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.
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.
You're so lucky you can let your chooks free roam. We get foxes here, even during the day. Would love to have my Girls sitting on the seat beside me.
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