

CROCS are SO NOT the right footwear for winter, no matter how short the trip is supposed to be, cuz once you set out there in them……….it’s going to be an uncomfortable and much longer trip than you expected.

Never mind the obvious………. holes on top that scoop snow down into your toes, the same holes that scoop top soil into the same place all summer, but between them, and the "who decided to put the chicken coop down hill" factor……………yup, slide ride it was, missed the duck pond, landed safely at the bottom, sporting a muddy butt and snowy toes.

So this was supposed to be just a quick trip to let the chickens out, but now I’m at the bottom of the hill, wearing pretty much a pair of highly ventilated jelly beans on my feet and I still have to get back up……….apparently, among other things, to dig out my ever so fashionable (NOT) heavy duty grippy soled winter boots from summer storage.

So when I do get back up there, I start to wonder ……….why do I own these things.

I mean really, they are not at all attractive, the grippy soled snow boots put them to shame in that department. Summer or winter, something is falling through those holes to wedge or melt between your toes. They come in the most ridiculous colors, mine are purple……mauve if you want to get all fashionista about it…and if that’s the case, your whole fashion sense needs to be evaluated.............. by a therapist.

If you do wear them for a full weekend, they give you the silliest sandal tan…….a week of polka dot feet. The same holes that did that, I know what they are supposed to do, but they don’t, your feet still sweat like a pig………well not in the snow I guess, but freezing is just as uncomfortable, if not more.

So why do I own them???

Well they are pretty much go anywhere, don’t need to stop for a footwear change, into the river, out of the river, across the field, into the garden, go scoop manure,  indestructible, and if you do destruct them, who cares, kind of shoes. They also work well in the kitchen as a built in stress mat.

Other than that…….they suck, but I’m keeping then anyways.

A comedian once said about them "there are people all over the world wearing fanny packs that are laughing at you"

I think of that every time I put them on, and make damn sure I take them off before I leave the property.

　

　

This is Canada Eh!!

So today we got our first snow, and as usual I wasn’t ready. The summer furniture is still on the deck, 3 shrubs that will not survive the avalanches of the steel roof are still firmly in place right in the middle of the drop zone, the winter tires are still in a nice pile in the garage and I’ll be damned if I can find a snow brush for the car, so broom to the windshield it is……….again.

This is Canada, eh!

ya’d think I’da figured it out by now that it’s coming.

So I have no excuse at all and can only say….maybe next year I’ll get on top of this

…………ya right, and maybe next year I’ll get that Porsche too !!??

But guess who didn’t see it coming…………..my chickens.

The coop gates opened this morning just like every other day in their lives, and out they came…………and stopped dead in their tracks, wondering what in the world is this. ???

Back in high school we used to get Rotary exchange students from far away places that are not in line with snowfall of any sort, and when that first snow hit……………..it was a totally mesmerizing experience for them. Having lived in Canada all my life, I can’t imagine what it would be like to have never seen snow. But I do have to admit that it has got to be weird, and a few minutes of spellbound silence is probably in order, and well worth ( and much appreciated by the rest of us ) disrupting a totally boring English class for..

So I guess that’s what it was like for the chickens today. Now most of them seem to have figured out to just go hide somewhere, like maybe right back into the coop, but one, Little Lucy had her own way of dealing with this mess.

For well over an hour, she strutted, pecked and squawked on the living room window sill, doing a very good imitation of a carnival game and hoping to be let in. She’s probably seen the cat do this and it works, but sorry Lucy, until you can get trained to poop in a box in the basement…………….you can’t come in.

In the end, she pooped on the windowsill, and left…………… So who won here.???
<><> <><> <><>

Soooooo NOT impressed out here !!!

Me and My Tractor

Nut Date…………………………………………………………October 23, 2011

So, every country girl needs a tractor ………right??

OK, first off, before we go any further, MY tractor, well, it’s a lawn tractor, with a mowing deck, …. .’nuff said.

But, it’s shiny black, gets me where I need to go, and keeps me from having to hike the "hill from hell", aka … the buns of steel work-out, booty boot camp, holy heart attack, the stairs didn’t friggin help, etc.

My Tractor comes with nifty rabbit and turtle settings, has a "safety" butt weight shut-off feature ( that thankfully someone found a way around )

And best yet, it has a handy trailer attachment to carry everything I need.

It gets me where I want to go, unless of course, there’s a lump in the way that hooks up the mower deck, or a slight, non - gravel incline, that turns it into a spin factory, or God forbid, I need to back it up with the trailer attached.

Now backing up this trailer is beyond ridiculous. With such a short length, it doesn’t matter which way you turn, it goes left, unless of course you want it to go left, then it goes right, but most times, it just fully jack-knifes and it’s back side ends up right beside your knee cap. Which, at this point it’s not an issue, unless of course, you happen to be next to a tree. Better still, next to a tree on a hill.

At this point there are 2 choices.

1. play the "I need Help" card….or
2. I deal with it.

Either way………I’m screwed.

1. I get to watch someone do a 757 point turn and effortlessly get out of this situation with a trailer that now magically turns right on command.
2. I get to lay in the dirt and unhitch the trailer.

Now for all you men out there reading this thinking " why doesn’t she just lift the back end of the trailer and move it……………well, for the purposes of this example of said stupid trailer, we are assuming that I have already filled it beyond my lifting capacity, otherwise, I would for sure pick the damn thing up and throw it to wherever I thought it belonged at that given point in time.

So ya’ll are thinkin’ ………..go for #2, … right.!!??!!

Now let me explain to you this trailer hitch.

This is not the regular "put the cup on the ball, hope it’s the right size, if it isn’t, it’s interchangeable, no big deal, flip the lock, put in the pin, add 2 safety chains and away ya go" kinda hitch.

Ohhhhh Nooooo ,

This is the "who in their right friggin’ mind came up with this" kinda hitch.

First you have, somewhere, just inches south of the back axle, a piece of metal with a hole in it. The hole is, oh, just guessing, about ½ inch diameter. Unless you lay down in the dirt, gravel, manure or whatever the situation you’ve gotten yourself into, you cannot see this prize piece of metal because of a series of weights on the back of the trailer. Now I have never asked what these weights are for, I’m just assuming that they are necessary, because they are not at all attractive and seriously in the way of viewing the sought after hole. If I ever find out that they are just decorative, then somebody, maybe even me, needs to be smacked.

So, now that you can’t see the hole you’re aiming for on the tractor, you have the hitch on the trailer……….a U shaped metal thing, with the matching ½ inch holes, about 2 ½ inches apart.

And you have a pin, just a hair shy of ½’ diameter, with a tiny hole in the end of it.

The idea is to thread the pin through the three holes, from the bottom up and secure it with yet another smaller pin.

Now, apparently, this HAS to be done from the bottom up. Regardless of the fact that gravity being what it is, and that vision doesn’t even come into play here, and that the top of the U shape will naturally rest on the metal piece of the trailer end, and you could use your finger to line those 2 holes and drop the pin down, and chances are, it will find the third hole, thus leaving one hand free, maybe even 2,.. ( go stretch, pick the manure out of your ear, whatever.)

But no, this has to be done from the bottom up. So when you do get venus to align with mars, and get the big pin through all 3 holes, you now need one hand to hold it there. Now if you didn’t already have manure in your ear, you will now, because the only way to see that little wee hole in the end of the pin that is now way up there somewhere between the back axle and those pretty weights, is to put your head down there between those wheels.

And why can we not go from the top down???

Because, the last piece of this puzzle, the man size squiggly version of a bastardized safety pin that now has to go through that last little hole is

…."Too difficult to remove from the bottom".!!!

So now who’s with me on picking option #1???

………Thought so.

But don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about my tractor, that’s my choice, because the alternative is the 4 wheeler that tried to kill me.
　

time to go home....................just this tiny little hill to get up

me trying to back this thing up, you can see where I'm headed and just how well I'm doing with that......and it's now getting dark.

Done!!!....well, OK, maybe that's not exactly what I said when I decided to use this approach, but, hey, they don't put doors in both ends of these things for nothing you know.