Unacceptable!

This morning I had an anonymous phone call.  This person has called 2 or 3 times now.  She never

gives her name but the story is always the same.

It is a poor me story & it goes like this:  Is this the church?  Which island are we on?  Long silence while she considers the fact we are not on her island.  Then she tells me how ill she is; how she has a doctor's appointment on the mainland that she can't get to unless the church takes her...

Lady, it goes like this:  I don't know who you are; you do not attend our church; I don't know where you live ~ or even which island you are on; you have no idea if I have mainland transport or not; you have never offered recompense for my time, my boat fare or petrol; you know you have the appointment so you have had plenty of time to save travel costs & arrange transport; there is the question of insurance ~ which we do not have to cart a sick person around town; there are legitimate companies like STAR who specialise in this, who have paid professionals & insurance.  This is not our job!  I know you, & lots of people like you, think it is but our job is to share the gospel, nothing more, nothing less.  Why are you ringing me?

Yes, I am mad.  This is not acceptable.  In our country we provide services for these sorts of contingencies & they do not cost the earth to access. These are the services who have the right insurance, the right sort of cars, trained carers ~ none of which we have.  Do not ring me. *sigh*

Revisiting an Old Friend.

My mother is a clever woman.  She did very well in school, motivated by the lure of the coveted book prizes that were always awarded to the best scholar.  I inherited her prize books.  These are mostly either the Billabong series by Australian Author Mary Grant Bruce or the *Dimsie*  school stories by English author Dorita Fairlie Bruce.

I wasn't a discriminating reader.  The books were there; I read them. The Billabong books have worn pretty well & I have read them all though I don't yet own them all.  They have been reprinted several times & are on my list of things to be acquired but the Dimsie books are different.  For one thing they are now extremely dated.  For another they have been much more difficult to acquire, especially the first book & the 2  outside of the school setting when Dimsie is all grown up.

I have been waiting a while but these 3 arrived just before Christmas & I have Dimsie Carries On due next week.  What fascinates me about these books is not their storylines, mostly highly improbable & requiring a well exercised suspension of belief, but their historicity.

Books like these reflect with devastating accuracy the cultural mores of the times.  I am old enough, just, to remember all the pink bits on the map were *us* ~ the British Empire.  Us was important. In our family half the family was still in Scotland. The MOTH's family were 2 pound migrants out of Glasgow. For many Australians *going home* still meant visiting England.  Thankfully we're over the cultural cringe now but more than the history books that only tell you what happened, books like Dimsie tell you how people thought ~ & that is infinitely fascinating.

I had only ever read Dimsie Goes to School once, a long, long time ago.  Re~reading it as an adult I wondered that the main theme was considered suitable reading material for children ~ not the card cheating which, by today's standards is very small beans indeed ~ but the death of a child, mental illness, abandonment...And it is so strange now, seeing such a clear demarcation between the school child & the adult & how young the teenagers seem by today's standards.

However, one thing that really, really stood out to me, was the impact of WWI.  No, all the stories except the last are set between the wars but we see the beginnings of Armistice Day, so ingrained now, & the ongoing impact of men who had been through one war only to be spat out crippled, deformed, mentally scarred.  And let's not forget the hair when hair was still a woman's crowning glory & a *bob* the height of modernity!

Canada's *Anne* books actually pre~date Dimsie but have aged better, as have the Billabong books. This is due partly, I think, to a more unconventional central character & partly to more universal environments that haven't changed as much as the boarding school. In Dimsie's world the co~ed boarding school is unthinkable.

Dorita Fairlie Bruce was only one of many, many authors of school stories for girls & one of the more popular ones @ that.  In the way of these things I also owned a smattering of the other popular authors of the time: Brent~Dyer [the Chalet School books], Angela Brazil, & of course Elsie  J. Oxenham [The Abbey Girls] ~ all hugely popular in their day & time, now often hard to get your hands on unless you are a serious collector.  I'm not.  Collecting the Dimsie books fills out the series my mother owned, nothing more, nothing less.

Goodbye, Good Riddance, 2018

We don't do Christmas ~ & haven't for several years now.  There are lots of reasons for this.  Everything from it's the wrong date, it's not biblically mandated to the commercialism & increased family violence & loneliness @ this time of the year.

When it was just us it didn't matter what or how or if we celebrated.  However we now have extended family & both sets come from families who are big on celebrating.  Last year we went to T1's.  On the regular ferry.  In the heat.  With all the ingredients for our traditional pancakes.  With presents. *sigh*  It was a bit of an extravaganza.  Exhausting.  Uncomfortable. Lovely to spend time with the family but enjoyable?  

This year the twins decided they were coming to us.  The Musical child, as always, was working. Chile Girl is in Chile. I did a Koorong run before the MOTH finished school but I spent most of the week beforehand babysitting as T1 moved house: with a 2yr old; with a brand new baby.  It was chaotic.

And I scratched my head...

I'm not comfortable with what this holiday has become but the man insists we have to accommodate because of the children. *sigh* 

So I hung the stockings on our fireplace & put out the nativity but I didn't do a tree.  I didn't do tinsel & baubles & we didn't go overboard on anything.  After breakfast pancakes we don't need a big main meal so we put out pickings: nuts, cheeses, fruit, crackers.  Everyone arrived together on the high tide in the boys big crabbing boat ~ & left before the tide dropped.  I took the Little Man to collect the eggs & let the chickens out.  Later we fed them some corn but my chickens are leery of strangers.  I don't know who was more frightened of who.

 Round about 4pm the chooks scramble up onto our deck & march to the door clucking & bocking & generally making a racket because between 4 & 5 is when I start feeding everything & every animal in the place knows it!

This is Nugget, the Musical Child's chicken.

And the boys took Dilly 2 & the Little Man & checked some crab pots while Our Little Lady & Dilly 1 enjoyed the peace & quite here.  It was calm.  It was quiet.  We have survived.

Just the same I am glad to be leaving this year behind.  It has been rough, much rougher than anticipated.  Roll on 2019.  May she be a much calmer year!

What's been happening.

 I can't say I will be sorry to see the back of 2018. In many ways it has been a horrible, horrible year.  Yes we gained a wonderful new DIL & a very lovely grand~daughter but we also had an ugly family issue drag on & on & on.  It was only partially resolved when the MOTH's mother died.

The MOTH, who has been in bible college all year, was trying to deal with that as well as study when studying is not his strong suite [there is a reason I am the preacher in this family] & then his last week of school there was an accident on the boat that damaged an already damaged spine. I got a nasty virus on top of oral surgery which put me out of action so we have not been the happiest of households this past month. 

In the middle of feeling like death warmed up & turned over all my barred rocks decided to get baby brain & go broody on me one after another.  Honestly!  I was sooo cross. No eggs.   No rooster & I don't want one.  Nor do I want chicks.  We already have major panic stations because a big brown goanna has discovered the chook pen & every time he meanders past there is a terrible to~do. I don't think chicks would stand a chance & I can do without the trauma.

Strange as it may seem, I have never had to deal with a broody chook before.  Lacking a separate small cage & the stamina to constantly shoo her out of the nesting box I simply hoyed her out of the pen on her lonesome ownsome, much to her disgust.  The first day she sat on the nesting box roof & squawked crossly.  Then she sat @ the pen door & made pitiful noises. I went to bed & slept.  Finally she decided  to get over it & her sister went broody.  Same all over again.  By the 3rd chook I was so over it but I don't think she was all that fussed to start with because one day out of the pen & she  was over it!

This is our lovely Little Lady.

Isn't she just gorgeous?

What you Tame...

In 1942 Antoine de Saint~Exupery wrote: You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. 

To tame anything you must earn its trust, harder with some things than others.  Cats can be difficult, wild animals almost impossible though it can be managed if you are patient.  Baby bats are easy & very trusting.  Most birds, even injured ones, are difficult, though they seem to know when one is trying to help them.  Chickens are difficult.  Easily frightened they flinch from even the kindest hand initially & quiver @ being handled.

I am not naturally & by inclination an inveterate animal lover.  I like those animals I know, the wild ones who visit regularly & the ones we own.  I grow attached.  I try to see the world through their eyes...

Which is why I have taken so much trouble with my chooks.  It always happens.  Until you get to know an animal, they are all alike.  Without personality.  Without differentiation. When you know an animal they are distinct. They are in the process of becoming.

So when I was considering breeds I looked @ the generalisations for each breed & I chose very specifically  breeds that tolerate being confined.  Breeds that bond & are people friendly.  Breeds that are easy to manage.  I chose bigger, heavier breeds because they have great difficulty flying & if you've ever had a chook stuck up a tee you know they're worse than cats! 
Now I could keep them strictly in their hutch where it is safe & they have everything they need: food, water, mulch to scratch in, roosts for sleeping & nesting boxes to nest in but it was always my intention to give them some free ranging time each day because just like people animals get bored with the same vista day after day.

Due to the oddities of our block fencing is impossible so I try to combine free range time with my outdoor chores so I can keep an eye on my birds because they like my neighbour's yards.  My neighbours have interesting things.  One lot is trying to grow grass.  The others have a verandah with space underneath.  Some days I spend a lot of time *herding chooks* with a broken fishing rod.  Other days, like yesterday, they behave.  

I seem to have the most trouble when they lay early & I let them out earlier than usual.  Full of beans they gallivant all over the place, refuse to respond to my chuck~chuck treat call & generally head into trouble. 

Yesterday we went to the mainland.  It was almost lunch time when I got home.  Four stone cold eggs lay forlorn in the nesting boxes & my girls were boking desperately to get out despite the drizzle of rain.  Reluctantly, because I was in no mind to paddle about outside in the wind & the wet, I opened the hutch door, more than a little surprised to see the girls herding  obediently towards our verandah.  They like the safety & space underneath & there is nothing on the hill they can really destroy so this is my preferred space for them ~ & there they stayed.  A little later the rain stopped & I called them out the front where I am using them to clear up a weed patch & they stayed there too.

 I sat in a green plastic garden chair in a little patch of sunshine & the girls gathered round sociably, cocking enquiring heads, scabbing in the leaf mulch, grabbing insects I couldn't even see & chucking away to me as if indeed we understood each other very well.  Perhaps we do.  I think this is what God had in mind when he gave Adam animals to care for. I find chooks strangely serene. Peaceful.  And now we are taming each other. 

Boy's Own Classic.

Despite a lifetime of indulging in just about any book that came my way I missed a number of the *sea* classics: The Cruel Sea; Captain Blood; Moby Dick; Master & Commander; the Hunt for Red October; The Caine Mutiny; HMS Ulysses; Ramage; & Hornblower. I did read The Sand Pebbles & Shogun , one of the Chichester's, not sure now which one because I was 9 when he circumnavigated the globe & my family was a sailing one ~ but they were sort of an anomaly. I knew too much about boats & sailing to find the books either romantic or entertaining, which if you have ever been pitchpoled or capsized may make sense because the first word that comes to mind is terrifying. Some of the others I have eventually seen as a movie.

That I read & loved the Marlow books meant I acquired a nodding acquaintance with Ramage & Hornblower with absolutely no desire to read either series so it was mere curiosity that prompted me to have a quick watch when You Tube turned up the Brits rendition of Hornblower.

What a howler!  I have watched almost all the way through, not sure whether to laugh myself silly or declare it one of the best hoots ever.  Have you ever read a Classic Boys Own?  Because that is it exactly! All this noble daring do, courage under fire, Adventure with the capital A, Duty [capital D]...everything bigger than life with these gorgeous English accents, villainous villians & pretty, pretty boys.  Rather tongue in cheek really ~ though I'm not sure it was meant to be. I don't expect the books are really like that ~ or maybe they are...?  I have no real desire to find out.  Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.

A Little Egg~citment.

I think all chook keepers get pretty excited about eggs.  They are, after all, why we keep chickens. 

We had the bonus of starting with 2 layers & got our very first egg the morning after we brought the girls home. I admit I was surprised.  I did think the travelling & change might have put them off, but no.  We have been getting a solid dozen eggs every fortnight.  Enough to keep & enough to give away.

 I have been getting one buff & one pale brown egg most days, of a good size & shape, with a nice firm shell but of course I have been waiting anxiously on my pullets. 

A week or so ago  I thought I was about to have a major problem on my hands because when I arrived to open the hutch my alpha shot out trailing this glubby white mass with every chook hot on her trail to gobble this mess up as fast as possible. Chooks can be pretty gross & cannibalism not unknown  & egg eating is a hard habit to break. On a little reflection I decided one of my pullets had laid a shell~less egg, which sometimes happens with first eggs but of course I then expected a proper egg to arrive shortly thereafter ~ only it didn't.  My 2nd Australorp laid a double~yolker. Ouch!  My rocks ate up a storm. Their combs filled out & grew a brilliant red but not a single egg did they lay.

                          

Then today I let the girls out early because it has been so wet & I have been away so much their free ranging time has been rather limited.  I had had one egg but as the girls have been returning to the hutch to lay I figured if there was a second egg to be had it would be found in the nest & not in some obscure corner of the yard. 

I got my second egg.  I'm not sure who laid it ~ but it is so small compared to the size the Australorps have been laying regularly that it obviously belongs to one of the Rocks ~ which means another of my girl has started laying!

It will have been either Hepzibah [pictured] or Ophelia; Sodapop is still combless so some way from being an egg producer.  Hepzibah is the chook I have a really soft spot for.  She is something of a loner; quieter than my other girls, a thinker & very much an individual. If I am missing a chook from the flock mop it will be Hepzibah, who will be quietly pottering off somewhere on her own with no competition from the bigger & more aggressive birds.  When I dish out scraps I try to make sure some choice bits are easy for her to grab because she will never be scrabbling in the melee with the others. 

I was told that both Rocks & Aussies are friendly birds who enjoy the company of people so I made a point of spending quite a bit of time sitting quietly with the girls when I first brought them home & of course now they know me as the bringer of all good tid~bits & will happily follow me round the yard though we are not on the sort of terms where I can pick them up for a cuddle.

Just the same, having pottered round the yard all morning, as much to keep the girls out of the garden beds as to tidy up, I was surprised to find Hepzibah standing in front of me when I finally sank into a warm sunny chair. She eyed me for a little bit, then sedately folded herself into a feathery ball & her eyes closed in contentment.  No need to worry about predators when I was around to keep an eye out!  

To my surprise both Soda & Ophelia joined her, happily squatting @ my feet until the wind picked up &  I decided I was too cold to be outside any longer. At which point my cats joined me & they did want cuddles!

Learning to Live With Neighbours.

I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a dog person.  It's not so much that I dislike dogs as I find them completely exhausting & just too, too much.  I wouldn't ever choose to own one. 

At one point in time we did actually have a dog ~ a dalmatian for the children & she was a lovely dog, just too much. I like animals who like to be with me but are far less demanding & so for the most part I have kept cats, with the occasional foray into chicken keeping.

At present I have 2 cats & 5 chickens, & if, @ some point, I can talk the MOTH into it, the chicken population will increase because  there are so many pretty breeds to choose from & I would dearly love some silver laced Wyandotte or Cochins, just not @ present because they are both flighty & flyers & I just don't feel up to dealing with that unless we have a proper run.

What we have had, or not had, has never been a problem because we had 50 acres virtually to ourselves the entire time our children were growing up, but that has now changed.  We have neighbours both sides now & they haven't complained about either our cats or our chooks when both lots are dog people. *sigh* In fact, our cats pointedly beat up our right hand neighbour's cattle dog to ensure he understood who was boss & though it was unacceptable for him to invade their territory it was perfectly all right for them to wander through his @ will.

Our cats have been something of a shock to these particular neighbours because they are by no means stand~offish nonentities who ignore everything & everyone.  Indeed their protectiveness of me was a real eye~opener. Our neighbours have also spent a lot of time training & exercising Cooper so he's pretty good about not barking or wandering or fouling the footpath.  I so appreciate their consideration I checked with them before purchasing our chooks & make sure they always get some of our excess eggs because sooner or later my chooks are bound to get into their garden & cause havoc before they are discovered & removed. They are also pretty quiet, even when they are home so we have jogged along pretty well together, doing neighbourly favours while being careful not to invade each other's space.

We have recently got new neighbours on the other side.  Originally we owned a double block, which we divided down the middle when the MOTH's parents bought next door & wanted to put in a pool, so there is quite a bit of land between us & them, though not nearly enough from my point of view.  I could live on a deserted island & still consider it overcrowded.

 Our chook pen is on their boundary & they have never been anything but interested in our chooks & amused by their antics foraging down the hill & across the boundary though I have erected a makeshift fence around the pen because they have put up nylon bush houses where the pool used to be to grow seedlings & if my chooks ever discover this neither bush houses nor seedlings will be safe!

To my horror they also breed Maltese Terriers.  If you must have a dog then it should @ least be a dog! not some weird looking yappy mop.   If I must, I like Alsatians & cattle dogs, collies & spaniels ~ dogs who know how to work for a living & keep their yaps for the important moments in life but not Labs; I cannot abide Labs.  I do not understand the attraction to toy breeds even as companion animals.  One could as easily keep a cat & for far less trouble & noise.  Yep, they're noisy.  They yap constantly @ my chooks ~ & lucky they are confined to their verandah or I'm pretty sure they would be chook chasers. They go ballistic @ my cats & snarl @ the sight of me ~ which doesn't give me great confidence.  I suspect they are biters.

Truth be told, most dogs frighten me ~ regardless of their size.  I don't trust them unless I know them very well indeed & too many people round here have aggressive pit bulls they allow to wander.  I've been bailed up on numerous occasions, needing a stout stick to fend of some pugnacious beast with a Muhammad Ali ego. 

So we are learning to live with neighbours. This is easier for the MOTH.  He is as deaf as a door post & was terribly surprised to learn that our new neighbours even had dogs, let alone bred them while I am constantly finding myself bailed up for friendly neighbourly chats...

Meanwhile I hand out free eggs all round...Just in case ofs....

The Chicken Cats.

The chickens have taken centre stage  recently ~ novelty value & all that~ but the boys are seriously wondering what possessed me to bring these strange, flappy things home? Chile Girl, knowing how much Marlow likes his chook [hot, defeathered, & plentiful] predicted the girls would not last long ~ but they are too big for the boys.  Marlow has only looked, shocked & slightly bewildered [he's not too bright] but Kirby seriously considered a hunt until our smallest bird rose on her haunches, stretched forth her neck & extended her wings.  The lad thought twice & decided discretion was the better part of valour.

And all this hoo~ha to escape trying to juggle new chooks in the heat & humidity of a Queensland summer ~ but the ramifications have been something else just the same. The boys have not been impressed. For starters there is much ado about nothing constantly emanating from the chook house.  For seconds I will open the door & this hurtle of black & barred swarms across their yard clucking & boking & carrying on. To add insult to injury the girls get fed before the boys because I want the girls in & bedded down before I am caught up in evening preparations.  The boys are mortified.  What was I thinking?

Despite Spring arriving via the calendar our weather has remained cold with the added horror of westerly winds & lots of rain, meaning it is pretty miserable around here & our fire is still burning brightly most days.  The girls are cross because they are not getting much free range time. The boys are cross because outside is wet & cold.  And I am slowly going slightly cross~eyed. I have one cat who thinks as soon as he's finished his dinner, my lap is his. Unfortunately Kirby is not a cat to curl sedately in a lap & purr.  No!  He wants to stand on my chest & rub my jaw with his.  He wants to grab my shirt in his jaws & knead & drool.  He wants to pat my face with his claws. *sigh* Luckily the first warm weather will put an end to his antics before I end up nearly as hairy as he is.

Marlow, however, has decided to be needy.  Just as I am ready to drop asleep he stomps up the bed, usually right over the top of me.  He is a big, heavy footed cat who purrs as he comes, then scrabbles frantically at my doona until I stick my nose out ~ upon which he happily plonks down beside me,  his big wedge head draped over my arm , under my chin & across my chest ~ & yes, he can manage all that with no trouble at all. His big rumbling purr escalates to a crescendo in my ear as I finally drift into sleep.  Honestly!  Marlow hasn't been that psychotic since his first few weeks when he insisted on crawling up under my chin all the time. It can' just be me ~ but  all our animals are complete nut jobs!

Woes of a Chicken Keeper.

As anyone who has kept chickens knows, they can mow down a yard of greens in no time @ all. Knowing this I had planted some kale in a pot , kale being unfit for human consumption, figuring I'd let it grow, they could mow it down, it would resprout: repeat... They found the young & tender seedlings & alas, the kale is no more.

So I shifted to my 2nd line of attack: our IGA.  Now the IGA is happy to put boxes of fruit & vegetable scraps out the back for those of us with chooks, ducks, geese, guinea fowl, the odd peacock, hamsters & guinea pigs to abscond with free of charge so when I found my first box I took just enough for ourselves for one day.  BIG mistake.  I am not the only person keeping chooks.  Of course I'm not. Everybody else takes a whole box @ a time.  I discovered this today.

See, I keep a big cardboard box on our back seat in case ofs... & I fill that box & that box only, as I pointed out to the young man urging me to take the entire box of  fresh, luscious lettuce leaves because I am not the only person with chooks & I prefer to leave something for the next person.

 The last time I did a scrap run there were several boxes & because I was first on the scene I got choice pickings which have lasted us almost a week.  Knowing we were getting low again I have been keeping an eye out for the past few days but I haven't been quick enough & the boxes have been empty when I arrived. This is disheartening.  It's not that my girls survive on scraps.  Heavens no!  They have a full trough of top of the market laying mash but the vegetables are a healthy treat.  They clean the stuff up so fast it's like it never happened, so, you know, being a terrible softy, I like to put some out every day knowing it will be enjoyed.

So, I was rather chuffed to find I was first this morning, having detoured after I dropped the man to his boat, because I had just put out the last of what we still had, & I made sure to leave some for the next person because it is so disheartening to find there are boxes out & they are all empty when you are counting on being able to give your girls a treat!

I set off home feeling rather smug, as you do, when I realized that this morning I had planned to use my big cardboard box for pine cones.  *?????* That's right, I said pine cones.  I know the calendar says it's spring but the weather hasn't caught on yet.  It is wet, miserable & cold here & what we generally use to kick start our fire is pine cones ~ which are free & abundant on the roadside as I head home. The MOTH had pointed out the empty basket after he lit the fire this morning, hopeful, I'm sure, that I would take the hint & do something about it ~ which I had fully intended to do.  That's why I had made sure my box was in the car.  The MOTH takes it out when he goes to get firewood. I pulled over to the side of the road eyeing off the loveliest pine cones: big, full, dry pine cones, absolutely perfect for firemaking. Then I considered my box, overflowing with delicacies.

Sensible people would, I'm sure, go home, empty their box & come back, but once I'm home I never want to come out again unless I absolutely have too.  My man spreads a large bath sheet on the back seat to protect it from wood so I tipped the lettuce onto that, filled my box with pine cones & headed home feeling rather virtuous because it wasn't even half seven in the morning & I'd already accomplished 2 chores! And my girls were so happy!

Mind you, it has become a little embarrassing.  Any time I now appear, there is a huge kerfuffle & the girls come running & fluttering from all over the yard, treat expectant, & will hover round my feet in imminent danger of tramping underfoot. I don't always have treats but it is making things so much easier to get them back in their coop.

Recipes From An Old Book.

 I said I loved this book, something I came to the wrong way round ~ which is not unusual for me.  I saw the movie  in B&W  first, when I was a child, & only later realised it was a book ~ later still before I discovered one could acquire all sorts of old books if one had a computer & internet access.  It was the very first thing I think I bought online.

My copy does not have this nifty dust jacket.  It has no dust jacket of any sort & the laminate I covered it with is now cracked & pealing.  The pages are so old they are soft & feathery, easily torn, & to be handled with care.  It is a book I re~read often, delighting in the characters & that here is a book wherein there is no ugliness, no great conflict, but deep faith & a great peace.  It is no wonder I return to it again & again.

It is also a *notional*  book, full of quirky phrases, plants, & foods I have never heard of ~ like Juneberry trees & Floating Island puddings.

Just the name, Floating Island Pudding, entranced me.  What sort of wonderful concoction was this?  Though a little wary since I discovered Angel Food Cake consisted primarily of Pineapple, a food I consider so disgusting as to be inedible!  Anyway, I looked it up ~ eventually ~ which always tends to be an interesting exercise. 

This is a French dessert consisting of meringue floating on Creme Anglaise, though in all my born days it would never have occurred to me to poach meringue!  I swear the French are really odd.

I used this recipe: Floating Island Dessert

 I'm not sure the meringue is meant to look like this ~ & I am equally sure there is a single *island* version, but as there are just the 2 of us I went with the 2 egg version & cheated on the custard.  I don't have a double boiler & the dehydrated stuff is just as good to my mind.  I also skipped the spun sugar topping opting for plain caramel sauce but when I do it again ~ & I will as it is nowhere as difficult to make as I thought it was going to be ~ I will add fresh berries.

A Chook & a Book.

 So we have had our chooks for several weeks now & their distinct personalities are emerging day by day.  This is ODD's Nugget.  She is one of my regular layers just now, putting forth a pale pinkish brown, good sized egg most days.  She s my alpha.  When she goes into the nesting box all her handmaidens follow to escort her in state while she goes about the serious business of putting forth the day's egg.  When she is done, she announces the fact with the minimum of fuss & is royally escorted back into the coop.

Meanwhile Namaste is my largest chook, my noisiest chook & my best layer.  She announces the fact she is about her business loudly as she marches in solitary splendour up the ramp & into the hutch, cackling away at various points along the way.  When done, she proudly announces the fact long & loud as she marches back into the pen.  I get a large brown egg from her every day.

Despite a somewhat shonky start my little flock is starting to meld into one contented group who are now dust bathing in one large feathery mop.  I am greeted in the mornings by all 5 beaks pecking rapidly at their perspex window because they know jolly well I have brought the morning offering.  I make them wait, preferring to deposit their greens & top up their feeder in peace, if not quiet, before opening the hutch & letting them loose.

And they are learning the boundaries of where they are allowed.  Down the hill & in the bushes is fine.  My gardens are not ~ & if they venture there I turn the hose on them. Two of my rocks now have their full, bright red combs so are close to laying.  They are the sweetest, gentlest birds with incredibly soft, silky feathers ~ & as a friend says: You've never seen such pretty chickens!

Meanwhile the sad story of tooth fillings & sun cancer removals goes on so I am traipsing back & forth to the mainland twice a week & having run out of reading material reverted to an old, old favourite: The Friendly Persuasion.  I love the solid sense of place Jessamyn West manages & characters so real you can't imagine that somewhere, at some time, they didn't really exist.
She is also one of the few authors who can make me laugh out loud.

So I was sniggering my way through her short story, Yes, We'll Gather @ the River when This sentence leaped out at me: She held the eggs @ some distance from her, smiling down on them in what she didn't mis~doubt was a two~faced way, since she had forty Barred Rocks of her own all laying like a mill race, till Jess had said he'd cackle if he had to face another floating island or custard pie. And  for the first time I saw in my mind's eye what she was describing.  I must have read that sentence dozens of times over the years but this time I saw!  Because she is describing Barred Plymouth Rocks just like the 3 I have outside right now & immediately the whole picture came more alive because I know how Rocks are & what contented, happy birds they are.  Besides, it gives me something of a giggle to know that I have that in common with Eliza Birdwell, besides the preaching of course.  Besides the preaching.

My Angel has Tatts.

I babysat our Little Man Sunday afternoon.  Just a couple of hours, most of which was spent discussing where his mummy & daddy had got to while he was asleep.

As we had had some serious rain over the last 24 hours we only had a quick walk ~ no park ~ as the sky was still threatening & then played on the swing his dad set up for him.

I headed home again with just enough time before the sun set completely, leaving me to navigate in the dark, which I seriously prefer not to do, only as these things go nothing ever goes quite to plan.  As I headed  into the long stretch of road leading into Capalaba I noticed an odd thunking noise & the car pulling to the left.  Figuring this could not be good news I found somewhere to pull over & got out to investigate.  Yep.. One flat.

Now as a good little Girl Guide & a modern[ish] woman I do know how to change a tire.  The problem is that I can never undo the nuts a man has tightened & being stranded on the side of a busy road @ sunset was not my idea of joy.  So I fished my phone out to call my boy for assistance but before I got through a car heading past me backtracked & a rather large young man came over.  Everywhere that could be tattooed was.  He had an ear~ring ~  & biceps to die for. He works in a car body shop & he was so kind & cheerful as he changed my tire for me,  which took him all of 10 minutes. God is seriously good to me ~ & just for the record, my angel has tatts & his name is Jeff.

Herding Hens.

Having had chooks before I was reasonably confident that a treat, a calling sound & a couple of days practise was all that was needed to train my chooks to return to the pen. And they have certainly learnt to anticipate let out time! 

My lovely black girls, being older & wiser & a little more used to flock habitation, cottoned on after just one day.  The Rocks have been a little slower on the uptake. 

The oldest one has got it but the baby of the flock is invariably floundering round the outside of the coop, terrified I will scoop her up [which I invariably have to do], & seemingly quite unable to find the door, all the while clucking frantically.  She is also something of a loner though the other Rocks will *baby* her, cuddling up to her & allowing her to nuzzle into them while dust bathing.  She is my flighty one, @ the bottom of the pecking order & easily frightened, so yes, I keep a weather eye on her also when they are out & about.

As anyone daft enough to have done it knows, herding hens is not easy.  You get the stray one in & 3 more squeeze back out ~ so round & round you go.  After just once I locked the pen as soon as the majority were in & rounded up my strays one by one with the help of a long fishing rod. All this is necessary as I haven't wanted the girls out if I wasn't around so they have to wait till the MOTH gets home & I wanted them penned & fed before it gets really cold in the afternoons, as it still does. 

Today, seeing as it looked like being an eggless day & we were home, I let them out early while I worked around the yard.  These are hens  that enjoy human company so stay in my vicinity if I'm there.  They are good company, invariably interested in everything going on, & happy to scrutch about in the leaf litter or  make funny little chupping noises as they sun bath.  We had several pleasant hours & I was considering my treat options to lure them home with the least fuss when there was a sudden commotion.  My scaredy chook [named Ophelia because she will stand in the water dish], shot towards the coop frantically & every chook in the vicinity followed her.  All in & accounted for.  No fuss.  No bother.

Hankerings of a Celtic Heart.

When I was a little, little girl I loved fairy stories.  One of my very favourites was the story of The Wild Swans.  We had a beautifully illustrated copy of the Hans Anderson version & after the first time it was the only story I re~read again & again. I have no idea what any of the other stories were.

Until I was about halfway through High School I never, of my own volition, read a non~fiction book.  To me, they were dull beyond belief. My experience was the result of a scientifically minded brother who never read fiction.  His reading diet consisted solely of scientific books , the Guiness Book of Records & weird & wonderful scientific data that no~one in their right minds could possibly want to know about. Consequentially it was something of a shock to discover that not all non~fiction books were about math & science! Some were much more interesting.  There was this vague line that blurred fact & fiction & brought me @ last into the fascinating world of Celtic archaeology.

A long time later, wading through the Mythological Cycle of Ireland, I came across the story of The Children of Lir & was immediately struck by the similarities to The Wild swans.  Still in High School I had no idea about scientific comparison, no idea about the movement of peoples across Pre~Christian Europe or the Indo ~European languages, how artifacts were classified & recorded but I was intrigued to discover, again & again & again, that the old stories invariably told the Truth about things.  The example that really brought this home to me is the story of the harp.

Celtic stories often go into a great deal of detail but I assumed that rather a great deal of poetic licence went into the descriptions of Celtic harps being strung with silver & gold & bronze.  In the way of these things there are 3 or 4 old harps in existence @ various museums in the Gaeltacht & also rather invariably some harp fanatic made replicas ~ only ...problemo! These harps would not tune across the soundboard using the usual wire strings.  If you want all the lurid details you can read about it here. However, they do tune properly if you use gold, silver & bronze wire. [I want an Irish Harp. I can't play ~ naturally ~ but one could learn...]

Still with me? Because the other thing the old stories talk about rather a lot is a game called Fidchell ~ or chess ... or a variety of chess.  Now gaming boards are generally made of wood & wood deteriorates over the centuries so there aren't too many of them around. The National History museum of Dublin has one.  You can see it on 19/27.  And here has a modern replica.  I think I'm in love.  That is seriously cool! The original pieces would have been of gold & silver because fidchell was a king's game but I like these porcelain ones better.

Here gives instructions for how to play.  What I want to know is: How do they know?  Sure, there are hints in the old stories ~ a bit here, a bit there but a lot of what I've read sounds more like our modern chess than this extremely peculiar game.  Obviously I need to do more research because knowing peculiar things no~one needs to know about any more is what  do.

I can't say I really play chess.  I know how the pieces move.  I taught the kids but I'm too defensive a player to be much good & no strategist!   But I hanker for a really nifty set.  These ~ or replicas of the Lewis Chessmen with what looks like Irish knotwork though they are supposed to be Norse.  Something to sit & admire.  Something wonderfully tactile.  Something visitors will want to pick up & handle ~ like pretty shells or smooth pebbles. *sigh*  I could be waiting a while.  These things cost the earth!

Changing things up.

Change one thing ~ & a whole lot of dynamics alter to accommodate that one thing. Getting chooks has altered the pattern of my days.   

Luckily for them I am an early riser ~ earlier even in summer.  Just now our mornings are simply bitter but chooks, like most animals, are creatures of habit & finely tuned to their surroundings.  They know when I get up: the lights go on, the kettle whistles, the cats appear...by the time I get out the door to open the hutch they are jostling @ their window looking for me with chirps & clucks of excitement, anxious to get out & begin their day.

When we kept chooks last time our family of 7 easily generated enough table scraps to add spice & variety to our chooks diet.  Now we are just 2, things are different.  While I generally have a small bowl of pickings after preparing dinner my Aussies hog all the best scraps so last time I was in IGA [our supermarket] I grabbed the fruit & veg guy & asked about their scraps ~ because most places will let you have things like the outside leaves of lettuce, anything spoiled or rotten. You just have to ask & know how their system works.

No problemo.  There are usually 2 big bins each day out the back.  Help myself.  So we tried 2 afternoons in a row.  Zero.  Zilch.  Nado. I got someone scavenging the bins for his food rations who kindly pointed out the bins with the only just out of date stuff ... um, no thank you. So this morning I swung by IGA after I dropped the MOTH to his boat. BINGO!  A whole box of lettuce scraps! My girl are happy campers.

Just the same I have a rather odd set up just now.  In some ways I have 2 different flocks, with 2 alpha chooks.  When free ranging the  Aussies stick together & the Rocks hang together but each party has a lead girl.  When together, I have an alpha Aussie & a beta Rock ~ but both Aussies will tend to hog the best of the food.  I obviously have a pecking order still in flux as my younger birds mature.

I am still keeping a fairly tight reign on them.  This isn't the safest of environments & until they know it better I prefer they stick close to their coop ~ which they have actually been doing.  Easy enough as there is heaps of mulch to scratch & lots of spots for some dust bathing without the need to stray too far but of course now I have one eye on the clock for eggs.  Of course I could just do a collect when I let them out but I don't want to encourage pythons to hang around on the off chance of a tasty meal. Unfortunately they already know let out time is after I pick the MOTH up from his boat & start creating a din as soon as they hear the car pull in.  Won't be happening today.  I am off to the mainland for *stitches out/stitches in* & we won't get back till late. I could let them out for their run earlier ~ but I won't.  They are, understandably, not as co~operative about going back in their cage as they are about getting out & I can't afford to be chasing reluctant chooks round the yard.  The Aussies are pretty co~operative but the youngest Rock gets muddled & I have a loner who never seem to be where she should be so today is lock in day. As the weather warms up they will get more free ranging time but just now I am reluctant to be paddling about in the cold.

Something else.

It has been a while, & our Little Man has grown up so much, since I last babysat.  The Little Man has been visiting his grandma but last week we resumed our intermittent visiting & returned again to the big park which has been revamped over the past few months.

 Things like the net walk, climbing bars & big slide have been built for much bigger children.  I'd've been lucky to manage the net walk ~ no way with the Little Man in tow.  We did the slide ~ once. It is higher, steeper & faster than it was & understandably the Little Man was cautious.  Even so, he refused to sit in my lap to come down.  Equally, he didn't want another go.

 They have this Little House for the Littlies ~ but it is nowhere near as exciting & adventurous & after a cursory investigation the Little Man abandoned it for the peddle see~saw swing. *sigh*  I know why he likes it but as his feet can't reach the peddles & his arms can't reach the handrail I have to hold him on & run!

There was a family of wood ducks nearby.  I do love me some wood ducks & they always have lots & lots of little ducklings in tow @ this time of the year but I rather wished we hadn't gone to investigate as one little duckling had a damaged leg.  As I was carless & this is not my area there was nothing I could do.  I did manage to fob the poor thing off onto another unsuspecting admirer-er to drop @ the local vets on their way to the daughter's netball game, so all's well that ends well.

The Inbetweens.

 In a moment, a breath, winter passed.  The icy mornings turned balmy & the sun through the trees shed only gentle warmth.

I am a person of inbetweens.  It is the inbetween seasons I like, the half~light between dawn & day, dusk & night, the half seen, the half heard rustlings, the shadow play of light, the deep toll of peace where the spinning world rests.

We have been so fraught for so long juggling the needs of others with all the things that need doing till my peace was frayed.  I am best in oceans of deep quiet: the bird song, the wash of water, the wind whisper gently pottering between garden & animals, able to pause because this day there were wallabies  bouncing along our beach, zillions of birds skittering through the trees, the cats that come to greet me with tails raised high & the hens calling a greeting as I pass. 

There is a bible verse that talks about this: The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. You miss it in the rush & bustle.  The cities drown it out.  Only here, inbetween the ocean & the land, in the unquiet stillness, you sense the first garden functioning as it was always meant to function with that deep sense of rightness, everything going about it's own business in peace & harmony.  Just now there is plenty for everyone .  No need to squabble.  No need to fight. You can feel the generous hand of God pressing down till the cup of His blessing overflows.

Some of this &...

The MOTH, who is an eminently practical man, informed me today that preaching for one hour was equal to an 8 hour work day.  I think he thought I would find this consoling.  I do not. I am so wiped it is not funny.

It has been one of those weeks though.  One day I may figure out why everything piles up @ once but so far I remain clueless while I struggle to balance dental visits with doctor's visits & trips to the back of for chooks.  Both doctor & dentist are ongoing.  The dr for skin cancers ~ which involves needles... & more needles... an activity I can in no way abide & which stresses me no end.  I prefer dealing with the cleaning & filling ~ though this too will end in needles as some teeth are beyond repair. *sigh*

My quiet hermetic life hates these disruptions to its peace but some things just have to be done & removing the cancers is one of them for I inherited, not a lovely preaches & cream complexion from my English ancestors but, a ruddy Scots one that does not tolerate our Aussie sun well.  The first 2 were right on the temple but cheeks, hands & arm all need to be checked so we are doing the cut & stitch for the next lot when I have the stitches for the last lot removed.  Such fun! Not.

I birthed 5 children sans pain relief  or epidurals ~ anything being more tolerable than a needle of any description ~ & it takes up such swags of time traipsing to & fro when I could be doing something terribly useful ~ like contemplating my navel.

One Egg, Two Eggs...

 I spent a good part of today sitting quietly watching my chickens ~ which seems an insane sort of a thing to do.  However I find chickens restful.  Their soft chucking & delighted cackles when they produce an egg are eminently serene, the essence of a world that is intrinsically right.

However, my Australorps are already laying while the Rocks are POL, so Kate warned me to keep an eye on the Aussies, who are bigger & heavier, because they might hog the food ~ which they did! *sigh* And I needed to be sure the bullying didn't get out of hand because, after all, all these hens are still babies.  They are still learning ~ so much so they didn't realise the hutch was for roosting in last night & knocked the perch down; it is now firmly glued in place! But all my ladies were upstairs waiting to be shut in tonight.  Some were even actually roosting!

However sitting idly, sipping coffee, & watching my chooks scrabble in the mulch meant I was there when Nugget marched up the planking in solitary splendour to scrabble & thump & rattle & roll in the nesting boxes to produce our very first egg!

We ended up with 2,  Namaste also doing the deed, considerably later in the day.  They are a good sized egg, & a pretty, pale buff pink.  Nugget looks like being top chook, which no doubt will please ODD.

A Little Chicken in My Day...

Today was the day.

I dropped the man @ his boat & joined the long queue of cars, trucks, mowers & cement mixers headed inter~island or all the way to the mainland.  It's an hour trip,  bearable if  you have sweeping views of the bay to gaze upon,  stifling if you get wedged between the loos & the bridge, as I was going over.

ODD had agreed to navigate  for me because one of the purchased chickens was to be hers & I get to look after it because, though ODD adores all animals, her lifestyle prohibits owning even a goldfish.

We had several choices of route but as it was peak hour we took the Gateway, then cut across north Brisbane, only slightly less hair~raising than being on my own as ODD talked non~stop, & completely forgot she needed to direct me!  Never~the~less she did indeed get me to our destination.

Now chooks are messy birds & their pens & coops can quickly get on the pongy side but one of the reasons we were travelling all the way out to Mt Samson was because it was highly recommended & Kate, @  Beautiful Chickens, was the only breeder to get back to me & was willing to chat. So worth the effort.  Everything was absolutely spotless & all her birds are in wonderful condition!  I was madly impressed.

We had lots of choices: Sussex,  Rhode Island Reds,  Rocks & Australorps... but in the end I stuck with the Rocks & Aussies.  The Sussex were magnificent birds, large, splendid, stupendous ~ but still growing!!! Actually, so are the Rocks but they won't get that big!

 And all my birds got squashed into just 2 cages despite my having 3 because Kate assured me they would be happier together.  As these aren't small birds I was more than a little dubious but they travelled ok with only the occasional churring from my black girls.  I also got  informed about feed so got a 20 kilo bag while I was @ it.  Why not.  I had the island car to save all that hefting on & off boats.

 The Australorps are gorgeous birds.  Their black is not only glossy but has a wonderful blue/green sheen so they seem to glow.  One of these is ODD's *Nugget*.  The other her choir Mistress wanted named *Namaste*.  These 2 luscious girls are already laying & I suspect *Nugget* will be Top Chook so my chances of eggs shortly is greatly increased.

The Rocks are @ point of lay.  They still have some growing up to do & were reluctant to leave their carrier when we finally arrived home; the Aussies are braver ~ but they all huddled in the western corner  of the coop until the Rocks decided standing in the water dish was the way to go.  So glad I weighted them down but naturally they are now full of mulch & I will need to clean them tomorrow ~ probably several times.

They gobbled down all the food: kitchen scraps; mash & laying pellets but were terribly confused about where to roost for the night.  I had to shove them bodily into the hutch & whether they found the roost or not remains to be seen but they are such calm, happy girls & were chucking away quite mateily  as they surveyed their new home with eager curiosity.

The cats, on the other hand, acted as if I'd brought two~headed grogons home & yowled miserably. *sigh*  This could get interesting.

Counting Down...

At present I have a number of different things sitting in my yard: a roll of small gauge wire; 3 carrier
cages; a treadle feeder; 2 water containers; a bale of mulch & another of hemp...because we are that much closer to these chickens actually arriving.  Tentatively next Friday..?

Tentatively next Friday I will pick up ODD & head north ~ tentatively because it all depends a bit on the money because money is what will make this all go round merrily but just as I had everything nicely on track the bills started coming in, as they do, derailing all my plans.  It is all a bit iffy. If Beautiful Chickens have the birds I want... If I don't completely lose my head & opt for a beautiful Campine Girl even though they are flighty fliers...If I have enough carriers [even though 3 is all I can fit on my back seat]...if  I can't afford the 5 I want can I manage the 3 Rocks I want & 2 cheaper breeds...If ODD doesn't beg for the one bird I just know will be all sorts of trouble... ☺ 

And it gives me something to obsess about just now because we have packed Chile Girl & her bags back to Santiago & saying goodbye just never gets any easier.  After nearly 8 years you'd think we would be used to it  but this is the side of missionary work no~one ever sees.  We are, for all intents & purposes, invisible.  We are not on the field.  We are not the sending church.  So often we find ourselves waaaay, way down the list, especially on short visits because there are so many calls on Chile Girl's time & her funding so much depends on keeping  people  in touch & up to speed on what is happening so it can feel a little as if we've not had any time with her @ all.  I run her to & from boats, put her washing through the machine & hug her goodbye on the jetty in front of strangers ~ which is so not good because I don't do goodbyes well...

Fifteen months then she is coming home indefinitely because her grandparents are rapidly getting older & she wants to invest the time while she still has them.  She will do some study, find some work & eventually, I expect, head back on the field but as yet only God knows where that might be & what will happen in the interim.

...to All who Sail in Her....

Saturday was the BIG DAY. 

 Their service was a lovely mix of traditional & modern, fun & serious & as neither party is very young they were calm & composed throughout ~ & very, very sure of each other.

However I love this bunch of lads more than words can say! They have known each other literally all their lives. They went to the island school together; played soccer & cricket together; & then, as they grew up they stood beside each other as Best Men & groomsmen. T1 was Best Man for OT as OT was for him & all the lads wore something from each of the other weddings where they were there for each other, which I though was super special, really thoughtful & a quiet nod to all the other marriages they represented.

Now we can all get on with the serious business of walking out this marriage before God.