Thursday 25 May 2017

Sounds of the season

I've only just adjusted to Autumn, and just now they're telling me that winter starts next week.  I'm not ready.  I'm still admiring the golden leaves on the oak tree in the front of our property that's over 100 years old and the dampness of the grass on the ground.  The chooks are finally laying eggs again which means we don't have to go shame faced to the egg sellers at the farmer's market every week.  Our friendly beaked community are more prepared for the weather than I am.  They've allocated laying boxes and found perches around the garden when there is no room at the inn.  The lavender bushes are slightly flattened where they've rested weary feathered bottoms at night and the top of the veggie patch polly tunnels have provided a rooftop view for our guinea fowl.  It's a funny sight of an early evening when I step outside the back door with chook feeding container in hand to see about thirty birds rushing towards me like long lost friends.  And whilst I used to think it was just about food, now I'm not so sure. Last Sunday we had a mild, sunny day and spent most of it doing jobs around the garden.  I ventured out to the back paddock in the early afternoon and perched myself on the old wooden picnic table.  It's a lovely look out towards the green hills up the back and you could almost imagine you are all alone.  Very peaceful.  And after a few moments I was joined by head rooster Cyril (pictured above).  He jumped up onto the table and sat beside me on my left.  And then one of our Wyandotte hens also jumped up on the table on my right side and stood there, with us all looking out at the view.  It was quite a moment shared.  There's so much more to the interaction between us and animals but I guess sometimes we rush around so much it goes unnoticed.  I'm only beginning to understand the different noises our birds make.  The guinea fowl have a few sounds, one resembling a rusty spring, and the other is someone trying to start a car, unsuccessfully.  The amount of rooster crows we hear is extraordinary, all different and one that actually even says 'cock a doodle do' like a human would.  Some of the younger ones don't quite reach pitch and some just sound rather painful.  So bring on winter.  I guess if the chooks are up for it then I am too.

Thursday 18 May 2017

That's not all wool...

Can sheep get too fat?  I understand the hungry argument for fat lambs but when they are pets stacking on the kilos, and visitors pass sheepish comments like 'they're certainly in good condition' we may just have a problem on our hands.  Our girls are expected to be heading for the maternity ward some time around Spring, and the plan is...or was, to shear them before they get too, ahem, big.  We may be too late.  They're barrels already.  When it comes to rounding them up it's quite possible we will need to replace the sheepdog with a forklift.  They've been very successful in extracting grain on a regular basis from husband and head farmer, and our generous neighbour recently flung them a hay bale which is now not much more than a few straws.  Rambo our visiting Ram (left) is two weeks away from the end of his vacation on our farm and I suspect it's going to take some doing to get him to go home.  He'll not want to get into that Ute because he knows that life on this farm is pretty damn fine.  He's been hand fed apples and has enjoyed the warmth of a purpose built sheep shack with water views and soft furnishings (old wool).  And Lambie (fourth from the left) belongs next door and is now too big to be hoisted back over the fence.  It is quite a sound when they come thundering up to you thinking you have food to offer.  A bit like a herd of wildebeest thumping through the paddock.  Can't be good for the foundations though.

Thursday 11 May 2017

Room for the chickens up top

Ok, this is not my bed.  But it was a bed I stayed in at a Bed and Breakfast recently run by a couple with exceptional taste in furnishings.  But I'm not just talking about a few quilted cushions and matching tassels, this mattress was the supreme being of all mattresses.  And now I'm ruined for life, alas no other mattress will ever be as good.  We couldn't have a bed like this in our house.  Firstly we have sloping ceilings in our upstairs rooms which would mean that the canopy would be more like a shelf just above your head.  And the curtains would be problematic for us too, as Max would be swinging from them on most mornings.  This bed was at a considerable height and we were warned that a step ladder is often required to hoist one's self on top of this pocket spring, latex covered surface of loveliness.  And way too high for a sneaky cocker spaniel to leap onto whenever I'm not looking.  It's a dead giveaway when Bennie's been sleeping on the bed as he likes to put his backside up against the pillows and kicks out the ones he doesn't like.  Clean sheets and doggies smells.  Yes, that would be a great accommodation offering.  Our house in its present form would fail as a bed and breakfast.  The rooster population rise early and sometimes can be heard as early as 2am (get a watch guys...) and Max starts the strangled cat wailing in the passage about 5am.  Bennie wakes up like something out of a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, all singing and dancing going full pelt down the stairs and crashing at the bottom.  And then there's drive through Minnie screaming at you through the kitchen window when you do surface.  So that's why occasionally, just occasionally we like a night away.  Thank you Devonport Grand B&B.

Thursday 4 May 2017

Supersize Me Minnie puts in her order

Our outdoor cat Minnie appears at the kitchen window around meal times.  A bit like a fast food drive through window she places her order and waits patiently.  At the same time indoor cat Max is screaming for his favourite (whatever the hell that is this week) and Bennie the cocker spaniel knows that there is left over roast lamb in the fridge, and won't stop whimpering until it comes out.  Come dinner time it's pretty full on in this kitchen.  The drive through gets busy when the 30 odd beaks at the bottom of the window wait to place their order.  The chook food container sits on the bench everyday with the leftover scraps bundled in just before service.  Patsy likes her lettuce scraps, Ella prefers left over porridge, Dusty loves the bacon rind and everyone likes the date slice.  The Guinea Fowl prefer the seed and the little black hen we call Little Friend (because she's always at your side) likes to eat out of your hand and doesn't mind a pat while she's eating.  The sheep have sufficient green sprigs of oats to keep them going but Shirley is partial to her piece of apple and will come running at the sight of a core in my hand.  And then, by 6pm it's all over.  Unless we expect to eat.  Next please...