As The Butter Churns

September 7th Love Never Dies

 (Henry and Lindsey -off to the first day- Princess Lindsey is not a morning person.)

     The long-awaited first day of school started out kind of drizzly. Henry couldn’t find his new blue Quicksilver™ shirt or his contacts. Lindsey complained about  her hair frizzing up.Everyone was tired.  It being the first day and all Awesomez and I both went along for the ride. 

 (Lindsey feeling a little bit better about her hair and anxious for the first day of high school)

    The drive went smoothly and by the time Awesomez and I got home, the sun was shinning. She went in to have some eggs while I stood on the porch with Irish. I closed my eyes and listened. I could hear the sound of cows munching on grass in the pasture. I could actually hear their teeth grinding the grass. The methodical chewing was hypnotizing so I just stood there with the sun on my face listening as Irish bat my leg with his shaggy tail. One of my best friends was having emergency heart surgery because of rip in the first layer of her aorta. As I watched and listened to the animals peacefully in the yard grazing, wandering and snorting I felt calm and full of hope. 

 (Lloyd hanging with the boys)
 

    During the day, I puttered around doing things that needed to be done to keep Henry’s Sweet Miracle Honey moving forward. We’d gotten our first online orders and I had to pack some boxes and get them out after school and before gymnastics. I waited for word about the surgery, but no call came.

    I opened a letter that began, “We love your clip!” It was from Kevin Macdonald about some film I shot, “summerday” being accepted for consideration in the movie “Life In A Day”, a Ridley Scott film. Ridley Scott and Kevin Macdonald are you kidding me? The only thing better would be if it was Caleb Deschanel but then again I’m biased. I was so excited I couldn’t believe it. Norton, Midge, Franklin and Lloyd could be at Sundance? Enclosed were releases and instructions on how and where to send the film. Thrilled beyond words I decided to send it immediately. Don’t put off ‘til tomorrow and all of that. Pulling up the rough cut I couldn’t believe my eyes. The footage wasn’t there. Gone. “source code missing” Frantically, I began searching the entire computer. Looking for hours until I finally realized it had been “replaced” due to a problem I had encountered when I putting together Henry’s 2nd Sweet Miracle Honey infomercial. Deflated, despondent and still worried about the surgery, I ate a multi-grain pancake to settle down. I was slurping down some coffee when I heard the geese go crazy just outside the front door. I have coyote hysteria so I slammed my “farm girl” cup on the stone counter and went running outside just in time to see the three remaining girls: Mabel, Linda and LuAnn coming around the porch from the garden to join Lloyd and Cleveland who were standing in front of the living room windows on the hill overlooking the pasture. I breathed a sigh. They were only playing their version of Marco Polo.

"Summerday" reprise

    The rest of day had slipped away and I unbelievably was already behind my own schedule on the first day of school. I had several errands to run before picking up the kids and as I glanced at the clock I wondered if I’d have enough time. Hurriedly, I packed up the car with Henry’s second lunch, a snack and his first dinner. Plus a peanut butter and Nutella™ sandwich for Lindsey, the honey, addresses, shipping labels etc as well as everything else I might need for the next seven hours or so. “Lisa, will you put the barn animals away?” 

    “I guess so, sure.” She called from upstairs.

    “If you don’t it’s ok, I just am worried it’s getting darker earlier”.

    “No I think I can do it.” Awesomez assured me.

    I checked my messages again. No word.

    In a rush I pulled the car back careful not to hit the geese who were all standing on the driveway blocking my van. I always worry since the time I ran Lloyd over accidently. That was a harrowing experience and I remain grateful he’s got such a forgiving body and limber neck. I honked for the geese to move their tail feathers and Lloyd accommodated me by waddling up toward the house.

 (Rat-bat - aka Bruno, far left Lloyd, Linda, Mabel, LuAnn and Cleveland)
 

    Collecting the kids from their various schools I explained,, “Look, I feel I should warn you before I snap. I am very fragile today so don’t mess with me. I’m waiting for word on my friend's surgery and I’m worried. Really worried. She means the world to me."

    “She’s going to be OK mom with as many “Hail Marys as you’ve been saying,” Henry reassured me. 

    “When you say a prayer, you don’t always get the answer You want,” I pointed out. Moments later, he and Lindsey were taking their mid-afternoon naps and I was alone again with my thoughts.

 (Henry sound asleep)

 (It seems the first day was harder than Henry thought- he's a little like my friend, Franz - who also can sleep ANYWHERE)
  

    Dropping Henry at gymnastics Lindsey and I headed over to see our friend Aaron at the FedEx. We chatted about how his 3 month-old, Owen Thomas was doing and how Ray, the Mayor of Bubble Blvd. still thought Tom was married to Awesomez. 

    “That’s Ray,” Aaron snickered to himself as he calculated the cost of each package. Eager to ship my first parcel I stood with Lindsey carefully filling in our customer’s name and addresses on the carbon forms. We about fell over when Aaron called across the store that “Instead of $9.00 for shipping it’s going to cost $75.00 to send the honey to Alaska”.

    "75.00 - that blows my mind!" Lindsey yelped.

    “Um we’re going to have to rethink this,” I said and Aaron nodded in agreement. We rushed off and made it to the bank just after they closed. Perfect.

    On the way home, the skies opened up and it began to feel like the Pacific Northwest again. I checked my messages about 18 more times and left 3 messages before we got home.

    The barn was closed which meant Awesomez had done her job. I was impressed. We walked in the house and I looked to see if there were any messages about the surgery. There was. “I just wanted to let you know I just found out the surgery went well. The stint is in and working.” Relief swept over me like a wave.

    “Hello?” Awesomez called as she made her way down the stairs.

    “We’re in the kitchen,” Lindsey hollered.

    “Where’s Henry?” She asked emphatically.

    “Why?” I asked. “Henry! Henry! Henry!” I yelled.

    “What?” came a muffled reply.

    “Where are you?”

    “Um Mom, I’m in the bathroom.” I looked over at Awesomez and raised my eyebrows.

    "He's in the bathroom."

    "With his computer," Lindsey added snidely.

    "I need to talk to EVERYONE together," Awesomez said in a somber tone.

    “Hurry up!” I called to Henry.

    “Hurry up?”

    “Yes! Hurry!”

    “I don’t know how to hurry,” he cried out.

    “Just hurry!” 

    “Mom! Really?”

    “Really!”

    “Oh my gosh Mom,” Henry said incredulously.

    “Forget him,” I said. “What is it?”

    “I want to talk to you. All of you.” She looked around nervously. I noticed for the first time there were tears in her eyes. Just then the phone rang. Lindsey, always at the ready grabbed it on the first ring.

    “Oh, hello Lisa,” Lindsey responded in her chirpy teenage voice. Almost as the words came out of Lindsey’s mouth, Awesomez who was striding across the floor grabbed the phone out of Lindsey’s hand, and said “hey Lis-,” as she walked out the back door closing it behind her leaving Lindsey and me staring at each other completely confused.

    When Awesomez emerged from the porch I couldn’t help but ask, “Who died? Someone died didn’t they?” She didn’t say a thing. I looked around the room, first for Vivian then Luther. “Where’s Luther?”

    “He’s right here,” Lindsey confirmed.

    “And finally Rat-bat?” Henry pointed to a pile of blankets. I knew Irish was on the porch. By this time Henry had joined us in the family room.

    There are moments in your life when you can just feel everything is going to change. This was one of those moments. 

    Awesomez took a deep breath “Just tell us,” I said quietly. She nodded and began.

    “I went out to put the barn animals away around oh I’d say about 6:00, right after I ate. I didn’t want to wait for dark because I knew it would take me awhile and I knew too they might be uncomfortable with me since they don’t really know me. Well, when I went outside I saw the geese by the barbecue and Lloyd wasn’t there.”

    “What?” I asked.

    “Lloyd! Not Lloyd!” Henry said distraught.

    “Oh my gosh, Momma are you sure? Do you know which one he is?” Lindsey said in disbelief.

    She went on, “Lloyd wasn’t there. He’s the one with the pink band around his leg right?” I closed my eyes. Awesomez hadn't stopped crying since she'd begun to speak. "I didn’t want to tell you this. I know how special he was to you. He wasn’t a goose he was a pet. So I went looking for him. I went down by the apple trees and the pasture. It was pouring rain. I walked out by the creek and the pond. I didn’t find anything.”

    “Not feathers? Or a body,” I asked as stoically as I could muster. I didn’t’ want to fall apart. I knew how hard this must be for her to tell me. After all I’ve delivered enough bad news in my time.

    “No, nothing. I must have looked for more than forty-five minutes. I figure he must have just been snatched by coyote in broad daylight.”

    “In broad daylight, that’s really bad.” I said the realization bubbling up. I couldn’t believe it. “He was here when I left this afternoon,” I said thinking of his fluffiness. His soft feathers and how he used to nibble at my neck.

    “Are you sure?” She questioned. "Was he here when you left?"

    “I’m sure, he crossed in front of the van. I saw all of them.” I could barely grieve for my friend, Lloyd, because even though he was gone now I had a barn full of animals I had to worry about. The coyote have now gotten three birds. They’re going to keep coming back picking them off one by one. Unless we do something,” I said as tears welled up in my eyes. Was he really gone? I hoped against hope he was just hiding. I thought of the time when he had lured Irish away from the rest of the gaggle. “I’m sure he lured the coyote away from his girls. He sacrificed himself for his family.” 

    “Poor Lloyd,” Lindsey said quietly. "Momma, I can't believe you're crying more than anyone. You don't even like the geese."

    "I know, but Lloyd was a huge personality on the farm. I don't even know the damn goats names still. Of course, I know Norton and Midge and Miracle, but Lloyd was special. He didn't bite, he was always friendly. And I was there when Denise ran over him. I could tell then she loved him. I've been crying since I realized he was gone. I can't stop."

    Funny thing was, I didn’t cry, nor did Henry. This surprised Awesomez who hugged me. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this. I didn’t want to call you and have you have to drive home knowing. I know how much you loved him. I really looked everywhere I could think of, but eventually I knew I had to put the rest of the barn away.” 

    Henry just sat there saying nothing. “You’re in shock,” she said softly. Henry replied,

    “I’ve experienced a lot of death” and just continued to sit there emotionless.  The room seemed to close in on me. I moved into the mudroom grabbed a jacket off a hook and stuffed my arms through the sleeves. It wasn’t until I was almost to the barn door that I realized I had a phone in my pocket and called Tom.

    “Lloyd, my sweet Lloyd was taken by coyote.”

    “Not Lloyd,” he gasped.

    “I know it’s silly to love a goose this way. He was just a dumb bird, but I really, really am so sad he’s gone. I can’t believe it. I guess that’s why I’m on my way to the barn. He was so soft and full of kisses for me.” 

    “It’s not silly. He’s always been attached to you. He followed you everywhere. He’s always cuddled in your arms, knocked on the door when he wanted you to come outside. He’s always been special.”

    “Maybe he got away,” I hoped. “I mean I know he’s dead, but I can’t help but hope. First Clara and now him. I don't think it's any accident the parents are gone.”

    “And that chicken,” Tom tallied. “I’m really disappointed in Miracle.”

    “Me too, but you know she’s changed. She foundered which means her legs are different. She’s wearing that muzzle which makes her more vulnerable. She’s outside at night fending off predators and not sleeping. And she has a huge amount of land to cover. She can’t do it all.”

    “I guess,” he conceded reluctantly. “We’ve just never lost animals like this before.”

    “I know. Things have changed. It’s the end of Camelot. I feel like the coyote are a blood-thirsty gang bringing a reign of terror over the farm. It may sound dramatic, but I mean it. I can’t let anyone out, of the barn. Frank might be next. The coyotes know they can get a meal here and it’ll be like we’re running a lunch buffet.”

    “You’re right. They’ll start with the birds, but that won’t feed a pack for long and the goats are just as vulnerable,’ he reminded me. 

    “I know.” I said putting my hand on the door to the barn. I didn’t want to go inside, but I had to. “I’ll call you later, I have to go in the barn now,” I practically whispered as I stepped inside.

    The barn was dark. Running my fingers along the weathered plywood wall I flipped on light after light. Tonight darkness was not my friend. Peering in the first pen I saw Frank and Silence huddled together. They were safe. The ducks were resting in a cluster. Safe. I took a double take. 1-2-3-4-5. One was missing. Looking up I saw some chickens fluttering about in the rafters.

 (Franklin and Silence in their pen)

 (the ducks with some rogue chickens)
 
     Finally, I walked over to the goat and sheep pen where the remaining geese were. Sitting in pairs Christina & Rachel and Riley & Alexander looked up at me wide-eyed. The sheep looked like glowing cotton balls in the far corner of the enclosure. I made myself look over at the geese. There was only one white goose now. I choked back a sob. Mabel, Cleveland, Linda, and LuAnn started honking at me. Cleveland stood up tall the way Lloyd always did. Tears started dripping. I hoped for a moment Awesomez had been wrong and that it was Lloyd in the pen. Fumbling with the chain to the pen I undid it and went in. Sitting on the ground I looked and my heart fell. It was Cleveland. 

I missed my friend. I missed the way he looked at me - he touched my heart that silly goose.  I knew the barn wouldn't ever feel the same. I had thought he'd be around for so many years to come. I felt I'd let him down somehow. Selfishly, I was so relieved I'd followed my instincts and asked Awesomez to put the barn away before dark. If I hadn't and I'd come home I'd have always wondered if I could have prevented it.  I knew I had to push past the loss. Lloyd had died to save his family and I needed to protect them now. All of the animals were depending on me. What I needed was a fence. Good I thought, now at least I had a plan. I would build a fence and protect my charges. A plan makes you feel in control. I needed to feel in control, especially as I heard the yips of the pack somewhere in the hills.

 (And then there were four)
 

    I locked up the barn and called Tom, “ There's a duck missing too. I think I know what we can do. We need a fence. If we had a fence down to the pasture then Miracle and Edward could be made to stay up close again and protect the remaining animals.”

    “True.” I could hear him thinking it through.

    “I’m sure Alexis would help me if I can get the wood,” I said confidently. “Now I just have to figure out how to get the wood.”

    I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking I heard Lloyd outside. I wondered if maybe he’d gotten away and was hiding. My sister said, “Maybe like in so many other sayings, there’s truth in ‘wild goose chase’ and maybe just maybe he got away.”

    The coyotes hooted and yipped and terrorized the pasture all night. Determined not to lose any more animals tonight, Irish and I hopped in the van with a flashlight and patrolled the pasture. I was worried about Lucky sitting lame in the field so vulnerable.Miracle was apparently on sabbatical.  With Irish to keep me warm and completely exhausted, I fell asleep on the sofa around 3:00AM.

    Awesomez woke me with sad eyes and cup of hot coffee. This was a new day. I looked outside by the barn doors - just in case. But sometimes prayers aren't answered the way you want.

March 13h Ewe Never Know

 (Sheryl - half Leceister Longwool and half Navajo Churro)

    Last night when we got home after gymnastics , we realized two of our sheep were missing, Apache and Sheryl. Henry and I drove around looking everywhere. Calling and screaming up and down Mosquito Lake Road until our throats were hoarse.

    “Mom, they wouldn’t have wandered this far” Henry informed me as we drove past the pasture again in search of two very large fluff balls.

    “Henry, they’re not here so they clearly did.” I explained the obvious. “I don’t know why they would leave the flock, but I know they would come back if they could.”

    “Do you think they’re dead?” Henry asked seriously.

    “I have to think there’s a chance they’re bed down for the night, but there is also a real possibility they’re dead honey, yes, 

    “What do you think made them wander so far off?”

    “I don’t know, I just can’t imagine,” I said, “But more likely a predator. I think there’s a chance because two are gone that they might be back,” I opened the barn door of hope.

    “It’s Apache. He’s so sweet,” Henry said sadly walking in the house. “Maybe they wandered over to Dave’s place?” Henry suggested.

    “Maybe, let’s hope,” I said trying not to show my deep sadness. We’d not lost any animals to predators in almost three years, but a new chapter might be beginning. I poured myself a cup of tea and called Tom. I knew he was attached to Apache too. I did not want to call Phoebe, but I knew I had to. Just in case this didn’t end well. She is particularly attached to him, so I called my sister and let her know what was going on.

    I went to bed and was woken up by Rattatttatttatrattattatrattatttat the sound metal being hammered jarred the dark early morning. I opened my eyes and jumped out of bed and excitedly went to the window.  He was back! I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was out there. Then I thought I was dreaming. Seeing what I wanted to see instead of what was really there. But no! Right in front of the barn facing the door as if they were willing the door to open were Apache and Sheryl, my two wayward sheep. I threw on Tom’s robe and ran to the barn almost scaring away Apache and Sheryl who were already skittery from their adventure. In minutes I had them tucked in the barn and snacking on some alfalfa pellets. I went back to bed after calling my farm phone chain of Tom, my sister and Awesomez to let them all know my charges were back. 

 (Nutsy - during the day - our resident Pilated woodpecker-why it took scientists so long to see a connection between birds and dinosaurs is beyond me.)

    Now I’m not mother of the year or anything, but I have a policy to try and sweep up the dirt, debris, dung and decapitated mice before any of  Henry's friends come over. I don’t usually begin housework before my first pot of coffee, but this morning I made an exception. After all, we both had someone coming over. Henry was expecting Kyle, to spend the night. And I had Mike who was in Bellingham to judge the History Day competition.

    We split up the chores, Henry opened the barn and dumped the trash and de-goose-pooped the walkway while I mopped the floors and tidied the inside of the house. I reminded Henry as he breezed through the kitchen with his ipod on that I wanted to take the gosling picture before Kyle arrived. Mike arrived and brought the sun with him. Until then it had been pretty grey and drizzly.

    I put on a pot of coffee so I had something to offer Kyle’s mother and was just about to throw a batch of cookies together when I realized Henry hadn’t cleaned his bathroom. I marched out the front door and called him to come inside.

    “ I’m just filling the baby pool for the geese! And the babies aren’t with them!” Henry yelled admist all the honking.

    “That’s odd,” I told Mike. “Why would they leave the babies? They wouldn’t". 

    “Well, two being gone is better than one I’d think,” he began considering scenarios as we headed outside. All of us thinking of looking for Colter last year and Alexis finding his little body.

    “If one were gone it could be an owl or an eagle or some other predator, but both? Very strange” I told Henry. “Let’s spread out”. I suggested as we all went our separate ways. Trying to listen for their peeping. Nothing.

    Henry and I thought we’d look over by the dog pen and the Kubota barn when I suddenly remembered “Henry just check over there, the old sunken bathtub’s over there maybe they’re in there. So Henry dutifully did as I asked.

“Mom! They’re in there!” Henry said his face contorted as tears began streaming down. “Why? Why? Why do I always find all the bodies? They're dead Mama!” He said burying his face in my shoulder as he cried.

    “Mike! I need you over here!” I yelled holding my sobbing boy and examining my own heart. Had I thought in the back of my head they might be dead and I sent Henry to do what I couldn’t? I didn’t think so, but the result was the same. Why hadn’t I just walked the few feet over there myself? I sent Henry inside to calm down have a glass of milk and wipe his face while Mike and I found a shovel to remove the bodies from the water. With heavy hearts we set to work.

    “You really think they drown?” Mike asked un-convinced. “I would think they could have gotten out. The thing is completely sunken,” he observed.

    “No, they couldn’t, the sides are slippery and there’s nowhere for them to rest. That’s why I put rocks in the baby pool. The other geese could have gone in and pushed them under I have no idea what happened but it must have been horrible. They must have desperately tried to get out. I feel so guilty. It was so preventable. I completely forgot about this old thing tucked back here. I just don’t come over here much. We’re really lucky this has been our first loss here. Luther or Bruno could have easily fallen in and that would have been a whole other level of pain.”  Mike just let me prattle on trying to cope with my role in their deaths. “I’m going to fill up this stupid thing with gravel as soon as I can.”

        “I think that’s an excellent idea,” Mike concurred.

        “You can’t Mama, not yet,” Henry had walked up behind us. “There’s a newt living in there and she’s laid a lot of eggs. You have to let them live,” he said sadly.

        When we walked back to the house we could see Kyle and both his parents approaching. I was glad Henry would have the distraction and I was glad we’d finished before they’d arrived. I don’t think Emily Post would approve of disposing of dead bodies while entertaining guests on their first visit. I smiled and shook their hands introducing them to Mike, whom I’m sure they thought I was dating. The father was friendly, well kept and polished. Actually, he looked like someone who might work for Arthur Anderson or Microsoft but for the fact he was clad in a pair of carmel Carhart™ overalls. I wondered if this was something he wore to come out to the county, a costume. The mom was warm and friendly. I invited them in for a cup of coffee, but they declined as their older son was going to the prom and they wanted to be home to take pictures. 

    Just as they were about to get in the car, she turned to me and asked "Did you ever find your sheep?"

    "You know, I did. They came home on their own," I said waving good-bye and remembering how grateful we should be. I'd almost forgotten.

 

 

March 9th Basket Case

 (baby on board)

    On sunny days, I let the geese out to roam around eat grass and enjoy the sunshine. They move as one unit, adults surrounding the babies like bodyguards. However, on the cold rainy Spring mornings, I confine them to barracks with their heat lamp because I don’t want the goslings to get too cold.

    I suppose I’m over protective, but I put rocks in the blue baby pools the geese use to take baths when they don’t want to walk all the way to the pond. The goslings haven’t gone in with them yet and although I’ve wanted to lift them in, and let them take a swim, I decided not to interfere. We’re not raising them so I don’t want them to do something they can’t do on their own. But when they do take their first swim I want them to have a place to rest and be able to get out. I’d been warned once when I first got my geese that the goslings can drown fairly easily. These words seem still, baby waterfowl drowning but nonetheless the warning rings in my ears.

 (Clara keeping her baby warm)
 

 (Aunt Mabel checks on the baby)
 

    Watching the goslings a couple of days ago, I realized if I wanted cute fluffy pictures of them I’d better do it soon. They grow like weeds. So I took one of Henry’s old Easter baskets from the garage, found some left over green Easter grass in the “Harry Potter room” underneath the stairs and dug up some wire ribbon I had stashed away.

    Carefully, I tried to copy the perfect bows I’d seen on display at Michael’s. Bows it seems are not my specialty. Mine looked straggly, but it would have to do. I walked outside with my camera over my shoulder into the warm sunshine set the basket on the grass and proceeded to the barn. Thinking ahead, I hadn’t let any of the animals out yet so I wouldn’t have to deal with pesky goats trying to eat the Easter grass. Or a curious turkey trying to see what was going on. I realized I was excited as I walked over. I hadn't gotten to spend much time with the babies and was really looking forward to holding and playing with the little fuzz balls.

    I opened the barn and was greeted by a cacophony of honking, quacking, maaaing, gobbling and crowing. 

    “I’m sorry everyone, but you’re going to have to wait just a bit longer,” I explained to the residents of the barn. “You see I’m going t take some pictures of the little ones and I know you all will just get in the way. I promise I’ll hurry,” I said.  As I opened the gate to the goose pen the honking increased tenfold. I went in and closed the gate behind me. The bedding needed to be changed. This is easy to determine by the amount of squishing you do as you walk. Nothing stinks quite like a ripe goose pen. I leaned over and tried to grab one of the babies who ran behind her mother. The entire gaggle got hysterical when they realized I was taking their babies. Calmly I explained to Lloyd and Clara I would indeed bring the goslings back safe and sound after their photo session in just a few minutes.

    Once in my arms they cuddled up close burrowing into my sweatshirt. The mama in me was happy. They were warm and snuggly and I could feel their breath against my neck as I walked back to the basket. Henry had wanted to take them away from Clara and raise them in his room so they would be tame like Lloyd, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get so invested in any of the babies again. We’d lost too many and it’s a lot of work to keep goslings in the house, but holding them now, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. They were so calm and sweet.

    My camera ready, I set them in the basket and snapped my first picture. In a flash they were out of the basket and running in circles around the tree. Naturally, I started to chase them, which put them into a complete frenzy. In and out of bushes, under the Kubota barn, behind the tractor one would go one way and the other would go another. Imagine the “Flight of the Bumble Bee” or clown music. Instinctively, they knew what they were doing. One would zig and the other zag. A few times I got so close I started worrying I would end up tromping them to death, so I backed off and let them rest. My blood was pumping, frantically I realized I'd almost killed them a couple of times. Now I didn't know what to do. They saw me as a predator and weren't going to let me near them.  Even trying to grab them they could get smashed or crushed. Henry goes on about how bendable they are "little Gumbies" he calls them. "Mom it's so they can survive, those big geese are always stepping on them," He reminded me all the time.

 (my one picture of the goslings in the basket)
 

    Now,they were tucked behind the dump trailer Tom had built and could easily get hurt on any number of farm things laying around. When you see life from a gosling's point of view it's more than a tad daunting.I had to think. I figured I had a couple of options, I could let the rest of the gaggle out and they would eventually collect them, or I could corner them. I decided to try to corner them, because I didn’t want to leave them alone even for a minute or two with so many owls and eagles around. I began herding them toward the barn, which after some time worked. To my relief, I scooped them up safe and sound and returned them to their mother just as I had promised.

    Disaster averted, but my nerves were shot. I definitely needed to come up with a better gosling wrangling strategy. I was smarter than goose or so I told myself. Perhaps I could get the puppy pen to confine them and I’d need an extra pair of hands. I’d get Henry to help on Saturday. Exhausted, I walked back to the house. I was ready for a drink and it wasn't even 10:00AM.

 

February 28th Cheaper By The Dozen

 (The Twin Sisters)

     Grateful it’s finally light by 6:30 AM, I sipped my hot coffee curled up on the sofa with a blanket and chatted on the phone with Toby about my cherry trees starting to blossom. She was outside fixing a fence board balancing the phone on her shoulder chattering about the warm Spring California sunshine, the possibility of buying a house and her desire to spend days on the beach in Mexico reading a book when I heard a goose honking. Strange I thought, as I hadn’t heard her in weeks. All the other geese were tucked safely in the barn. Clara’d been laying eggs left and right, but I took them all away from her. I’ve been including them in my farm variety egg pack- turkey, duck, chicken & goose I’ve been selling for only $2.00 a dozen. Lisa thinks I should raise my prices, but I'm new at this. The most consistent layers are the chickens, but the ducks lay a bigger egg and are fairly regular. Silence had been laying, but for some reason seemed to stop. We'd taken all but two of her eggs.  And the geese lay an egg everyone loves, but I guess they had a limited supply. I collect the eggs every day fill the recycled egg cartons and take them to the Cat Clinic in town where I sell them to the staff, since Lisa’s been working there pretty consistently. They give me more cartons and it pays for the All Purpose Poultry feed.

Clara had moved her nest all over the yard to thwart me. She started in the woodpile, went to the back fence and finally she wedged herself so far under the porch I couldn’t get at her.

“Last night, Henry and I left her some food and water in case she came out. And the weirdest thing, another goose stayed out with her”

             “Huh, I wonder why she did that?” Toby mused.

            “You’re the poultry girl, I was hoping you could tell me,” I countered. “Anyway, this is the first time I’ve heard her since she went under the porch I guess she came out for the water and food. Finally,” I said relieved. “I hate her being outside it makes me nervous, but at least she’s been close to the house where she’s safer.”

    I got off the phone, it was still early and cold so I did the dishes and began to mop the floor in the dining room when I heard honking again. I hadn’t gone out to let the rest of the geese out of the barn yet, so I threw on Tom’s red terry cloth robe over my green flannels and slid into a pair of fuzzy slippers. I dialed one of my new portable phone’s Tom bought me at Cost-co. They have such incredible range I can take them all the way to the barn, which is why he got them. The phone rang until Tom's voice-mail dinged. I began talking. I’m infamous for leaving long conversational messages. Tom gets annoyed because he forgets it’s a message and tries to interrupt me or talk back. So now you know why I’m a big believer in messages.

            “Hey, I heard Clara this morning. Henry and I left her some water by the porch last night and some food since she never comes out,” I rambled as I shuffled across the porch the cold morning biting my ankles. “Anyway, the strangest thing was that Mabel stayed outside with her last night. I’m looking under the porch right now and I don’t see them. And I’m relieved to see there aren’t any eggs. I figured there would be, but nope no eggs,” I said emphatically into the receiver I had clutched to my cheek.

            Just then, I heard the girls honking and turned, “Oh My Lord In Heaven!” I screamed. “There aren’t any eggs because there are goslings! Two fluffy goslings are standing by the garage with Clara and Mabel. I bet you Mabel stayed out because she knew!! I can’t believe it!!” I shrieked and hung-up.

 (Surprise! Surprise! Surprise! Two new baby goslings with Mama - Clara and Aunt Mabel)

 (Over the rope and under the tree)

 (Mama Clara and Aunt Mabel with the two newly hatched additions)
 

    For a moment I stood there in disbelief. Where did the eggshells go? Did they eat them? I turned and ran in the house. “Henry!!! Wake-up!! C’mon you won’t believe what I found!” I said as a groggy Henry lifted his sleepy head from the pillow squinting like a mole and fumbling for his glasses.

    “Is something dead?” He asked guardedly, knowing I hate dead things.

    “No, c’mon!” I demanded as I scurried down the stairs Tom’s floor-length red terrycloth robe flying behind me like a cape. I grabbed my Nikon with the red duct tape and was out the door. Once outside I slowed down and watched the little ones with their mama. Henry figuring something big was a foot was right behind me.

    “Babies! We have babies! Clara you have babies,” Henry cooed in the soft funny voice reserved for newborns.

 (Henry can't resist snuggling the baby)

 (I think they're both girls - Henry noted taking the sex-coloring of the bill into account)
 

 (by the porch with the gaggle and the water feeder)
 

    “It’s a good thing we put the water and food out last night or they wouldn’t have had anything,” I reflected. “Henry, I don’t want any of the dogs outside with the babies. Remember Vivian last year,” I reminded.

    “She didn’t mean to kill him,” Henry rationalized.

    “Rugby! You better go and tell Joe and Katie not to let Rugby out without a leash. He chased Franklin something fierce when he first came. I thought he was going to kill Frank, but he left him alone. Babies? He wouldn’t have to do much,” I warned, but Henry was already on the move.

    I went inside, but I could see Henry returning with Joe. I smiled at the sight. Joe looked less than ready to venture outside, hair tousled, wrapped in a robe, a cup of coffee in hand but he couldn’t resist the goslings. He leaned in with Henry and admired the babies and I knew this kid was one of us.

    “Mom?” Henry called to me.

    “Yeah? I said stepping out the front door onto the porch.

    “I’m going to take Joe up to see Silence’s eggs in the barn ok?” Henry half asked and half told me.

    “Sure, but be careful I don’t know how strong that structure is.” I mom-ed the both of them. I supposed I didn’t really have to warn a fireman, but what the heck.

    When he got back Henry took my hand and told me to sit down. “Mama, I’ve got something to tell you,” he said seriously.

    “Is something wrong with Silence?”

    “Apparently not,” he continued a smile sneaking into his eyes. “You know how we took all of her eggs, but two?”

    “Yes,” I answered slowly, the news beginning to dawn on me.

    “Well, Joe and I climbed up there and well, she has fourteen!”

    “Fourteen? Fourteen turkeys? I don’t want fourteen turkeys,” I said dazed.

    Later that day, Henry and I candled Silence’s eggs to see if there were turkeys actually in them. Maybe they weren’t even fertilized I thought. However, as I held them over the light, they looked so full we both figured there were definitely babies in them. And in fact they looked so packed we were fairly sure it was because they were so big they couldn’t move around in the egg anymore.

       “Henry, I think we should relocate her nest. If those babies are born and we’re not here they could fall off and I couldn’t take little turkey bodies all over.”

     “Oh Mama, but what if she won’t sit on it?” Henry worried.

    “Well, then they’ll die. I gotta tell you I can take that better than dead babies, you?” I asked.

    “No question,” he agreed. So the relocation procedure began. Henry went up and gathered the eggs lowering them down to me with a rope. 

    "Is she freaking out with you up there," I asked.

    "Nope. She's cooing. She isn't like the geese. She let me put my hand in and take her eggs. She looked concerned, but she seems to trust me."

     Next we made a nest. We tried to make it as close a replica of hers as possible. She’d made hers underneath the wheel of an overturned wheel barrel so we took another wheel barrel in to her pen just like she had it. Finally we carefully, put the eggs in the nest and Henry brought down Silence. She walked around a little and began to eat. She didn’t sit on the eggs.

 (Henry collects Silence's eggs)

 (Henry with the eggs - ready to lower)

 (Next stop - The nursery)
 
  (the turkey eggs in their new location)

 (Henry moves the mama- Silence Do-good)

 (Silence isn't ready to resume her duties)
 

    “She isn’t sitting,” Henry worried, “and I think I cracked one of the eggs,” he confessed, “when I was putting them in the container.”

    “Honey, you were careful, it was an accident. Anyway, what the heck are we going to do with that many turkeys? Giver her time. Let's leave her alone.”

 (a daffodil about to bloom)

    It was Spring. Yellow daffodils were popping out of the ground everywhere. The sun blazed and suddenly I had the urge to do yard work. The rest of the day the gosling waddled around the lawn with the gaggle munching on grass, sipping water and enjoying the sunny day. Henry, Joe, Katie and I raked the yard talking about this and that as we worked. Henry and Joe took a few breaks to throw knives at a target, taking the tractor to the pond for a little BB gun practice. After putting the Kubota away I saw Henry dart in and out of the barn. "She's sitting on them!" He cried happily.

And everything seemed possible. Again.

 (Silence's head is peeking out on the left as she sits on her eggs between the wheel barrel and the box - just the ways she likes it.)
 
 

January 8th Fowl Play

 (The birds do it - Turkeys are rather civilized as far as poultry go - chickens, geese and ducks are not exactly delicate with their mates- Silence on the other hand sits stoically- even dignified)

    Naturally, there is a lot of repetition to farm life. You open the barn in the morning, then make sure all the animals have food and water. Collect the eggs and when you can, you clean the pens. However, farm life is never dull.

    This morning I was filling the water trough, I noticed Franklin doing a little dance number.  He was sliding to the side and stomping and tapping around like some flamboyant flamenco dancer. I figured it must be a mating dance to impress Silence; only when I looked around I realized she was nowhere in sight.

    This must be the turkey trot I mused.  I'd  never thought the turkey trot a ragtime dance really came from a turkey, but then again I'd never given much thought to Smart Ass, Silly Goose or Raging Bull either. Now it was clear – this guy had moves, Senor Franklin had style. I went to grab my video camera to record this performance,

     It was raining just slightly so I put my coat on, my hood up and I crouched low to the ground like some National Geographic photographer and waited. Sure enough, Franklin began prancing around showing me his fan when Lloyd waddled up and began goosing Franklin. Grabbing a hold of his fluffy feathers behind his tail.

      “Lloyd stop! I’m trying to shoot Franklin,” I admonished. Lloyd who honked loudly in response and came over to me snuggling my arm, nibbling my jacket and then he boldly hopped up into my lap. He’d never really done this before so I was a bit surprised and flattered. He was getting cuddly again. I pet him and reassured him he was still my number one. Then gently set him down.

 Lloyd was not to be set aside and hopped into my lap again. Charmed, by my gallant suitor I pet him again, but this time when I went to set him down he flapped and fluttered and climbed up on my back trying to shove my head down with his bill. Instantly, I knew I was being a bit more than courted. Laughing, I tipped my back to the side and try as he might he couldn’t keep his balance. He went flapping to the ground.

     Tom emerged about this time from the house with his coffee in hand wondering what had been going on. “I’m trying to get Franklin’s dance on video, but Lloyd just got very amorous. Can you hold the camera?” I said as he took it. “I can’t seem to get a steady shot because of all his nuzzling.”

     “Well, from the looks of Franklin, he has the same idea,” Tom smirked aiming the camera at Franklin.

     I glanced over to see Franklin putting on quite a show for me. Circling, huffing and puffing up his chest. He started to do the turkey trot. It’s quite elaborate choreography, a combination Indian war dance BS moon-walking with some fan dancing thrown into his repertoire to make it really exotic.

     “Did you get that?” I asked hopefully as Franklin started circling me trying to jump up on my back. “Franklin, while that’s very flattering, I think Silence would be a bit more interested.”

     “Yeah, I got it, but I didn’t get any close-ups of his feet,” Tom apologized just as Alexander came up and rubbed against me bumping into me trying to get my attention.

     “Well hello there Alexander,” I said scratching him on his neck.

     “First, Lloyd, then Franklin, now Alexander –you’re hot today.” I punched him in the arm, knuckle out, but not too hard.

 (Alexander, Rachel, Christina and Riley)

 (I'm very popular - where ever I go - they go)
  

 (Luther needs to be carried, because Miracle has decided she hates him. I'm not sure why, but it is her mission to stomp him so he has to be held whenever she's near)
 

     “I’ve never been this popular. You know I asked seven guys to the prom. But now look, I guess I’m too sexy for my farm… too sexy for my farm…Ohmygosh! Look at the time! We’ve got to pack those two nasty roosters up to take them to that guy from Seattle,Tadesse Henok.”

     “You told him we’d meet him today?” Tom wondered.

     “Yeah, I want to get rid of them and he wants to eat them. I figured we can drive down toward him while the kids wait at gymnastics and then we can go to Sherlock Holmes for your birthday movie, sound good?”

     “Sounds good, I’ll get the dogs put away you get the roosters. I hope he brings a carrier – I know that other lady didn’t have one when she tried to get the geese.”

     “I told him. He said he’d have one.”

     As I walked toward the gate Tom held his arms behind him and his fingers up as if they were feathers and sashayed around me like Franklin all the while gobbling and puffing like a turkey until I screamed with laughter. "I guess this means we're still courting after all these years."

    "Well, you got that sumpin-sumpin"

 (The villains, Chester and Speedy)
 

 (Speedy Gonzales and Chester before we put them in the dog carrier)
 

     We packed up, and head out. We drove and drove and drove. Seriously, a total of 60 miles to give away free chickens. “I really can’t believe we’re doing this for chickens,” I thought outloud.

     “Really this is crazy. I hope this guy doesn’t back out.” The guy kept calling and apologizing, he was in traffic so we kept driving closer – all the way to Marysville in fact. There I bought Tom a birthday beer and we waited for the most polite man in Washington. “Thank you so much for waiting for me. God bless you for these chickens they will help feed my family,” he graciously thanked us. I sat in the car while Tom made the transfer from our car to his.

     “I’m sorry, I was looking for a box. I don’t have a box,” he apologized.

     “Oh take ours. It’s kind of old anyway. Right Denise,” Tom said waving to me. “Will you eat both of them or use them to breed other chickens?” Tom asked him.

     “They are so beautiful, but I will eat the brown and white one and breed the one with the beautiful tail,” he said. “Call me if you should have any others. I will gladly buy them from you. And God Bless you again,” Tadesse said emotionally.

     Tom climbed back in the car. “Nice guy.”

     “So much for he’d better have his own carrier.”

     “Yeah, well he said ‘God Bless You,” Tom smiled all vaclempt.

     We raced back to gymnastics, picked up Quinn, Nick and Henry bought tickets and settled in to watch my hero, Sherlock Holmes.

     Most of us loved the movie. Nick however, didn’t give it a chance. He curled up in the seat and promptly fell asleep. To Quinn’s disgust he didn’t turn off his cell phone and she had to wake him up when it rang during a chase scene.

     Afterward, we drove back recounting what we liked about this version of Sherlock and the new portrayal of Doctor Watson.

 When we got home, I went in the chicken coop to start putting them away for the night while Tom started in the barn. It was then that I was accosted from behind.

     “Heeeelpppp Peeeeeeeeaaaa” I screamed in fright.

     “What is it?” Tom came running from the barn and opened the door to see Chicken George on top of my head trying to fertilize my eggs.

     Tom stood there laughing at me. I must have looked ridiculous standing there with a full grown rooster perched on my head, “Wow! Now George, You are one hot farm mama."

    "I've got to say I feel a little shunned by Quackless"

     "Well, he's already got two women he's got to keep happy, but if I were you I’d stay away from the pasture.” 

 (after all the boys - have horns)
 
 

August 27th E-i-E-i-O

(barn swallow babies - leaving the nest, but not the barn)

A couple of weeks ago the phone rang, it was Awesomez.

    “You’re never going to guess what Nick said today.” 

    I took the bait. “What?”

    “He said he wants to live on the farm and go to school in Washington. He hates the school here and says he needs a change.”

    “Really? Is he sure? I mean do you really think he’ll go through with it?”

    “I asked him that and he seems sure. Let’s give it a couple of days and see, but I think he’s serious,” she said with a heavy heart. “Mammoth hasn’t been a happy place for him in a long time and I told you I saw a different kid when he was on the farm. I think he really likes the animals, especially Luther and Henry.”

    I told Henry, Nick was a possibility, but I also told him what a huge decision this was and that Nick could back out at the last minute. Henry said he understood, but he was joyful. I was worried he’d get his hopes up and be really disappointed when Nick changed his mind.

    The funny thing is, Nick didn’t change his mind. He arrived today anxious to start school. Awesomez came with him to get him registered and settled in. 

On the way to the airport Henry turned to me a bit teary and said “Mama, Nick coming here is a dream come true for me. I’ve always wanted to have a brother.”

“You have Craig and  Laura, but I know it’s different, they’re older and don’t live with you right?”

“Exactly, I love them, but they’re not kids.”

“It’s not going to be all easy you know”

    “I know. Nothing worthwhile is easy. Isn’t that what you always say?” He said with a grin. I really hate it when he quotes me.

(Nick and Henry make their way to the van)

    Their flight arrived at bustling Bellingham International about 2:00PM.  We stopped by the feed store to get some more food for the geese, chickens and turkeys. As I walked in I saw the “For Sale” board on the wall. Anyone can write an ad about something they want to sell on the white board as long as they date their ad, so I made a snap decision and picked up the green pen. “For sale rare, heritage..."

    “Mom! What are you selling? Rare, heritage what?”

    “…Cotton Patch Geese”

    “Who?” Henry demanded. “Not Lloyd, you wouldn’t.”

    “No. Quackmire, he’s charged Phoebe for the last time.”

    “Look Mama, look at the ad above yours, they’re selling Cayugas. You’ve always wanted a Cayuga! And they’re only $5.00!”

    Henry was right I had wanted a Cayuga. I’d researched Cayugas and just hadn’t pulled the trigger, but here they were right in front of me.

    “Come on Mom, Cayugas.” Before I knew what I was doing my fingers were dialing the number and a woman answered the phone.

    “Hello, I’m calling about your ad, do you still have the Cayugas?”

    “Yes, we do, they’re three left,” a woman said on the other end of the phone. “How many would you want?”

    “Well, I’m just listing a couple of my geese now. I wasn’t actually thinking about getting Cayugas today, but my son noticed your ad. How old are they?”

    “They’re two months old now,” she said slowly as though she was calculating their age.
    “So they’re about full grown then?” I asked.

    “Yes they are. Uh, what kind of geese do you have?”

    “Cotton Patch, they’re a rare heritage breed too,” I told her.

    “Really, well I really miss having geese,” she said wistfully.

    “Perhaps we could work a trade?” I suggested.

    “We might just be able to do that. Let me speak to my husband and I’ll call you back.”

    “Looking forward to hearing from you,” I said as I hung up. We bought two bags of Flockraiser™, stopped at the market and went home.

    We’d been home about ten minutes when the phone rang. “Hello?”

    “Hello, Denise, this is Laura and I spoke to my husband and we’d like to work out the trade. We’d like the geese,” she said.

    “Great, do you mind if I give you three? You see, I have a perfect male, Quackmire and he is attached to Ruthie, but she has a condition called Angel Wing and so she’s not really good for breeding so I’d be happy to give you LuAnn as well,” I babbled.

    “You know, I’d rather just have two, we’re really trying to downsize, but I don’t mind having Ruthie and her Angel Wing. We’ve taken rescue geese before so that’s just fine,” Laura said. “Can we do it now? This would be a good time to catch them and we’re so busy the next few days I don’t know when we’ll be able to do it.”

    Awesomez was less than thrilled and truth be known I didn’t blame her. She’d driven from Mammoth to Palm Springs so her father could see Nick before he left then caught a plane from Palm Springs to Bellingham, gone to the feed store, the market and was finally home when I informed her we were going to catch geese and go get a few Cayugas – almost all the way jn Bellingham, a mere thirty minutes or so – forty-five if Tom or Awesomez are driving.

    “Ducks? Really? Tonight? Do we have to?” She nearly whined.

    “They’re not just ducks, they’re Cayugas, rare, heritage black ducks with a beetle green sheen and she wants Quackmire. I’ll go by myself,” I said.

    “No, I’m coming, we’re all coming” she acquiesced. “I don’t want to be a downer I know you want them, I’m just tired.”

    “Heck ya” Nick chimed in.

    “Besides, Old McDonald had ducks” I reasoned.

    "Mama,first we got a horse, then another cow, today a kid and ducks," Henry pointed out.

    So we caught our feathered friends, put them in a dog carrier and headed off for Squalicum Lake Road. It was a nice street I’d not ventured down before. Large pieces of land all for sale it seemed. We quickly located the house and Laura let us in. They had a rabbit, ducks, chickens of all kinds and a peacock.

(Quackmire and Ruthie are in the carrier)

    The boys quickly disappeared into a tree followed by some dogs while Lisa and I chatted with Laura and her husband. They showed us around their coup and told me tips on the chickens for the winter. We met the ducks and saw Quackmire and Ruthie’s new pond. It was tough to leave Quackie but I was happy to see where he’d be living and know he was in such a nice place. I thought of Lisa and saw her looking at Nick who was laughing and running around. It was taking a lot of love to do what she was doing, helping her child find his place, and I didn't know if I would have it in me if the situations were reversed. I hope I would.

(due to the extreme heat they're pond has gone way down - in this picture you can only see a small portion, the other part is obscured on the left where it wraps around)

(Quackmire in his new coup)

(Quackmire peeks)

(Henry and Nick explore)

(Henry and Nick hold the new Cayuga ducklings)

(Henry likes the new ducks)

 

    Laura explained her last pair of geese had charged one of her kids knocked the child down, mounted the kid on the back and pinned her. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Quackmire’s never done anything like that.” I assured her.

    Laura continued and told us her grandson who is thirteen comes over and has no one to hang out with, so she wondered if Nick and Henry might like to come back sometime and meet him. Henry and Nick took one look at the tree house, trampoline and bonfire pit and agreed readily. 

    We were just about to go when Nick and Henry went in the chicken coup to look at the Frizzle and the peacock. Lisa and I were chatting with Laura and saying good-bye to Quackmire when we heard the screams followed by two boys charging out of the chicken coup. It seems the peacock had taken exception to being held and flown over Nick’s head scaring the living horse manure out of them.

(Henry and Nick try to take home a stow-away)

    On the way home we couldn’t stop laughing about the looks on their faces. 

    “Do you think she’s going to like Quackmire? He’s difficult compared to her ducks.” Henry asked.

    “Oh my gosh, didn’t you guys hear about Laura’s other geese?” Awesomez asked laughing.

    “No what?” Henry asked. “We were playing in the tree.”

    “Her geese attacked her kid and mounted her!! You guys are weak. Quackmire never committed assault and battery. You can’t even take a little goosing” Awesomez taunted.

“True in the goose world, that’s a felony, Quackmire’s only gone as far as a misdemeanor.”
    

(On the way home)

   

July 1st The Care Package

(Pumpkin bread wrapped and ready to go)

My Dearest little Hankie Pankie,   

    It’s about 11:30PM and I am sitting in the kitchen still in my coveralls. My eyes are heavy and I’m grimy from working all day. I can hear Irish tearing apart and unstuffing his porch cushion. He’s wound up and bored, because you’re not here. Emmett is watching Irish’s antics from a safe distance on the stairs. Rat-Bat and Vivi have gone to bed while Luther and Deli are snoring nearby. Gosh by the time you get this, you’ll have been gone almost two and a half weeks.

    I hope this package arrives safely. I’ve been keeping an eye on all the dogs all night so they wouldn’t get the pumpkin bread I baked for you. Irish kept sniffing the box, but I won’t continue to be outsmarted by a pack of dogs. Learning from the recent Father's Day Landjaeger debacle, I put it up in the cupboard where we keep the crackers.

    – I don’t remember if I told you, but you remember the wooden rosary you put around Irish's neck because he’s a sinner? Well, he ate the cross. So much for being named after Notre Dame.

(Irish after he chewed off his cross)

    Hmm, what else is happening around these parts? Well, Quinn’s been sick since she got back from California. Lisa said she’s just lying around all day whimpering. Her ffever before Advil™ was a 104.

    As you know, Alexis moved out. All seems well with him and I know you will see him often as as he isn’t moving far away. He’s actually going to be very near the Everybody’s Store on a piece of land called “River Run Farm”. It’s a kind of a commune without the religion. It seems there’s a 100-year land trust and a bunch of people share 80 acres, but don’t own it. They have a community garden, which requires a daily commitment from all the community members. If you move there, you can build a house, and you own your own house, but you don’t own the land it sits on. In order to move there Alexis had to talk to all the people and be voted in. I think it’ll be an interesting experience.

(Alexis surveying the bridge progress)

(getting the bridge ready to work on)

    Amy went up to see her boyfriend, Andrew and his son, Max, in Vancouver for Canada Day. She took Max a couple of new pets she found in the yard., Spot and Cuddles, seven-inch Banana slugs. Seriously, Amy is a whacked as we are. She feeds Cuddles and Spot the glidies leftovers. Amy wanted to stay a couple of nights at Andrew’s so I’m feeding the bunnies and the glidies. I don’t mind cutting up their pears, apples or sweet potatoes, but I really don’t like feeding live prey. They’re only crickets, but I feel badly for them as I shake them out of the little cricket tube. It’s not quite as bad as feeding the mealworms to your old turtle, Leo, but it’s close.

(Cuddles)

    Of course, with you gone, I’ve been working a lot selling cheese, pumping gas, filling propane tanks, making sandwiches and weeding the strawberries at the store. A lot of unique people work there, take Ben for instance. He’s worked picking grapes at the Mount Baker Vineyard; he’s made mohair socks straight from the wool he sheered from his goats. He raises calves and butchers them to sell the meat. And as if that wasn’t enough he makes cheese, has over 300 blueberry bushes and plays the banjo. Ben just played at the Strawberry Social. He’s funny really. He told me he’s “pissed off all the time. Everything pisses me off. So I got one of those goat bells and I put in my barn. It’s just the right height so when I go in and out of the barn in the morning when I milk the goats I hit it with my shoulder. And it reminds me ‘Ben settle down” He makes me laugh.

(Ben - with a weird light on him - sorry)

    I’ve been so tired, I’ve barely gotten anything done around here. I had so many lofty goals when you left, and I’m afraid I’m falling short. Today, I worked on cleaning the garage. I found, the marbles Daddy got you at Williamsburg, some books on tape I thought we’d lost forever (we can listen to them when school starts) and a bunch of your naked baby pictures. It was a three ring circus what with the geese curious about what I was doing, Christina and Rachel trying to eat the Christmas garland and having to battle Miracle for my Diet Coke. You know, ever since she had those Doritos she’s been completely out of hand.

(The geese helping with the garage)

(garage a bit tidier)

    Oh, the chicks and poults are finally coming tomorrow. The post office guy is supposed to call me when they arrive. We suspect it should be something like 6:00 AM. I’m going to put them in the laundry room for a couple of weeks before moving them out to the coop. I’m a little disappointed. I ordered Narragansett turkeys and Dominique chickens – then the other two breeds were filler to make the minimum 25. Unfortunately, I didn’t get either the Narragansetts or the Dominiques. I’m really disappointed. Is it silly to cry over chickens? I haven’t but I feel like it. I just wanted them for so long and now, I won’t get them. I can’t order another 25 and I can’t afford more if I could. Oh well, I’ll probably love them just like I love Rat-Bat. At least I hope I will.

(finishing stapling the wire on the chicken coop)
(Rachel - such a silly goat)

(Luther sitting pretty- safe from a goose or donkey attack)

    I let Abe, Andy and Anna out to run and play today. They seemed hungry and the grass was low in the pasture so I let them out. For a long time I didn’t hear Andy’s bell and I was worried they’d gone way up the mountain, but then for no known reason they suddenly came running across the pasture –  in the gate and over to their water. They sat down in the barn and didn’t leave the pasture again even though I left the gate open all day. Weird cows.

    Miracle let me actually put my leg over her today and sit on her back. I got a little nervous when she started walking around so I got off, but I think I’ll try again a bit tomorrow and see what she thinks.

    I hope you’re having a wonderful time and learning a lot of gymnastics. Make friends my sweetie, bee good and get some email addresses so you can keep in touch.

    I miss you more than Grandpa Horn loves butter. But don‘t worry, I’m not pining away, but I do miss your silly laugh, your dumb jokes, your smart-alec ways and your snuggly kisses.

    love,

        Mama

p.s. I don’t miss your stinky feet.

June 18th A Little Bird Told Me

   

    A thick grey covered the valley, water dripping without any rhythm, like a blanket hanging from a clothesline. It was a dreary morning. I pulled up to the driveway and hopped out, as is now my custom, to open the gate when a small movement in the grass caught my eye. It was a baby bird struggling, soaked. I looked around and saw the parents nearby. Robins.

(All wet - a little robin)

(a mother or a father flies close by)

    I was worried the little fellow didn’t seem to be able to fly, but I hesitate to intervene after all it’s not nice to fool Mother Nature.

    Thinking a moment I walked over to the garbage and pulled out one of Amy’s moving boxes.  I ripped one side off creating a shelter for the little one. I thought he’d at least be able to dry his feathers and rest without worrying about being prey. I thought about calling the Wildlife rescue, but I knew what they’d say: “Do you see the parents? Oh well then leave the bird alone” so I did. I briefly thought of calling Amy, after all she'd worked at the zoo, but I thought she'd think the same thing.

(makeshift shelter)

  (moving on)

(Robin family)

(Robby trying to fly)

    Instead, I watched out the window like a nervous mother. The baby dried off and hopped up the hill to the house, then stopped. Completely exhausted. The mother and father were coaching and encouraging dive-bombing anything near it, but the little thing couldn’t go on. I decided to help again. Taking the box I went over and covered Robby up so he could rest once more. The mom came over and he opened his mouth oh so wide and she fed him.

(Daddy robin guarding Robby)

    “He’s going to be all right I thought, but then the geese came toward him. I saw them from his point of view and suddenly they looked menacing. Quickly, I opened the door ran onto the porch not taking the time to open the gate I flung myself over the railing much to Irish's surprise.

    I shooed the geese away and down the hill only to attract Miracle. I felt like a mother who came home from the hospital and suddenly noticed all the electrical outlets.  Luring Miracle to another area of the yard I took a large stick and imitating Little Bo Peep I herded my gaggle of robin mongers into the backyard where they couldn’t accost a terrified Robby.

(like vultures they descended)

(you'd never know they're herbivores from the looks of them)

(Miracle gives chase - one of her favorite games - although she never hurts anyone- Linda, one of Lloyd's daughters is in the rear)

    I tried to fill out the insurance forms I was supposed to complete, but I could barely concentrate. I kept going back and forth to the window checking to see what was going on. I called Lisa asking her if she thought I should take him in. “Nahh, if the parents are there he’ll be OK” she assured me. “If he’s there in several hours then maybe” she left the door open. My friend Rowan assured me robins spend several days on the ground and she herself had made the mistake of putting them back up in their nests when in fact, they needed to be on the ground to learn to fly. I still felt unsure, but I had to go with the collective wisdom.

    Amy came over with her mother to sign her lease. She needed it as proof of her residence so she could go get her Washington driver’s license. We chatted about my printer. “I have no idea why it says it doesn’t “recognize” my ink cartridges, but it won’t print.” I complained.

    “Well, we’ll make a copy when we’re in town.”

    “Oh you missed the events of the morning.” I said.

    “What happened?” Amy asked intrigued

    “There was a baby bird, a robin, I used one of your boxes as a shelter.”

    “Oh we wondered why the box was up on the lawn.” Amy said. “I thought the wind blew it.”

    “I saw him hop over with his parents by the shop near the fence. I think Robby’s going to be ok,” I said happily as they left.

    I went to the window and didn’t see Robby as I saw them pull out. Relieved he’d gotten to safety, I could finally concentrate on my insurance forms and get some of the lines filled out. I glanced at the clock and realized I had to go get Henry. Pulling up to the gate, I got out to open it, as is my custom, and noticed something in the road. Fear gripped my heart, as I knew, what it was. I walked closer. It was Robby crushed and lifeless. Amy had unwittingly run him over.

    Teary eyed I got in the car and started sobbing. Why didn’t I just put him in the box I berated myself. He’d be ok right now. I thought of how very hard he’d struggled to live, never giving up. I thought of his parents trying to help him. I felt I let him down. I know I can’t save them all but I have to try. It’s my nature.

May 11th Birds Of A Feather

   

    We were late. I didn’t have time to brew a pot of coffee, but thankfully poured myself the last cup of yesterday’s Deadman’s Reach barked a few reminders at Henry and went upstairs to throw some clothes on.

    The seat was up on the toilet annoyed I couldn't seem to train Henry, I put it down and set my coffee on top of it. Digging through the pile of clothes on the floor I found a sweatshirt and my pair of work jeans. Wriggling into them I gathered my hair in a ponytail, brushed my teeth and went to sit down to put my socks on. As I sat, I felt the hot coffee flood my backside as the cup tipped over spreading all over the floor. Mourning the loss of my coffee I changed into my coveralls and stomped downstairs. Wisely, Henry took one look at me and silently gathered his things. We were out the door with four dogs in tow.

(Bruno - a little nervous?)

    Lisa was finally removing Bruno’s equipment this morning and the other dogs were along for the ride. We saw a small rafter of Black Spanish turkeys along Mt. Baker Highway. The very same variety the big hoo-haa town meeting had been about in Acme. The letter I received after the meeting had said it was decided there would be no wild turkeys released in Whatcom County. Was that was overturned?  Or had the birds not been informed of the decision and migrated on their own? Or had some renegade hunter taken matters into his own hands? Whatever, there they were about four or five big as life walking along the highway.

    As we drove a long considering the turkey options I was grumpy from my coffee mishap. Henry was properly sympathetic when he heard which helped. We chatted about the Canada goslings. “I’m going to call about what to do with them when I get home.”

    “But I want to keep them.” Henry whined.

    “Tough. I know they’re cute, but all the babies are cute. And this brings me to another topic. Do you think you can handle eating a chicken if we raise some? I mean we won’t name them, but I can’t get a bunch of chickens and have six roosters running around. They’ll fight and who knows what.”

    “I think I can now after everything with the geese.  Can we name some of them?” He asked hopefully wanting to use a whole bunch of names from the Illiad.

    “After we get to know them maybe. It’s just that raising animals that will help sustain us seems to be the way we’re going. I’m as shocked as you are at the idea of eating something we raise, but chickens mean eggs and if we decide we can eat them, meat. I’ve resisted chickens. You know I’m afraid of them, but Toby swears it’ll be ok and my friend Cynthia Lynn says there’s a chicken a woman raised like a dog. I do dogs quite well, so I think your dad and I have decided to give chickens a try.”

    “I don’t want to eat Andy.” Henry proclaimed.

    “We’re not eating Andy. We’re not eating anything we name. I’m not Maryruth yet.” I replied wondering why I hadn’t heard from her in a while.

(the way they were)

    I dropped off Henry and Bruno and headed home to deal with my wayward goslings. I was shocked to find only one where I’d left two. Alexis had obviously fed all the barn animals. Had one not made it through the night? I called him on his cell phone.

    “No there were two snuggled up together about a half-hour ago. Look again.”

    I searched the room, I searched the barn and then widened my circle to include the yard. I inched my way around tall grass and listened for peeping. Nothing. Lisa called with a Bruno update. “Keep looking. Maybe it went back to the pasture.” She suggested.

(my lure)

    I kept looking. I let the geese out to roam around thinking the little fella would come to the gaggle. Alexis came home and while I brewed a pot of coffee and called the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center, he diligently took up the search. I could see him tromping all over scanning every inch of the yard as Lloyd and his crew trailed behind. We couldn’t help thinking of Colt. 

(waiting in Mike's old room)

(safe and sound)

        Lisa called again. "The patient is out of surgery and awake."

    "You didn't Chocolate Chip him"  a reference to our bunny, Chocolate Chip, who didn't make it through surgery - due to no fault of Lisa's. 

    "NO I didn't Chocolate Chip him. He's fine. Any luck?" She asked.

    "Nope."

    "Well, it is a migratory bird, with hardy genes. They're strong and if anyone has a good sense of direction it’s going to be a migratory bird." She reasoned.

     I waited until the afternoon then packed up our little friend to go to the center. Just as I was driving out of the driveway, I could hear Canada geese honking. I looked around, but didn’t see them. Perhaps our little adventurer had found the mama.  Yes, I think or choose to think that’s what happened. I want to believe that’s what happened. After all, we didn’t find a body. It wasn’t cold. The sun was shining and our yard is pretty safe all fenced in now. Not completely safe, but with Alexis and I in the yard most of the day a predator isn’t going to go out of its way to hunt here.

(Ready to ride)

(at Nugents' Corner)

    I drove to the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. It was surprisingly close by In fact, I could see Dodsons' IGA from the parking lot. There was an owl flying in an enclosure as I walked up and pictures of rescued animals covered a presentation board when I walked in. I pictured myself bottle feeding a raccoon. "Do you happen to need volunteers?" I inquired after filling out the paperwork.

    "Always" smiling Stacy said as she looked up the diet of Canada geese. We'd had a discrepancy. She thought they ate blood worms and I maintained they were herbivores.

    I picked up the Pheeb from a friend's house and told her about the day. "Do you think we could take one of the animals home for a night?" She asked wide-eyed.

    "I don't think so, but you never know." I answered smiling at her enthusiasm. We waited for Henry and Phoebe told him the days events.

    "Do you think we could take one of the animals home? Like a racoon? We could name him Oliver." He asked. We were all cut from the same cloth.

May 10th Are You My Mama?

(leader of the band)     

    At 5:30 A.M.I heard a deafening racket outside my window. It was as if some gang of marauding teenagers had pulled up and cranked their stereo. It was the crooning of every flipping ding-dang songbird in the forest greeting the dawn. I pried my eyes open realizing sleep would not return with battle of the bands outside my window. I perked up as I remembered Alexis’ Mother’s Day gift. The bag of Deadman’s Reach was downstairs waiting to be ground into an aromatic elixir sure to revive me. As I poured my first medicinal cup Henry bestowed on me a compass drawing he did in school and then I received a pastel pink and yellow heart on printer paper only slightly crumpled on one side like it had been stuffed in a sixth-grade's notebook. I gazed upon the drawing "Happy Mother's Day, I love you" was scrolled in tidy penmanship. It was full of emotion and care save the crumpled part. But then out came the piece de resistance a card with a fold and a saying. It wasn’t full of scribbles or too much erasing. It didn't have creases, rips or tears. I welled up. He’d listened. My son, a husband in training.

(My card- lettering learned from Miss Elberfeld (4th grade) - yellow is my favorite color)

(sweet)

    Dressed and ready for the day I met Alexis outside. He’d already fired up the tractor and true to his word was scraping the mat of weeds off with the sharp edge of the bucket. It was a bright sunshiny day and now that the fence was finished my four-legged lawnmowers, the goats, sheep and Miracle were out chomping the lawn. This is the way I dreamed it would be:  goats meandering by like they stepped out of “Heidi” taking nibbles of pine while the sheep drifted by the purple Agapanthus like strange clouds, the geese chatted by the barn while Miracle kept watchful eye on everyone as I sipped my coffee.

(Alexis clearing the land)

    After Alexis went off to work, my sister called and said she, Chris and the kids were going to head out for the afternoon. All the better to garden I thought.

    Before Team Donaldson arrived, Henry and I started to work. “Mama. I just want to let you know, I almost put you were more special than Awesomez on the card, but I erased it. I just couldn’t say it. I mean I love you and you’re my Mama, but well you understand, she is Awesomez.” Henry explained tap dancing as fast as he could.

    “I understand, I love her too.” I assured him."Now hush up and pull the Rhododendron the whole plant is poisonous to the goats."

    I’d let the cows out of the pasture again. This time I felt confident because we’d installed two gates. One gate blocks the barn animals from going into the road and the other gate keeps them from going down toward the pond. This in turn will keep Abe, Anna and Andy down munching on grass in what was our old cornfield. Or so I thought, until I looked up and saw Andy giving me the eye as we worked in the garden and before I knew it he'd found the one weak spot in the fence and charged through it. He wasn’t exactly a raging bull, but he got the job done. Suddenly Abe and Anna were in hot pursuit. Miracle was stunned at the sight of these new ruminants. I worried she might be like Quinn who does not like to be in the company of someone older and taller than her. “A person can be older or taller, but not both. Actually, I like to be older and taller if possible,” Quinn says whenever anyone will listen. If Miracle was like Quinn we might have a barnyard brawl. Would she attack or would the cows chase the goats like true “bullies”? I stood ready to react, but it was as calm as a nativity.

(Deciding the best place to be is on the other side of any fence)

(mowing my lawn)

(everybody eats)

(happy cows)

    We set back to work hoeing and taking tractor loads of debris away. We were hard at work when the Donaldsons pulled up. After some quick hugs and hellos we decided to break for lunch. In the kitchen Quinn asked “So what did Henry give you for Mother’s Day?”

    “He cleaned my room.” I said proudly.

    “Girl clean? Or boy clean?” Phoebe inquired.

    “Girl clean.” I assured her. “He vacuumed, put stuff away and I got a card too, plus a neck warmer-thingy.”

    “Girl clean? That’s good Henry.” Phoebe praised.

(Phoebe and Henry climb trees for entertainment)

(monkey-boy)

(Lunch is served in the tree as requested)

(Miracle with her fly mask on relaxing)

(working girls)

    After sandwiches we jumped back on the project. Phoebe and I manned the tractor bringing in loads from the compost pile.

    “This is some goooood shit.” I exclaimed as I savored the aroma, digging out a nice big load.

    “Really” she confirmed as we examined the sample teeming with earthworms.Lisa and Chris were hard at work mixing up the amendments and leveling the ground while Henry insisted on throwing knives at a tree and Quinn read a book.

    “Do we have to keep the garden gate closed all the time?” Lisa yelled over the tractor.

    “Actually yes, it seems the sheep like blueberries.” I yelled back.

    “Hey! Stop!” Lisa giggled. I turned back to see what she was talking about. “It’s nothing," she waved, "I just never had a sheep nibble my ankle before.” Apache was giving her kisses.

    Phoebe, Lisa, Chris and I got the garden to a point where we were ready to put in rows when we noticed there were no bells.

    “No bells that can only mean one thing.” I said wondering how they could have gotten out. “Do you think they knocked down the fence?” I asked. “I mean I know that’s not what you’d expect from a cow, but how else?” I asked half to myself as we began to walk the fence line with Anna who was also wondering where those good for nothing steers went off to leaving her behind.

    “I hear them.” I said listening to the faint clinking of cowbells. Turning my head toward the sound. I saw them in my only neighbor’s yard they’d hopped the fence.

    “Who wants a cookie?” Lisa yelled in a high-pitched voice. "Who wants a cookie?" She repeated. In only a couple of times, the boys were running not walking back, and over the fence they went.

    “It surprises me every time how nimble they are.” I reflected.  “But you know “ I said imitating my father, “there was that one f----- who went over the moon.” Lisa laughed. It was still funny.

    We came back to find Quinn in the garden. She’d finished her book and was wondering if they could still make it to the bookstore tonight. As she stood around not helping she began standing on one of the garden stakes. Balancing on one foot she said, “If this was a little wider this would be like Survivor.” 

    “Hey let me try.” Chris said as he climbed up on the stick. “One-one-thousand-two-one-thousand. . .” the girls chanted in unison until Chris dramatically fell off.

(Chris doesn't survive)

    “You two are the slowest counters I’ve ever heard.” He complained.

    “I did it longer.” Quinn said all smiles.

    “Let me try.” Phoebe insisted and then naturally, Lisa and I had to have a turn. We were now counting and competing for the best time.

    “This is fun.” Phoebe laughed, “Farm fun.”

    “Hey Quinn, you could do this at your birthday party.” Lisa laughed. "You young'ens would have a lot of fun." she hillbillied.

    “Great. My friends will say, gosh that party was fun. Quinn had us stand on a stick. No. They wouldn’t get it, but just so you know I think I've won with the best time.”

    “No. I did.” I corrected.

    “No. I did.” She said incorrectly. Being younger, I let her believe she was right poor thing, but as the winner I knew. I knew I had the better time she just couldn’t handle it.

    With all our falderal we got the stakes up and the string, but it was time to call it quits. Henry and Phoebe wanted one last knife throwing demonstration over by their tree. Most of us went to watch, but Quinn disappeared until she came out the front door. “Denise? Who’s this?” Quinn asked holding up a gosling. I gasped.

    “I don’t know! We’ve never met!” I was stunned. “Quinn where did you get that?” I asked completely confused. That was not one of Clara’s it was yellow and downy. I looked at it again. Its bill was black just like it’s feet. Clearly this was a Canada gosling. 

(in search of a Mother)

    “I found it walking across the lawn. I heard it peep and looked up and there it was, so I picked it up before the dogs saw it. Then Bruno took off like a shot for the fence down by the pasture. Maybe there are more.” So Quinn holding on to her charge showed us where Bruno had gone and we formed a search party. Looking and listening for peeping. I went and got Mabel to see if her honks would flesh anyone out of the tall grass. Just as we were all about to give up, Quinn found another one in a most remote area. We looked for the mother. The two goslings had been quite a distance away, and no one could locate a possible nest. I’d seen Canada geese in the pasture, but not hanging around the creek nor did I have any idea where the nest could be.

    “This is so weird, they need to find a mother on Mother’s Day.” Henry remarked. “Hey Quinn does this make them your babies? You’re the goose girl.” Quinn smiled wryly as she wiped goose poop out of the nest in her sweatshirt.

(twice the fun on Mother's Day)

    “It’s OK they’re just babies.” She replied cheerfully as we went to the barn and decided to try Mabel with the goslings.

    “She sat on her eggs for a good long time, maybe she’ll think they’d hatched while she was out. “ I suggested.

    “That’s some while you were out.” Phoebe laughed. Lisa took the goslings and rubbed her scent on them while she wasn’t looking. Mabel wanted nothing to do with them, so we tried Ruthie. She wouldn’t take them under her wing either. Next, we tried Clara, the proven mother, but she was too consumed with worry over her goslings that she didn’t relax.

    So we tried another tactic. We got Quackmire involved, after all, he’d been an excellent guardian to Clara’s hatch. Then we tried Ruthie again. No good, she just acted like she wanted to get away from Quackie. So we brought Mabel back in. Perhaps they’d be OK if the two of them were in there like Lloyd and Clara. I put the incubation light a safe distance away from the straw. We didn’t really need the adults to care for them as long as they protected them from any nocturnal predators like barn rats.

(Foster Family)

    “What do you want to name them?” Henry asked about 43 times.

    “I don’t know, some kind of outcast name like the elf who wants to be a dentist. What was his name?” Quinn mused.

    “I don’t remember.” Henry answered. “How about Romulus and Remus? Or Oenone, the wood-nymph?”

    “Uhhh no.” Quinn responded authoritatively.

    “Look we can’t keep them. They’re migratory birds they need to learn to fly.” Lisa said.

    “They do? Won’t they just know?” Quinn was confused.

    “Didn’t you watch ‘Fly Away Home about 35 times?” Lisa asked incredulously

    “Henry, the guy who shot ‘Fly Away Home’ Caleb, is the dad of Zooey Deschanel the girl in ‘Yes Man’. Anyway, I think the goslings are ok for the night. I’ll keep checking on them, but in the morning I’m calling the Wildlife Refuge.” I announced as we shut the barn door.

    “Mama, you relax, I’ll make dinner.” Henry said losing interest in the idea before he got to the kitchen. The phone rang as I got out the steamer. It was Awesomez’ daughter, little Lindsey, “Rizzo,I want to make my mom dinner, but I don’t know what to make. I need help.” she bleated.

    “Whatdya got?” I said pulling out my ingredients.

  (Henry and his buddy, Irish, have forgotten about making dinner)

May 7th Lost

   (Mares resting)

     When I got home from taking Henry to school I started looking into sheep shearers. This time I wanted to get a recommendation. The last time I'd had the sheep sheared there was too much blood, severed skin second cuts of wool so the fleece wasn’t really worth selling. I started by calling Laurel Farm Supply.

    Alexis who was about to leave for work said “It’s raining, and the geese aren’t using the little structure in the garden for shelter.”

    “Well, I wanted to put the garden in on Sunday so they’re not going to be able to be in there much longer anyway. They’re pretty big, if we open the gate they can go into the barn for shelter.” Alexis agreed and opened the gate before he left for work.

    There are decisions you make, moments you wish you could take back. This was one of them.

    It rained a spring rain off and on, so I spent the day inside sorting papers and going through tools, costumes and a bunch of junk. I thought I made pretty good progress and was pretty pleased with myself.

(Irish trying to fit in Luther's bed)

I wanted to move one of my dad's desks from the shop to MaryRuth’s room so I went to go and size it up. When I came out of the shop the geese surrounded me. I was surprised to realize in that moment that some of them were the babies. When they were all together the babies were starting to look like geese. I realized I hadn’t cuddled them or handled them like I’d done the year before.

(the skies cleared and the sun shone)

    Afterward, I did a quick out-and-back to town to get Henry who'd spent the afternoon with Lisa. Henry and I were just about home deeply engrossed in "Zorro" when we saw the bright white feathers of Lloyd, Quackmire and Lord knows who else going down the path toward Mosquito Lake. They were about to take the same path the cows had taken the other day. Alexis got home from work just as Henry got out of the car, picked up Lloyd and started walking toward home. The gaggle followed obediently until Henry got to the front porch.

    I figured they wanted to go to the pond but had been stopped by the new gate and fence so they were looking elsewhere. I went in the house to make a call. When I came out I could see Alexis coming down Mosquito Lake Road on foot. “Where are you coming from? What are you doing?” I asked surprised to see him trolling the high grass.

    “I’m looking for Colt.” He said with a worried look. Colt! I hadn’t thought he wasn’t with the gaggle, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t been with them when they were going down the path. I thought back, he hadn’t been with them when I’d gone to the shop. How had I missed that?

    We started looking on all the paths, in the high grass and on the way to the pond. Henry thought there was a chance the geese had gotten through to the pond. “I know it’s windy as %$#!” he said “but they might have gone the circuitous route if they wanted to go to the pond badly enough”. So we walked crooked path to the pond. We searched for tracks, we searched the creek, the creek sides, the weeds and anywhere else. We listened. Hoping to hear a tired Colt sitting in the grass peeping waiting for Alexis to pick him up. We saw deer.

    When we got back Alexis waved from underneath some trees. He had a shovel in his hand and was standing in the graveyard.

(Lloyd, Quackmire and Cleveland gather around Alexis)

    “Did you find him?” I called. He nodded unable to get the words out.

    “Is he dead?” Henry asked.

    “Yeah. He was cold when I fond him rigor had set in. He was over by the Kubota™ barn where Clara laid her first nest. There was a piece of grass wrapped around his bill and he was sort of tangled in the grass.”

    “What do you think happened?” I asked wishing I’d come out during the day. Wishing I’d kept them in the garden. Wondering if he just wasn’t strong enough to survive after all or if I neglected him. I’d thought he was big enough to follow them  all around now.

    “I don’t know, but it wasn’t a predator. Maybe he panicked, got cold?” Alexis surmised tears filling his eyes as he silently shoveled, the body already wrapped in one of his shirts.

    “Maybe he just wasn’t supposed to live.” Henry interjected. “Now he’s in a place where he isn’t the smallest one trying to keep up anymore.”

    “Can you get a rock for the grave?” Alexis asked. Henry did as he was told scouring the hillside.

    “Is this good? Is this for a marker?” He asked.

    “We need two. One to put on top of the body so nothing digs it up and another as a marker. This one’s a beauty it should be the marker. Can you get another one?” Alexis asked.

(Alexis buries his precious little Colt)

    “Can I see him?” Henry said unwrapping the body and peering in at Colt making it real I suppose. He quickly wrapped the shirt back up before Alexis put the precious package into the grave.

    “Is that one Clyde?” Henry asked looking at one of the other stones?”

    “Yes and that’s the little girl.” We’d lost half, but then again half had survived.

    “I can’t cry,” Henry said, “not every time.” 

(Clara on the right and her girls)

May 3rd Sounds of Silence

    (A blooming Bleeding Heart)

     Lloyd and Clara’s hatch of goslings is a month old now. Their downy feathers are beginning to turn into real ones giving them a funny patchwork sort of appearance. A month is long enough for an egg to be laid and hatch. I knew in my heart what needed to be done.

    I’d been avoiding listening to Mabel and Ruthie’s eggs. I’d heard movement and clicking in the hatch before I’d gone to the reunion, but still there weren’t any goslings. I feared they were all dead. So with a heavy heart I walked out to the barn grabbed Ruthie and took her outside. Usually, when I’m checking the eggs I let her stay on her nest, it’s where she wants to be, but I needed real quiet where I could hear a faint tapping of life. There was none. The eggs were warm yet silent as the grave.

    Why had they died? Henry supposed it was the oyster shells we’d given them to eat. He thought perhaps the goslings couldn’t get out of the hardened shell and suffocated. Toby thought there was probably some sort of birth defect and it was nature’s way of taking care of the problem. I don’t know I just couldn’t bear to throw the eggs away quite yet. What if I’m wrong? I have no desire to play God. I thought I’d ask Tom Walker after all he’s the expert.

(wannabe mamas)

    Ruthie and Mabel have been sitting on that nest for so long and yet no babies. I tried to remember not to humanize them too much. Yet, it’s hard they’re desire to reproduce is strong it’s kept them from eating and drinking from enjoying the barnyard. They wanted to be mothers, and who better to be an octomom than a silly old goose?

--

April 19th A Small Step

  (Miracle can't believe it - boys working) 

(boys working - Justin and Henry)

    After helping us with the fence, Henry and Justin had the audacity to want to go to the pond in what I consider freezing weather. It's true the sun was shining, but there was a bite in the air as the sun started to slip behind the mountains. I'm not eleven, so if Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer want to swim, who am I to stand in their way? They walked ahead to the pond while Alexis and I pounded in another bit of our now impressive run of fence.

(Henry & Justin walk to the pond with Vivian and Luther)

(Prepared for work)

    Nervous, about water and children, and wondering if they'd listen to my rules when I wasn't there, Alexis and I drove out to the pond sooner than later. Pulling up, I was delighted to see two boys heeding my words. I sat on the shore watching the pair of Canada geese who'd settled in for the spring. Henry would honk at them and they'd honk back. I wondered if they were the parents of the goslings we'd had here two years ago. They return to the same pond every year ala' "Fly Away Home".

(Henry lounges)

(Old friends?)

(Me and Bruno by the pond)

I thought of our goslings and Clara. I'm struggling not to get attached. I try not to handle them knowing I want to sell them, but I can't really sell them without a viable boy. So I'm waiting patiently for Mabel/Ruthie's hatch. Certain at this point they're waiting for me to leave town to birth those babies.

    Sure we have Colt and he's a fighter, but he still has one droopy eye and is a fraction of the size of his big fluffy sisters. He is making progress, when Alexis puts him outside with the others he definitely tries to forage. The girls are constantly eating. Ripping grass, roots and anything their little heart desires goes in their stomach. Colt will run behind them and mimic them but not necessarily eat. Often times, he still has to be put in the water to remind him to drink and Alexis still brings him in every night and puts him under the heat lamp to keep him a snug 90 degrees.

    I watched him in the baby pool the other day. All the other gosling girls went over the edge of the baby pool like track stars, but Colt, well, he had a difficult time jumping out. Time after time he tried hopping and stepping over the edge. Henry and I desperately wanted to help him, but we knew had to do it on his own if he was going to be out here. So we sat back hoping he'd make it. And, after a painful long time, he clumsily stumbled over a rousing applause. A giant leap forward in his chances for survival.

(trying)

(trying)

(success!)

(Colt and his ginormous sisters)

(Little Colt looking at Mama)

    I've been feeling a little sorry for myself lately, and in truth I'm a fairly lazy person at heart, but when I watch the little guy, I wonder how I have the nerve to complain. He was struggled and fought for every breath, drink and morsel. As I see him try so desperately to keep up, it makes me pause and reevaluate my life. Truthfully, the struggles I've endured have brought me tenfold in reward. It sound sappy I know, way more Melanie than my usual Scarlet perspective. I've learned I can tote water for weeks on end if I have to; in true Scarlet fashion. I've realized I can make a myriad of inexpensive refrigerator surprise dinners, I've benefited from the kindness of strangers and found friends in people I never dreamed cared. I discovered a friend I thought I'd lost forever just to find she's really a guardian angel in disguise. I've learned to hold on to hope and put one foot in front of the other.

(Justin snorkles)

April 12th Great Expectations

   

(tucked in the mama)

    Easters are supposed to be blue skies sundresses, sandals, tulips and quirky bonnets, but in reality even in California they're often dreary, rainy days. I remember Henry's first Easter dressed as a little sailor complete with hat at the Descanso Gardens egg hunt. It poured unrelentingly as soggy toddlers dragged their brightly colored baskets through the mud while mothers and fathers hovered trying to keep umbrellas over them as they dodged about looking for plastic treasures filled with goodies.

    The one thing, for as long as I can remember. I could count on is my sister. When we were young she would walk in my room every Easter saying “He is Risen!” Even after we no longer lived together, and no matter what time zone either one of us were in,  I would hear the phone ring and “He is Risen!” would be the words I would expect.

    A bit of melancholy swept over me as I knew this Easter would be different. Lisa and Chris are in Cancun with the girls and we had decided it would just be too expensive for her to be calling me with the ridiculous inflated roaming charges on her cell phone. They knew the dogs were fine Mike was taking care of them and I knew their hotel in case of emergency. Everything else could wait.

    No matter, the day burst open when Henry woke up, sprang out of bed, raced down the stairs screaming “Easter bunny bawlk, bawlk” as he struggled to get out the front door to see if there was indeed an Easter basket waiting for him on the other side. I say struggled to get out the front door, because like many things that weren’t done exactly right on this house, our door handles are falling off one by one and he has to use a key or a screwdriver to unlatch the latch. But I’ll think about that tomorrow.
(Henry's Easter basket filled with his favorites, broccoli, veggie vitamins, tangerine scrub, Pirate Booty, a Coke™, chocolate covered pretzels, Chai tea, and of course Toblerone™)

(Easter Bunny - my what big ears you have)

(Easter Bunny?)
(Happy Henry)

    The rest of the morning was filled with brunch preparations. Including the quartering of strawberries, tearing of spinach, candying of walnuts, crumbling of Gorgonzola, the tying of bows and ironing of tablecloths and of course there was going out in the pouring rain in my boots and pajamas clippers in hand trolling the ditches for flowers to put on the table.

(Oranges)

(Easter flower/weed centerpieces)

Henry obeyed orders. “Get another small tablecloth, make the waffle batter, tie pink bows, find more bunnies, set up the waffle making station, look for napkins…”barked at him over the din of Alexis’ vacuuming.

(mason jars full of flowers and weeds, my mother's German bunnies, and paper cups filled with cinnamon-nutmeg waffle batter)

    “Henry, I really want you to remember your manners when the Rudy’s arrive. I don’t want you to eat like wolf-boy.” I said as I wiped the counter.

    “Do I have to eat everything?”

    “Well, I’d like you to try everything at least one bite. I don’t know if Trevin and Austin will, but you should.”

    “Austin will I’m sure he eats salad he’s thirteen.”

    “So is thirteen a magic number?”

    “Well, Austin's mature. In some religions, like if you’re Jewish it means you’re grown up.

    "But Austin's not Jewish."

    "No, look at Michael he had his Bar Mitzvah.”

    “Hmm, you’re holding the younger Ungar up as your example of grown up? Seriously? And what if you’re Catholic?”

    “You’re still a kid.”

    “Huh so then you don't have to eat salad?”

    "Right."

    When the guests arrived, the table was set, the coffee was brewed, the quiche hot and the champagne cold. We began with mimosas and deviled eggs while the kids went out to the barn to see if any more goslings had hatched.
(Dave and Kim celebrate)

(Goosedown snuggy)

(Dave instructs Trevin)

(Mike getting worked into a point of view)

The boys played pool while the jukebox blared and we chatted. Mike gave a couple rants about educational systems and other social ills and then we moved on to our meal eventually rounding out a wonderful afternoon with a rousing game of Apples to Apples™.

(Mike dipping into the strawberry/spinach/walnut/gorgonzola salad)

(Denise (in the blouse Laura gave me) and her 15th mimosa?)

(Austin after a trip to the waffle station)

  (Kim's cupcakes)

(Alexis judges the cards to Trevin's amusement)

(Denise and Henry- if only my hair wasn't in my face, I wasn't hunched over like Yoda and Henry's glassed didn't cover his eyes - this would be a nice picture)

(Irish always willing to help make sure all the crumbs are cleared)

    After the guests were gone and the dishes were done, I went out to my car to get some things I needed. As I slipped into the cold driver’s seat to get out of the rain, I heard my cell phone beep. Unusual for here as we don’t get reception, but as I leaned slightly to the left I got just a bar and a text message appeared “He is Risen!”

April 7th In A Heartbeat

(The first daunting apple tree)

    It was a stunningly beautiful day one of those days that demand you go outside. The hot sun shone brightly as I began the seemingly endless task of pruning the apple trees. Time is of the essence because with spring approaching the trees need to be pruned before they begin to bud, or we will have another year of mediocre apples. Some of the trees haven’t ever been pruned while others look in pretty good shape.  I gathered a ladder, pruners, a limb saw, consulted my Western Gardner handbook and went to work.

    My mother used to love trimming trees. "It's like giving him a nice haircut," she'd say as she hacked away. I thought of her while I sat in the tree sawing alone with my thoughts. The limbs were huge,and my arms were soon sore. I ached but I refused to consider using a chainsaw when I'd have to lift it higher than my waist and especially when I'd have to be on a ladder. Instead, I consoled myself with  the toning I was doing.

(limb successfully removed)

(Denise - me - in the apple tree working)

(Henry brings Mama some much needed water)

    Henry started out strong on his list of chores. He gave Irish a much needed bath and brushing, washed a rug from upstairs and put it in the sun to dry, picked up dog poop revealed by melting snow and that’s about where he stopped. Somehow he began fashioning spears and throwing them at trees. Soon he had Alexis throwing them and creating his own spears. The rest of the day we all spent outside in the sun, me in my apple trees and the boys on the lawn playing Lord of the Flies while Clyde, Colter and their sisters puttered about contentedly peeping in the vegetable garden that begged weeding. Miracle ran a round kicking up her heels, the goats nibbled pine needles and the dogs rested in the shade. All but Luther who basked in the sun. I didn’t even let the rest of the pterodactyls out so we’d have some peace.

(Vivian with the huge bone she found - Irish has an even bigger one - Lisa thought it could be elk parts)

    As the sun disappeared it got cool fast so we began the task of taking our newest goose family into the barn. I picked up Lloyd and Clara while Alexis attended to the goslings. He’d picked up three when Henry came out of the barn.

    “Henry, can you come in here and get the last two goslings?” I asked.

    “Sure.” He said as he pushed the flimsy chicken wire gate aside. He circled around and went toward the goslings who instinctively ran. Catching goslings is like trying to catch drops of water.

    I looked over my shoulder and could see Vivian at the entrance of the garden. I screamed at her to stay back but Vivian, seeing Henry trying to catch the goslings, instinctively tried to help. She leapt toward the goslings. I was helpless; the goslings were helpless as I held their protectors Lloyd and Clara in my arms. Henry tried to grab her, but she was too fast. And in an instant Clyde was dead. His little wing contorted, as he lay on the ground lifeless.

    “Is he dead? Is he dead? No! He can’t be dead! She killed him! I hate her!” Henry screamed tears running down his face. He pulled his glasses aside to wipe his tears his body shaking.

    Fiercely, I grabbed Vivian by the collar and locked her in the back yard. Then I just held my sobbing son. It was my fault. From the moment I saw her at the edge of the garden, I knew what she would do she’d always charged the geese as I picked them up. Until now she never came close to hurting one. I don’t think she meant to kill it. I don’t even think she knew he died. During times of grief and regret your mind thinks funny things. As I held Henry, I thought of “Galaxy Quest.” The silly movie with Tim Allen where there’s a powerful weapon that turns time back just a few seconds. If only.

    Raw with grief, Henry went in the house to call my sister while Alexis and I chose a spot for our new pet cemetery knowing that although this was the first death on the farm, there would be others. We chose a nice spot in a grove of trees. I got the spade out of the barn. Solemnly, Alexis dug the hole tears heavy in his eyes while I got a linen napkin to wrap the body. In the cold as it grew dark we spoke softly of tiny spirits and being one with the Universe, the cycle of life and ashes to ashes. I thought of the candeling and how short a time Clyde had had with his family.

(the area)

(a spring napkin)

(Alexis wrapping Clyde's body)

  (The burial site)

     Afterward I went into to check on Lloyd, Clara and the girls. Lloyd and Clara were highly agitated. They kept counting their babies and knew one was missing. I climbed in their pen and sat with them while watching the loss they so obviously felt. “I’m so sorry I let you down my friend.” I apologized to Lloyd. "I kept you from protecting your babies. I didn't mean to really. Can you ever forgive me?" I had no tears. Alexis who’d put Colter in the house brought him out and put him with the others so they could count five again.

    “ I talked to Lisa and Phoebe,” Henry said sadly when I finally came inside.

    “What did they say?” I asked quietly.

    “Phoebe cried and Lisa told me about your dogs and your bunny. She told me lots of things. She calmed me down.” He replied.

    “Did she tell you about Max and Maxine?” I asked.

    “Yes.” He said.

    “Our neighbors who raised chickens told my parents we were supposed to tie the bodies of the chicks around the dogs necks to let them rot and teach them never to do that again.” I explained.

    “I don’t want to do that. I couldn’t’ take it.” Henry said.

    “No. I couldn’t either.”

    "I talked to Awesomez too."

    "Oh yeah, what did she say?"

    "She said to remember the pig farmer and that Clyde's last day was happy with his family."

    "So they both made you feel better?"

    “Yeah, I couldn't get a hold of Daddy. Mama?" He said with such pain in his voice it hurt my heart. "I wish it didn’t happen. I see Vivian differently now - everything has changed.”

April 6th Family Affair

(Alexis' charge)

    After 24 hours of driving in three days, we slept like the dead, surrounded by our menagerie. I woke up and started the coffee. Tom was close behind followed by Henry. Anxious to see the babies we chatted excitedly about going out to the barn, when suddenly Alexis appeared in the kitchen with a gosling wrapped in a towel.It seems the poor thing had gotten lodged between the nest and the wall.

    “I’m not sure how long she was there before I got her out. She couldn’t hold her head up. It would just flop over and she wasn’t strong enough to move so I brought her in and we’ve been together ever since. I’ve been feeding her colostrum with an eyedropper. It’s after all a cure all for almost everything. I named her Anne because she’s a survivor like Anne Frank.” Alexis explained.

    My first thought was a slight twinge of jealousy. Alexis was caring for the baby and I wasn’t. I should have been here. In a flash my feelings turned to overwhelming gratitude. I was so fortunate he’d been here to save the little one and lucky he’d taken the initiative to care for the hatchling. I wondered about the name. Anne Frank didn’t really survive did she? And I’m not sure, but think it’s a boy. The bill was sort of dark so it was ambiguous. Finally, I wasn’t sure feeding colostrum was a good idea, as birds didn’t produce it, only mammals.

    “Well, my sister and the girls are coming out today to see the goslings so she can take a look at the little fella.” I said more to myself than anyone.

    After taking a good look at Alexis’ new charge. We bolted outside to see our babies’ babies. It was so exciting to see Lloyd and Clara out in the yard using the crevice from the tractor as a tiny swimming hole for their brood. Lloyd came up and greeted us while Clara sat demurely with her peeps as they peep, peep, peeped. I didn’t like the idea of the tractor track water possibly from the compost as their bath so we moved the family over closer to the barn.
(meeting the family)

(Mama and babies)

    Sitting in the sun sipping coffee as Henry lay on the ground as close as he could to the goslings we were riveted by the new family. The excitement at seeing the babies with Lloyd and Clara is almost indescribable. It was amazing what a good mother and father Lloyd and Clara were protecting and counting their babies completely by instinct as they were here on their second day of life without ever being with a parent. Just then, Lisa and the girls rolled up.

    The doors opened and the girls raced across the driveway shrieking as everyone met the new babies. And once again Alexis appeared cradling his towel wrapped charge. I explained to Lisa what was going on ending with “…Anne Frank, because she was a survivor.”

(farm camo-Romaine lettuce)

(About to take a dip)

(Clara and her babies after a swim)

(struggle for snuggle)

(Alexis and Lisa chat about bird health)

    “But uhh, she didn’t ultimately make it.” Lisa said trying to be gentle. We were on the same page. “And I don’t know about the colostrum.” She worried. “It might be a negative in a bird.”

    “It looks like a boy.” Phoebe insisted and we all agreed. “There are two boys and three girls. See look at their bills. With Cotton Patch you can tell right away.” Farm-girl Phoebe explained.

    “Maybe you could call him Frank?” Lisa suggested.

    Suddenly, as we we’re standing in the warm sun watching the new family eat Vivian came creeping out of the barn. Turning I saw she had an egg in her mouth! She came running out and scurried off into some tall grass where she put the egg down and sat near it.

(Vivian carries the egg)

    “Alexis! Remember that egg I found on the lawn the other day? Maybe it wasn’t new. Maybe Vivian put it there.” I surmised just as she went into the barn and got another egg laying it in another location.

    “She’s being gentle. Does she want to eat it? Or hatch it?” Quinn asked amongst the laughter. The day was filled with sunshine and rebirth. Vivian and her antics seemed to add to the carnival atmosphere. Anything seemed possible even a rottweiler hatching an egg. Although we all agreed Luther was better suited.

(Vivian with "her" egg)

    I suspected however, she was not acting with maternal intent rather I thought she was more Templeton the rat. Especially, once we confirmed these were Clara’s abandoned eggs. The ones she stopped sitting on when the others were hatched. It didn’t take long to verify this when one of the eggs cracked open and a smell beyond compare wafted through the air amid screams of disgust. Vivian tried to roll in it while Tom gathered the rotten goose eggs and disposed of them.

    With an egg stealer on the loose, and three crazy ganders we decided to enclose Lloyd and his family in the vegetable garden where they would be safe. I worried about the other ganders they were acting wild. We decided they needed to be incarcerated. So I picked up Quackmire to put him in the flower garden and he bit me. Not a love bite, a hard bite on my tricep. The pain took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes partially because it was excruciating and partially because he’d hurt my feelings. Quackmire bit me? Really? Really? Are you kidding’ me?

(Quackmire's handy work)

    “What are we going to do Mama? Are we going to get rid of Quackmire too?” Henry asked.

    “I don’t know. My mother always said: When you don’t know what to do, don’t do anything. Right now, the only thing I can promise is we’re keeping Lloyd and Clara. I’m not promising anything else. We only have one healthy boy gosling at the moment so I don’t know if I can even sell a breeding pair yet. We have to see if any of Mabel’s eggs hatch.”
(Tom drills the ends of the eggs)

(Henry blows the yolk)

(Tom blows his egg)

    Once Quackmire, Cleveland and Alfred were enclosed we went inside to blow the unfertilized goose eggs for Easter. Tom got his drill while Henry and Alexis with Phoebe’s help decided to use the high falutin’ Veeta-Vita-Vegi-Mix Tom won and create a lettuce smoothie for the little guy, “Frank?” They didn’t make it too thick or too thin, but just right so the little boy could gain some strength and go back out with his brother and sisters. He was definitely improving.

(Henry pours Romaine Smoothie, while Phoebe and Alexis care for the gosling)

(Happy Phoebe)

(Eyedropper feeding session)

    During the eyedropper feeding session in between prying the gosling’s bill open Henry told Alexis the story of John Colter and before long the struggling little boy was being called Colt while his healthy brother had been named Clyde for Bonnie and Clyde.

(Clara with a little girl - dark bill- and healthy boy - Clyde with the lighter bill on right)

     That didn't end well either I thought as I worried about all this naming. I know I don’t want to become the crazy goose lady of Mosquito Lake Road some of them are definitely leaving.

April 2nd While We Were Out

(Clara and her first)

    Henry and I drove out of the driveway at 5:00AM headed toward our first stop Spokane, Washington. We were both anxious about Clara, Lloyd and their eggs. I had done as Toby had instructed and held the eggs up to my ear. I didn’t hear peeping as she said I might, but I did hear little clicking sounds. Given that the noise was faint I thought they might wait until we got back on Sunday with Tom.

    No such luck. Alexis let me know late that evening as I sat in Spokane sipping a margarita and eating spicy barbecue that Clara’s eggs were hatching. He’d gone into the Honeymoon Suite and heard a bit of peeping only to see Clara and her newborns.

    Missed it by that much.

(Clara and her first baby)

(Clara and her new baby play peek-a-boo)
) (more family show up)

(A tired mommy and her hatch)

(Proud Mama Clara)

(Hiding under the wing)

(tucked under safe and warm)

 

 

 

 

March 27th Over Easy

(Spring is promising to come)

    Ever since Lisa Awesomez arrived, I’ve stopped doing anything. She's giving me a good dose of mothering, she drives me around, does my dishes, chats with Henry, sweeps my hallway, takes me out to eat, pours the wine and has even tried to help me feed the goats.

    In fact, when we were out in the barn I decided we’d better isolate Clara and Lloyd from the other geese again. So we readied the Honeymoon Suite for her and her soon-to-be-goslings. Luckily, we’d had the foresight to put her nest in the bottom of a dog carrier so she was easily moved. I scooped a bunch of shavings in to make it comfy cozy, we got the old gosling’s water jug and filled it. Lisa was able to tighten it down whereas I couldn’t – a rare show of strength, because although she is athletic, I’ve always known I could kick her butt if need be. She too is aware of this, which makes me smile.

    Anyway, I digress, we got some goose feed and put it in a bowl for her and then finally transferred her nest. We were going to try to keep her on top, but were too afraid she’d start flapping and we’d lose control of the nest. To be on the safe side then, we removed Clara from her eggs and gingerly and more carefully than the jeweler cutting diamonds on the old Lincoln™ commercials, we transported the nest. Clara followed closely behind watching us like a hawk or mother hen or some sort of watchful bird. She waddled into the Honeymoon Suite and with her bill counted her eggs. Then walked back to where her nest had previously been looking for her babies. She was confused. I picked her up and brought her to her eggs once more. She didn’t sit on her nest, but stood there looking around. Lisa (Awesomez) and I got a piece of wood and barricaded her in. She was agitated almost frantic, but I thought she’d settle down in a moment. I was wrong. With the determination of a mother trying to protect her young, Clara flew over the barricade and went to where her old nest had been once again. Lisa and I stood there dumbfounded. We wanted to protect her not torture her. I scooped her up again and put her back near her eggs.

(Clara checks nest)
(Clara looks for her missing nest)

(Clara refuses to sit on her nest - unconvinced all her eggs are here)

(Clara's nest uncovered in case it tempts her)

    “Do you have a larger piece of wood?” Lisa asked me sensibly.

    “I should, you guard Clara and I’ll look.” I suggested.

    “Guard Clara? What? Me?” Lisa asked in a slight panic. “You are going to leave me alone with the goose?” She asked wide-eyed.

    “Yes. Just stand there so she doesn’t fly out again. You don’t really have to do anything, she’s not going to fly when you’re blocking the way.” I left her there uncomfortably watching her charge while I went around the yard looking for a suitable piece of wood that would serve as Clara’s barrier, but everything I found was either too big or too heavy or not quite right. When I returned, Lisa was standing there staring at Clara and Clara was staring right back at Lisa.
(Clara looking at Lisa)

(Vivian helping)

    “She did eat and drink a little bit, I think she’s settling down.” Lisa dutifully reported. Suddenly, braniac that I am, I had an idea. Why didn’t we just close the sliding door? It seems obvious, but we hadn’t wanted to really ‘close them in’ like that. I felt more comfortable being able to peek in, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Sure enough, when we came back to check on her, she was back on her nest.

(Clara finally sits)

    Several times through out the day I came out to check on her. Lisa no longer wanted to come because of them. The evil twins. Alfred and Cleveland are waging war on anyone who comes in to their yard. They tried to goose Lisa, but she escaped.
(Alfred and Cleveland -menacing)

(Alfred and Cleveland waging war)

(Cleveland aggressive)

(Lloyd full of personality, mugging for the camera)

(Lisa and her new friends, Lloyd and Quackmire going to the pond)

I wasn’t so lucky. Alfred attacked me. He surprised me by getting me by the pant leg and almost took me down. I had to push him away with a shovel. Upset and disappointed, I wondered how Phoebe would have fared. Strangely, Ruthie and Matilda are getting just as aggressive while Lloyd and Quackmire are just as cuddly as ever and Clara lets me pet her on the nest. Mabel is skittish these days, but would never attack. As a result, thoughts of culling the gaggle in favor of a couple of goslings are going through my head. But I’ll think about that tomorrow, it must be time for Lisa to make dinner and I need another glass of wine.

March 19th A Breed Apart

(Lloyd on left and Quackmire - on patrol)

    It’s one thing if my house is a bit messy and I’ve ignored my laundry, it’s another if my barn is dirty. And my barn is dirty. The last time it was cleaned, we put straw down instead of wood shavings; because it was so cold the pile of wood shavings had frozen into a huge wooden lump. Straw is ok in the short term. The animals snack on the bedding when you first put it in and it looks fluffy. However, it isn’t very absorbent and once the little critters start making a mess, you quickly have a thick urine soaked carpet you have to pry apart with a pitchfork. It’s not easy work, but it is relaxing and excellent exercise if you’re on Weight Watchers™. With every heave and ho you feel you're core tightening and your triceps readying themselves for tank tops. I was pleasantly surprised when I came in for a coffee break and the phone rang.

    “Hey, I’m coming out early.” My sister, announced from her cell phone.

    “Uh oh.” I uttered.

    “What? Isn’t today the day you wanted me to help with Anna?” She asked.

    “Yes. But my barn is filthy and I wanted it clean before you got here.” I replied meekly.
(Denise mucks)

    “Don’t be ridiculous, that’s why I’m coming early to help you muck the barn. I have my boots on, Charlie’s with me to play with Irish and I brought chicken patties for lunch, so we can make my version of the Jenny Craig™ chicken sandwich. I just wanted to know since you gave up dairy for Lent if you have any milk for coffee. I’m passing Dodson’s and I’ll stop and get some.” She explained enthusiastically. For being the younger sister, she certainly tries to take care of me since our mother died. She chides me at times and  pushes me into doing things like candling, but honestly without her I'd be lost.

    “I have milk, Henry needs it for cereal, he didn’t give up dairy for Lent. He gave up being a jerk remember?”

    “OK. See you soon.” She hung up and I went back to forking the straw out, trying to get as much done as possible before she arrived.

    On her way out to the barn, she had to navigate the band of bachelor geese and Matilda. Goosed twice by Cleveland, we decided he and Alfred needed to be incarcerated or we’d never get anything done.

    We tried talking over the din of honking flustered geese, but gave up unless we were right next to each other. I felt sorry for Miracle, the goats and my lambs. They are quiet gentle creatures and I couldn’t help but think these maniac geese were probably driving them crazy. Tom would have to help me build an annex for them so his girl, Miracle, could have some peace and quiet. Maybe in the chicken coop or where I planned to put the pig I dreamed of getting.

(Charlie & Winnifred - Lisa's dogs visit the farm)

    The morning flew; the sandwiches were delicious and just as we were about to go back to the barn after our coffee break to join Alexis who’d come by to lend a hand, Becky and Dave Heinlein drove up.

(Alexis takes over while we greet the Heinleins)

(Lloyd and Quackmire help)

    Becky and Dave had contacted me last month about possibly purchasing Anna. They live on Lopez Island in the San Juans and have a self-sustaining farm, growing all their own vegetables, raising chickens for meat and eggs and Romney sheep for fleece and meat. Their missing link is milk, which they hope to satisfy with a Milking Devon.

    I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to sell Anna, but I was open to the possibility. I had a deal in mind. Anna is a bit temperamental. Oh, she’s a great heifer and all, but she isn’t snuggly. Dave and Becky don’t want snuggly. They want a milk cow. So if they like her, they’d need to breed her so she’d come into milk and further, they’d have to breed her every year to keep her in milk. I’d want a calf. I dream of raising a calf like Norman, in “City Slickers”. A real pet. So if the day came when we had a camp, she’d enjoy being pet and touched by kids.

    All of this was racing through my mind as Dave got out of the car. I was amused to see him get out of his truck without a word and change from his good boots to his farm boots. This reminded me of the way Minnesotans live on one lake, but vacation on another. I smiled to myself, these were real farmers a different breed.

(The great boot switch)

    Lisa and I walked up coffee in hand and introduced ourselves.
“I love your hat.” Lisa said as she shook Beckie’s hand, “Did you sheer the wool, dye it, spin it and knit it yourself?”

    “I didn’t spin it.” She answered smiling. And with that we all walked down to the pasture to look at the Devons.
(Beckie & Dave)

    Anna, Abe and Andy saw us and came trotting their bells jingle, jangle jingling as they made their way over from the far end of the pasture. They knew I’d have cookies.
    I explained “I really wanted to give them more attention and train the boys sooner, I just got so busy when I moved here and had so many things to do, that kind of got pushed to the end of the list. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” I admitted.

    “Who hasn’t? That makes you a farmer.” Beckie assured me. Dave and I climbed into the pasture to handle Anna while Lisa and Beckie chatted by the fence. Anna was on her guard immediately. She knew this fellow with the hat was looking at her a little too intensely and became skittish and flighty.

 (muddy Anna looking wary)

    “This is not a McDonalds moment Anna. Settle down girl.” Lisa explained to her. “I think she’s nervous she’s going to be served with fries.” She laughed as Dave nodded backing up and giving Anna room.

    “Well, she’s got a good top line and her eyes aren’t wild. She likes those cookies.” He said.

    “We just didn’t want pasture cows.” Beckie explained. I knew what she meant - cows that run to the far end of the field when they see you coming. These three weren’t that, rather they’re always curious and under foot.

(Anna a bit more relaxed chewing a cookie)

    “We love the breed and want to help preserve it. But we have to be honest with you, we eat the boys.” Beckie admitted.

    “I think Denise is OK with that, aren’t you?” Lisa said looking to me.

    “Yes, I am. Strangely, since I’ve had the livestock I’ve become more understanding about eating them. I personally, couldn’t eat mine, but it’s the sale and consumption of the animals that sustains the breed. Slow Foods is truly helping keep the rare breeds alive.”

    “It’s true. We just don’t want breeds that take special care, ones that can’t reproduce on their own, can’t forage. That’s why we’re getting Dorkings.” She said. My ears perked up.

    “You’ve found Dorkings? Silver?” I asked excitedly. “I’ve been looking for Silver, but haven’t been able to get any. Where?” I asked and she answered giving me all the chicken particulars.

    “Well,” Dave interjected, “I think this might work. There’s some semen I’m interested in from a bull who broke his leg and just got put down back in Vermont, Cosmo, he produced some fine heifers. If we can work the A.I. (artificial insemination) situation then we’re in business.”

(Andy having a snack)

    “Kulshan Veterinary Clinic is nearby, and I’m certain I can handle that end of things.” Lisa confirmed.

     “If I can just get a copy of her registration papers. We can see how we’ll proceed.” Dave said seemingly making a decision.

    “OK. I can go get them, just a moment.” I offered.

    “You can put your hands on her papers that quickly?” Lisa said with obvious surprise as she knew me too well.

    “Yes. I can.” I said feeling proud of myself as my filing system is certainly not up to snuff, but I do know where the important things are.

    “Great, If we can the A.I. situation handled I’d do it’ I’d like to breed her about June or July so she’d have her calf about this time next year and she’d have some nice grass to raise her calf on, we don’t want her dropping in winter.” He said looking at his watch.

    “I know you’re in a hurry to make the ferry, so if you want to get going I can send the paperwork tomorrow.”

    “That’d be best, thanks for everything.” They said in unison and walked off to put their good boots back on.

(Dave and his boots)

March 17th Light Up My Life

 

(Me -sanding the landing- stairs to the attic apartment)

    I’d done all the research on what to look for when candling goose eggs, I was prepared and anxious, but I waited patiently, which isn't like me, however Henry wanted to be there for the big event. So I sanded the day away trying to get the landing ready for painting.

     Henry had begged Tom into changing his flight so he could have his dad be at just one wrestling match this season. He wanted Tom to see him win. Tom couldn't do anything but comply when he looked into that puppy dog face with the lip jutting out.

    Excited would be an understatement of Henry's fervor. He was amped. Making the disappointment of his first wrestling loss to an eighth grader, six inches taller even more bitter. My boy was beaten by a kid who was all arms and legs, but not with out a struggle. Although the coach said he thought it was a bad call, there was humiliation, embarrassment, a river tears and endless apologies to daddy for letting him down.

    “You didn’t let me down. Sure, I wanted to see you win, but I just wanted to see you wrestle. I love you. Some kid loses every match, you’re not going to win them all.” He said as he grabbed Henry in a choke-hold. “Does this feel familiar?” He said laughing and soon Henry was laughing. Nana took us all for a light St. Patrick's Day dinner of corned beef and cabbage at Skylarks before we headed home to candle.
(Cleveland charging- note T-Rex stance)

(Miracle and Riley watch the action)

    Everything was ready, the box was in place, but I was nervous and on edge. I’d read how the slightest mishap could ruin the air pocket and cause the gosling in the egg to die. I didn’t know if we’d see any cracks, I was supposed to look for cracks. I was concerned we wouldn’t know what we were seeing when we saw it.

   

(empty egg)

    First we checked, Matilda’s eggs. They were cold to the touch and fairly easy to determine whether they had anything at all in them or not. Anything iffy we marked and returned to her nest. Honestly, after looking at the eggs I don't think she'll hatch more than one of her nineteen eggs. We decided to hold off on the Psycho Sitters, Ruthie and Mabel who seem to be pulling each other’s neck feathers out. We’d put almost all the ganders in with them and we didn’t want to deal with the situation while we were learning.

    During the evening, Henry was at times less than careful with the eggs and I have to say, I was perhaps too quick to overreact. I didn't want anything to happen to the eggs and I didn't want Henry to have to feel responsible, but in retrospect I realize my voice tonight was cutting at times, hurtful to a fragile boy of eleven who'd just lost his first wrestling match. Maybe I'm more self-aware it being Lent, I apologized thinking I'd have to work on my tone. I could be softer a more marshmallow less prickly mom-more Clara less Matilda.

  (neck feathers getting taken out)

(some of the eggs we removed)

(so there was no mistake we wrote "gosling" on the good eggs)

(Lloyd roamed about while we worked)

(egg with something)

    This experience was a little like when I was pregnant. I’d read all the books “What To Expect When You’re Expecting” and every other book my friends, my sister, and my mother handed me. But it wasn’t until I was in bed one night when I felt the wiggle, the first flutter. The feeling I’d swallowed a gold fish. It was magical. A life was really inside me. I'd known it, but now I knew it. That’s how it felt today when we checked Clara’s eggs. Up until then, they were just eggs, now they're rare Cotton Patch goslings waiting to hatch.

(Lloyd chastises Henry for taking his baby)

March 16th Let There Be Light

 (The gander gang and - Matilda who has abandoned her nest to be with the guys)

    Lisa, the voice of reason called this morning, “How many eggs do you have? You don’t want to be overwhelmed with goslings Denise.” She said authoritatively.

    “I know I don’t but the truth is some of these geese are trailer trash mothers, they leave they’re nests all day and I don’t think a lot of eggs are going to hatch”.

    “Well, you need to candle them.” She said matter-of-factly.

    “Candle them? I don’t know how to candle them and I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

    “Well, I can get you that or you can look it up yourself, but I think you should do it so you don’t have so many goslings you don’t know what to do.” She insisted.

    “You’re right, I know you’re right. Last Henry checked Matilda had 19 eggs. So much for Tom Walker telling me 10. Clara is the only one who seems to know what she’s doing and she has about 17 and that’s not counting psycho-sitters Ruthie and Mabel. I have no idea how many they have or what’s going on in that nest. Tom Walker says he doesn’t think a two-goose nest will hatch anything because they’ll each instinctively turn them causing the eggs not to stay warm enough.” I said a bit shrilly.

    “Would you say they have about 12?” She asked.

    “Yes. I’d say so.”

    “Denise that’s going on 50 eggs! You need to find out what’s going on. If they have a gosling that’s one thing, but some eggs might not be fertile and you can blow them out and use them for Easter decorations or sell them to crafters. That way maybe they can keep the others warm.”

    “OK. OK. I’ll figure it out.” I said suddenly feeling my Catholic guilt kick in. Was I a bad mother not taking care of the geese? I suppose I should have candled them right away; maybe some wouldn’t live because of my misstep. Nothing I could do about it now.
(The ganders on the prowl)

    Charged by Alfred the moment I walked outside, I informed him, he’d better watch it or he could be looking pretty good for Christmas dinner. Frankly, they are all out of control. My formerly friendly, shy, geese are a raving band of testosterone driven lunatics. I’ve had it with them they’re like a gang roaming the property. They chased Henry into the car while he was trying to clean it out the other day. I hope they return to their formerly mild mannered selves after the hatch but I’m a little nervous.

    I started gathering the items I’d need to candle the eggs. Candling is a simple and age old process. Obviously started with a candle however, today a lamp or flashlight is even more effective. You simply put the egg in front of a piece of cardboard or wood with an egg-sized hole cut out of it. The egg stays on one side and the light shines through from the other side illuminating the egg from the bottom or side. Thereby allowing farmer Jane to see inside the egg. An ancient ultra sound of sorts, which allows you to see the development of the embryo.

The items I needed were 1. Cardboard, 2. Light source, I decided to use the big Costco™ flashlight 3. A pencil to mark the eggs 4. A basket to put the “bad” eggs in.
(the box being wrapped)

    I learned there’s a lot to consider when candling, there are fine cracks, which render an egg useless, and then all the different problems you can have with the yolk. The yolk and the possibility of a double yolk, they do not hatch twins rather they are bad as far as getting a gosling is concerned but can be eaten or discarded. There’s the yolk with blood. This is from what I understand OK. The blood is just a bit from the follicle and is harmless. The “meat” in the yolk is another condition to look for when assessing eggs for consumption or hatching. The “meat” is thought to be part of the follicle itself that was sloughed off when creating the egg, usually this is not hatched or eaten by humans but I hear dogs and cats love ‘em. Next, you have to look for bumpy shells indicating poor calcium and misshapen eggs illustrating a poor air pocket. The air pocket is essential for the chick’s survival. Too big an egg is bad, a round egg is bad and too small an egg is bad. It’s a wonder we have birds at all. But now that I know what I’m looking for I wanted to get it done.

(Tom cutting the hole for the flashlight which will be the bottom of the box)

(Tom with the egg hole illuminated and ready for an egg)

(the candle kit in the dark room - long exposure)

    Tom and I wrapped a box and cut some holes, got the Costco™ flashlight a pencil, a basket and set everything up in the dark little room where the refrigerator is in the barn. We thought the rig was a tad wobbly, we didn’t want to break an egg but with both of us doing it, we felt it would be all right.  All systems were go, until I went to get the first egg out of Matilda’s nest and the flashlight burned out. No other light we had worked so I went back to Lowes™ after being at Home Depot™ already once today to get something to do it properly.   

(Tom sacrifices an extension cord to wire the new candle rig)

(New candle rig)

    By the time Tom got our spiffy new candling rig set up and wired it was time to grain the cows and put the raucous ganders back in the barn. Let me assure you this decided the day. No one wanted to put their hands in the nests of a descendant to the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

    “What’s one more day anyway?” Henry wisely asked.

February 28th The Nanny

  

  (geese on the flap)

     Letting the geese out in the morning has become a hazardous event. The formerly docile geese have become a raging bunch of hormonal birds. The ganders have their dander up and will chase me if given half a chance. Even gimpy Alfred is on the attack. Lloyd is aggressive, but will still snuggle when I pick him up. This morning all the wild water poultry came out flapping. All except Matilda. She didn’t want to leave her nest this morning. I figured she was overdue to start sitting on her nest full time, but she’s started and stopped a couple of times before so I’m not sure how this thing actually works. Being first time mothers maybe they don’t either. Clara was sitting on her nest a couple of days ago when the weather was colder and they all sit on them at night, but usually they get up and go out to the pond or languish around the house nibbling on grass and enjoying the winter sunshine. Today Clara wanted to go out with everyone else and so went the day.

(Matilda sitting on her nest)

(Matilda's nest when she's not sitting)

(Matilda's 15 or 16 eggs - can't really tell without moving them - so much for an average of 9-11 eggs)

    A bit later in the afternoon, I went out to the barn to have visit with the residents figuring I hadn’t spent enough time outside during the cold snap and was shocked to see Ruthie sitting on her nest too. I walked closer, thinking she only had about five eggs and it was a little early for her to start sitting. However, when I got right up to her I saw it was not Ruthie at all, but Clara sitting on Ruthie’s nest. It seems she decided she needed to go back and sit on her eggs, but the gate had swung shut during the day and she couldn’t get to her nest, so she figured Ruthie’s would do.

    “Silly goose” I admonished and picked her up and carried her back to her nest. I hung out for a time watching her turn her eggs and settle in, Matilda all the while honking to her instructions or encouragement. It was fascinating to watch. She actually stood right on top of the eggs; her webbed feet folding gently around the shape as she tenderly turned each of the unborn goslings.

(Clara turning her eggs)

(Clara's clutch of eggs - starting a second layer)

(Matilda instructing)

    I had seen Mabel looking for a place to lay her eggs in the last few days. In fact, I’ve gone out flashlight in hand on an egg hunt searching small mounds of grass for a possible deposit but have not yet found any. Mabel had started sitting a lot in the pen with Ruthie so both Alexis and I put extra straw in so she’d have enough stuff to build a nest. Only she didn’t. She either laid eggs in Ruthie’s nest or is simply the hand that rocks the cradle because now Mabel has taken Ruthie’s nest over completely and poor bottom-of-the-pecking-order Ruthie has been relegated to sitting next to her eggs.

(Mabel on the left on the nest - Ruthie on the right with her bum wing)

(Ruthie looks on while Mabel sits the nest)

    (Ruthie's unattended uncovered nest)

    Alexis did find a lone egg out near the front door as he was walking by. We noticed some tiny punctures in the shell.  I’m sure it’s Mabel’s. We both figured a punctured egg was no good, so we cracked it open to see inside. And there was a giant beautiful farm fresh egg. I would have eaten it, much to Tom’s horror. Strangely, he and Go-Go would have made me feel like I was some kind of cannibal. But after all, it is an egg. I wondered, it being so enormous how many Weight Watcher points it would have been. I don’t think they list goose eggs in the basic foods points handbook. The puncture made me nervous with all the nasty bacteria you find on a farm so I decided not to have the omelet much to Tom’s relief.

(Mabel's egg)

(farm-raised cage free)

    When I went back to the barn this evening I noticed both Mabel and Clara were now sharing the eggs. So maybe Ruthie doesn’t have it so bad after all, maybe Mabel is simply the nanny.

(Mabel tends Ruthie's eggs)

(Sharing, Caring)

(Are you my mama? Ruthie on left)

February 18th A Wing And A Prayer

  (warm and cozy Irish)

    Peeking out the front door to check on Irish who was sunbathing on the porch I was struck by the silence. Stellar Jays flitting around the lawn looking for food made soft clicks. I looked out on the pasture, the cows were sprawled out on the brown grass soaking up the sunshine chewing their cud. Listening carefully I could hear chainsaws in the distance clear cutting up the mountain, the breeze mimicking a stream trickled through the tops of the surrounding forest. But I couldn't hear them. I got my binoculars and peered toward the pond. Nothing. I couldn't detect flapping or honking.  "Hey, hey, hey, little geese, little geese. Hey, hey, hey little geese!" I called in my deep and echoing goose herding voice. Nothing. I pushed my nervousness back; after all they were adult geese now not goslings. They walked to the pond on a regular basis despite the dangers. They had their nests full of eggs and they always came home before dark.

(Irish Clarence -snoozing in the winter sun keeping an eye on his cows)

    Ignoring my fears I went about my business, busying myself with different projects needing my attention. I wrapped things up early making Henry a ham sandwich for gymnastics, knowing I had to pick up Phoebe from school and get her to soccer then get Quinn from volleyball and Henry from wrestling. They'd need Slurpees™ it was so warm. I walked to the car threw my purse on the passenger seat and got in, I put my key in the ignition and just sat there. I couldn't leave. I had to check on my little geese. I don't worry this much about Henry. I was nervous walking all the way to the pond on my bad leg since it was just now feeling better. But I had to go, so I chose my path carefully. As quickly as I could I hoofed it out there. Still I heard nothing. Almost to the pond I saw an enormous wing.
(Large Winged Bird)

My chest tightened with fear. My brain raced like a zip file trying to match the wing to the predator. In less than a flap I thought Eagle? Was one of the geese dead? The wingspan was large enough, but the color not quite right. Owl? Wrong body shape. Hawk? The wing was much too big. We don't have Condors. Immature eagle? Then the wing flapped and instantly I relaxed. It was a Great Blue Heron moving across the pond because I was approaching. It had been hanging with my geese who stood there somewhat dumbfounded not making a sound. I wondered if they were looking at this fellow with fear, curiosity or admiration. He was obviously fishing my pond for Henry's trout.

(hungry and looking for lunch)

Startled again, the enormous raptor with a wingspan of more than six feet took off flying a short distance onto a branch almost completely disappearing into the trunk of a barren tree. Evolution’s camouflage proving once again to be more exact than even the highly praised Home Depot color-matching machine.

(A perfect match)

(falling in line)

    My little geese turned and looked over at me, and like good obedient little geese they started to line up heading toward me assuming it was time to come in. Seeing they were safe, I told them they could stay and headed back to the car. I didn't want to be late to pick up Stinkerbell (Phoebe). Now I'm not completely delusional, I know they don't truly understand me, but I thought they'd received the message I'd sent. Figuring out I didn't need them when I didn't wait for them. Trotting carefully across the pasture I glanced back over my shoulder. They weren't following me anymore. They did understand, we'd communicated.

February 15th A Helping Hand

 (frosted trees as it begins to snow again)

    I languished in bed until the sun screamed at me to get up. When I looked outside I was surprised to see winter was back. The night had silently provided a glistening winter wonderland. Hobbling downstairs I poured a cup of coffee and walked outside onto the porch. Curled up with a blanket I there chatting on the phone in my green flannel pajamas, talking and laughing the morning away as the geese carried on their own conversation like a happy bunch of Greeks.

    Most of the day I spent in bed resting my leg. It was throbbing and I began wondering if it was ever going to heal. About noon, I was supposed to go retrieve Henry. The prospect of a shower was daunting, so I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and put on some lip-gloss. On my way out the door I spotted Alexis rigging up something in the barn. He’d just collected another of Clara’s eggs. I decided to put it in my jacket pocket to show Phoebe. She’d definitely want to see it.

(clear skies surround the twin sisters)
    I drove the ten miles to the little café on Mt. Baker Hwy where Lisa, Chris and the kids were waiting for me. They’d already ordered. As I pulled the egg out of my pocket I saw Phoebe’s eyes dance. “Whose egg is that?” She asked in awe.

    “Why’d you bring that?” Quinn asked with all the teenage angst she could muster.

    “Can I hold it?” Phoebe asked.

    “It’s covered in poop.” Quinn pointed out.

    “You’ll have to wash your hands before you eat.” Chris reminded her.

    “That’s ok.” She said gently taking the egg in her hands. We continued talking about the different nests and goose behaviors. I told Lisa I had the fool-her eggs in Matilda and Clara’s nests.

    “Not exactly the number, but it’s not like they can count.” I said laughingly.

    “Well actually they can.” She said seriously.

    “What?”

    “Yes. They count them and turn them for even heating.” She informed the table. While she was talking I looked over at Phoebe. She was absently petting the egg.

    “Are you petting the egg?” Chris asked choking out a laugh.

    “Yeah, I guess I am.” Phoebe said with a big smile. I vowed to put the proper amount of eggs in the nests, and was just about to take Henry when he begged to stay with Chris, Lisa and the girls “Just one more day. Pleeeeeze!”

    “Sure why not?” I gave in a perhaps too quickly. Isn't  a mother is supposed to pine for her child or something. I had visions of lounging in my bed getting some work done filling my head. The idea of no one to make dinner for, no one to ask me for anything, just peace and quiet was an interesting idea.

(Alexis' goose rig)

(other half of the room)

    I got home as Alexis was finishing with his barn rig. It was pretty sweet. He had divided the goose stall in to two separate areas for the two couples. Each had their own dog carrier as their potentially portable nest. They could share water, and food, but remain separate. While the other four were in the old dog pens clipped together in the center of the barn making a menacing sound. I felt badly for Miracle; those big ears and all. I wondered if the racket drove her absolutely nuts or if the animals liked the activity.

(Miracle wonders what all the fuss is about)

(Alexis and Cleveland)

(The egg-less couples - by choice)

I went inside the house with the intention of doing some stuff on the computer, but Alexis built me a fire in the family room and I relaxed with my leg up as another couple of hours melted away catching up with old friends.

    After the barn was closed up for the night, Alexis and I decided to hit the North Fork Beer Shrine – Pizza- and Wedding Chapel. I’d saved my points and was ready for the house cab. We had a great dinner and a long talk about life, our hopes our dreams and how we intended to re-introduce the goose eggs. What came next was unexpected. I don’t know why maybe it was the wine, or the snow or the long talks I’d had with my friends lately, but I found myself opening up and admitting I’d felt his help around the farm had been a sort of criticism. I told him I'd felt every time he helped, he was constantly telling me I didn’t measure up. He looked at me quizzically.

    “I’d sensed something.” He said matter-of-factly.

    “You see when you feed the cows a bale of hay, I feel you think I should have fed the cows a bale of hay the day before and I’m not really taking care of the cows the way I should. The same with cleaning the barn. I guess you could say I have a hard time accepting help. This drove many boyfriends away.” He nodded readily acknowledging how this might be a problem with just a little too much understanding. I ignored this most recent affront. “I’ll never forget one boyfriend telling me quite honestly, ‘Denise I know I’ll never be your hero.’ I guess, my injury, my leg has made me slow down. I can’t tell you how much your help has meant to me these past two weeks. I don’t know how I would have done it with out you.”

    “Your welcome.” He said with a grin. “You know as I’ve said before, this place isn’t a one man job or even a two man job. You really need Tom up here and help on top of that. How about if you feed in the morning and just know I’ll handle the evening. You don’t have to ask, we don’t have to arrange, you don’t have to confirm, just know I have it covered.” He offered magnanimously.

    “Thank you.” I said taking another big sip of the at least 3 point glass of wine.
     When dinner was finished, Alexis waved me away and paid the bill. He stood up and extended his hand. “I’m Alexis, it’s been nice to meet you.” He said warmly. I’d made a new friend.

February 3rd The Egg & I

  (Clara)

Clara, Clara, Clara, that’s all Henry and I talked about on the way to school. We discussed egg production and whether laying an egg hurt. We wondered if she honked when it came out or did something else. Henry had wanted to go out and see if she was sitting on her nest today, but we had to do all the morning chores, feeding the dogs, collecting the trumpet and picking up the dead bat Irish was using as a Frisbee™.

            “Mom, I’m worried she’s not going to take the egg. You know you used your robe. Now it smells like dog.”

            “Henry, she’s so used to us and the dogs, I don’t think she’s going to freak out. She’s far from wild.”

            “What are we going to do if she doesn’t sit on the egg?” He looked at me hopefully.

            “We’re not getting an incubator. We’d have to turn them and do all sorts of things, and frankly. If one egg doesn’t hatch, then one egg doesn’t hatch.”

            “You’re right. She’s supposed to have about ten right?”

(sunny snow cap with a layer of clouds while the mountain is shrouded in shadow - and people wonder why I don't mind the commute)

    Yes, and if all the girls lay, we’ll have forty goslings. I don’t have earplugs for that kind of noise. I don’t want to be the crazy goose lady of Mosquito Lake Road. “ I stated forcefully.

            “Mama?” He said in his con-artist-adorable-child-you-can’t-refuse-me-voice.

            “Yes?” I asked warily.

            “Can we keep one?” He looked at me with the boo-boo lip protruding, his eyes wide and watery leaning toward the car heater trying to absorb the heat. “Just one?”

            “Henry, we talked about this. We’re selling the goslings. We have eight snuggly geese.” Just then the phone rang. It was my dad confirming breakfast.

            “Lisa’s bringing Quinn. She has an orthodontist appointment she has to go to at 9:45AM so she’s not going to school first. ” He informed me. “So see you at Skylarks” he said and hung-up.

            “Henry, Grandpa's, leaving tomorrow for France and chances are he isn’t coming back for a year. Do you want to be late for school and come to breakfast with me? Lisa and Quinn are coming by, Lisa has to take Quinn to an orthodontist appointment so they can't stay for long.” I said as we sat at a stoplight.

            “Oh yeah, Quinn’s getting her braces off today! Uhh no, I saw Grandpa this weekend we went on a walk and if I went I’d miss band class. I think Grandpa would tell me I should go to band.” He said with surprising maturity.

("Mom, if I was a dog, I'd want Grandpa to be my owner. I'd always get treats" - Henry)

                                                            ***

(Grandpa Horn at his place in Bellingham)

             Clara was once again the topic of conversation at breakfast. “What are you going to do with these goslings?” Lisa asked. I knew she was expecting to chide me for keeping them. Or at least that’s what I thought.

“Some of them are pre-sold to a Doctor Trish Coffey. She’s been waiting for some goslings. She found me through Doctor Tom Walker. You see I have four good males and two good females. So I really don’t have to worry who the father is as long as the mother is Mabel or Clara.” I informed the table.

            “What the hell is a good goose?” My father demanded.

            “Pink bill, pink feet, correct eye color. Strong normal wings, with the appropriate markings and not too heavy.” I said as though I was a breeder of rare heritage Cotton Patch Geese.

            "Well, for Christsake it sound's it's a moral judgment."

            "She mean's they're flawed for the breed standard." Lisa added for clarification.

            “Denise! You have to keep one! You have to! You have to! Just one! A little fluff ball.” Quinn squealed.

            “Nope. I’m not keeping any geese Quinn. We have enough. One will mean two and then I have ten geese.”

            “And then she’ll be the crazy goose lady.” My psychic-twin chimed in.

            “Your mother’s right.”  I confirmed.

            After that, Lisa hustled off with Quinn, my dad and I ate our breakfast, chatted paid the bill and hugged good-bye.

(enjoying one last cup)

            “Be safe Daddy” I eeked out.

            “Ahh, I’ll email, it’ll be like I never left.” He said and turned and walked away.

(the girls along with Lloyd and Cleveland in the garden- Quackmire and Alfred decided to stay out)

            When I got home I saw Alexis had penned up all the girls in the flower garden as we discussed.  I was worried others might start building nests and we wouldn’t be able to find them. I knew the girls would be there, but I was surprised Clara was with them. I hobbled over using a branch I’d found as my farm cane. I wanted to chat with him about Clara and her egg. I had to know what was going on. Alexis opened the door as I teetered through my branch slipping on the floor. I made my way to a chair and he pointed to Clara’s egg on the table.

(my makeshift farm cane)

            “She just walked away from her nest this morning. She did bury the egg under the straw and went out with everyone else. So I brought it in here. I couldn’t reach you and I didn’t know what else to do.”

            “I’ve got a call into Tom Walker and an email so I’m sure we’ll hear soon.” We chatted some more about our plans for the geese. We decided to separate the girls further putting the “good girls” Clara and Mabel in one garden and the “bad girls” Ruthie and Matilda in the other so we didn’t have egg confusion. “Henry and I were talking on the way to school wondering what it might have been like when she laid the egg. You know, was she like a chicken squawking or honking of what?” I repeated.

            “I saw her lay the egg.” Alexis said. “She did it while I was starting to feed last night.”

            “You saw her, did she do anything?” I asked in amazement.

            “Well, she didn’t make any noise, but I did see some real booty action.” Alexis said with a smile as he helped me make my way down his steps. We agree he’d put the egg back this evening and we’d put dog carriers in the goose pen in case some of the other ladies needed to nest.

            When I got back in the house I checked my messages hoping Tom Walker had called. Nothing. The phone rang. Wrong Tom, well it was the right Tom, my Tom, but well anyway it was Pea.

            “I’m practically passing out cigars here at the office. We’re all excited. How big is it?” He said in a rush.

            “Well, I wouldn’t pass them out just yet. She’s not sitting on the nest. It is bigger than a chicken egg.”

(chicken egg and Clara's)

            “She’s not? Do you think the egg smelled like dog?” He accused.

            “That’s what Henry said. He wants to smear some of her poop on the egg to recapture her smell.” I relayed.

            “Might work, worth a try.” Tom concurred.

            “Lisa says some birds lay all their eggs and then sit on them so they hatch all at the same time. Kind of like getting everything ready and keeping it hot for Christmas Dinner. Hmm perhaps not the best analogy, but anyway I have a call in to Trish Coffey too about how many birds she wants.”

            “Are we going to keep one?” He asked expectedly.

            “That’s what Henry and Quinn want. You too?” I half asked, as I knew the answer.

            “Well yeah, actually we need a pair don’t we. I mean c’mon.”

            “You think I don’t want another fluff ball? But you know they’re goslings for about ten minutes. The darn things double in size while you blink. Then they’re geese and do we really need another pair of geese? And furthermore, they won’t be hand raised and so they might not be as snuggly.” I rationally pointed out.

            “We’ll see.” He said with a tone.

            I drove to pick Henry up and take him to the Fairhaven Barber Shop. We were late for his appointment so we said we’d come back in an hour. Seeing Lisa’s car a few spaces down we called to find out where she was. Turns out she, my dad and Annie were having coffee and the newly-naked-tooth Quinn was having ice cream over at Village Books. This is a small town. Naturally, we joined them for one last hurrah before Henry’s clipping. We sipped double shot non-fat latte's as we looked out on Bellingham Bay. The sun was shining and it felt warm through the window. Henry and Quinn licked their ice cream cones before they split a giant brownie. I wondered how many points they were consuming laughing to myself as I saw Quinn absently take her finger and rub it back and forth over her front teeth like a toothbrush. I guess she just liked the feel of her smooth pearly whites.

(Grandpa Horn, Quinn and her teeth and Henry)

            Dr. Walker finally called just after I dropped off Henry at gymnastics and right before my Weight Watcher meeting. I was relieved to hear his voice. The goose guru was going to impart his knowledge. He told me a myriad of information. It seems the geese have been off to the pond because they mate in water. They could have mated in the baby pond but it was frozen. Geese lay eggs every other day and won’t sit the nest until all the eggs are laid and then the “sit” is for thirty days. Clara should lay nine to eleven eggs. He did have one who laid fourteen but this was highly unusual. I was right to separate her out and keep her with Lloyd. He praised us for keeping the girls penned in, as we would truly be on an egg hunt if we didn’t take precautions. He suggested that if the temperatures dipped below freezing that we take the eggs inside and leave fool-her eggs. He had wooden ones, but chicken eggs would do. Then when she’s laid all the eggs and is sitting we should replace them. In the meantime we should keep the eggs cool not warm. He reassured me the eggs were hardy and not to worry. I thanked him and told him I would no doubt call again. He gave me his cell.

            My first call was to Alexis, as he needed to know how to handle the nursery, then Tom, because he was calling every twenty minutes. Finally, I called Lisa and relayed what I’d been told.

               “So they need water?” She asked in her analytical science voice.

“Yes, I guess they could have used the baby pool, but it was frozen.”

“Frozen water, huh now that’s a birth control you don’t hear about much.” I laughed. She was a doctor, but she was my sister.

“I guess, I’ll need those dog pens back I loaned you, the ones I used for the geese when they were little. I’m going to need to separate all the pairs soon.”

“OK I’ll get them and give them to you tomorrow. Hey do you still have the oyster shells you got for Alfred?”

“Oh yeah, they said they were for laying geese. I’d forgotten.”

“They’re excellent for egg production. So put some out there.” She insisted. Another farm first for me, I was now giving pre-natal care to geese.

(Henry with the oyster shells)

(Miracle and the goats want to know what's happening and why we woke them up)

  (Henry pouring oyster shells)     

    (Lloyd protecting his family)

            

February 2nd The Honeymooners

(Lloyd at the front door)

Lloyd and I have always been close. He’s the one to sit right next to me when I’m doing a project. The one who never leaves my side. In fact, the other day when I was on the phone, I heard a rat-a-tat-tat at the door. And when I opened it I was completely surprised to see Lloyd had come to pay me a call. Climbing up the steps of the porch and waddling across to the floor he’d tried to eat the door. I was flattered and tempted to let my little buddy in, but he has absolutely no poop control, hence the expression “ shit through a goose”, not to mention the cat’s reaction. I didn’t think it was a precedent I wanted to set. The next thing you know, Miracle will be taking a nap on the sofa. How that differs much from Irish in reality I’m not sure, but my instincts and my sister’s voice in my head said “No Denise.”  I laughed at the thought of Emmett he might have had a breakdown if he saw Lloyd in the house. After all, the ultimate humiliation for a cat must be being chased by a bird.

(Lloyd takes his best shot)

(geese having fun at the pond)

(our Lloyd)

(Lloyd is independent now, but still loves me)

(Lloyd a real cutie)

I was worried for a while Lloyd was disassociating with the gaggle.  However, with his recent burst of independence I’ve relaxed. He’s been attentive and fiercely protective of them.  Of course, after the leech incident on his eye, he’s back in my thoughts front and center.

Henry went out today to help Alexis with the geese, put them away and check for leeches. Before he went out he was wondering if there was some way Lisa could tell if the leech had caused damage to Lloyd’s eye. I’d told him I’d asked a similar question and she said she really didn’t cover goose vision and the effects of leeches in vet school. Smart-ass.  But she did say she didn’t think it would have caused any real damage. However, when Henry came running in the house out of breath I was a little alarmed.

“Mama, it’s the geese!” He came running up the stairs to my bedroom.

“What now?” I asked on the phone with Tom.

“There’s a nest, Clara’s made a nest and she and Lloyd won’t come in the barn.”

“Where’s the nest?” I asked completely shocked. Things were suddenly happening so fast. I’d just gotten used to the idea they were growing up and suddenly I’m a grandmother.

“Underneath the Kubota barn near the silo.” Henry explained.

“Well, we’ve got to move her, she can’t stay out there. She won’t make it nor will her eggs. Has she laid any eggs?” I asked doubtfully. I’d seen them earlier waddling around. Certainly, this was just the nesting stage. I hung up  grabbed a crutch starting to make my way down the stairs. “Mama, you don’t have to go outside. Alexis and I can handle it.”

“Do you think I’m going to miss this? You’re kidding right. I need to see Clara and the proud papa.” I insisted as I moved from one stair to another. With Henry acting as my human crutch, I slowly made my way across the yard to Clara.  There she was looking demure and motherly just like in a picture book. She gazed up at us for a while and I reached down to pet her. Then she went back to finishing her nest pulling weeds around her. She was going to be a mama. Lloyd had excellent taste, she is a Cotton Patch beauty. Her bill a soft petal pink, just like her feet with just a hint of a white surrounding her bill. Her wings were lovely and strong.

(Clara nests)

(Alexis and Papa)

Alexis prepared the the little workroom in the barn, the one formerly inhabited by the frog who lived on the refrigerator door, with straw, food and water. I tried to pick her up forgetting my injury for a moment and then stopped. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t straighten up. But in the process, I disturbed her enough for her to stand up. We were all stunned to actually find – an egg. Spring it seems is coming fast and furious; so much for Punxatawny Phil. Alexis carried her safely to the barn while I carefully picked up the warm egg in my flannel robe.

(Clara in her new nest with her egg)

(Miracle watches) 

(The goats eat non-plussed by the event)

(Henry helps secure the gate for Lloyd and Clara and the baby)

(Clara not warming up to her egg right away)

We took a small gate we had and propped it up so the two lovebirds were tucked in for the night together in the Honeymoon Suite.

Clara didn’t go right over and sit on the egg, which really upset Henry who was worried she was going to reject it now that we’d moved her and the egg.

“I bet she’ll settle down, once we turn out the lights and leave the barn.” I said reassuringly.

“I hope so.” Henry said doubtfully. I did too, as Templeton and his rotten goose egg antics came to mind.

February 1st Twist & Shout

 (you never know what's coming)

The last twenty-four hours have been a doozey. The weekend started with Henry forgetting to fix his hair, put in his contacts, bring his gym bag with his grips and white socks for the meet. I was completely annoyed, but I guess I have to take some responsibility for not checking more thoroughly. As one of my friends said, “He’s only eleven” an excuse that completely annoyed me. I don’t know maybe she’s right. Which annoys me all the more. I think Henry should be able to brush his teeth in the morning, but perhaps my expectations are too high.

Left to his own devices he believes cleaning his room means stuffing everything either under the bed or in the closet. And honestly, I have to admit I’m not a shining example. Oh I can clean, but I hate routine. As everyone knows.

 (a little blurry - Jesse Keltner and Henry)

Anyway, the meet was fairly innocuous, except for Henry’s pommel score. He seems to have finally figured out what he was doing wrong and got his highest score yet. Nothing to write home about, but he and I were thrilled. As was Tom who insisted I call after every event. It was Mike’s birthday and although neither one of us was feeling flush, he came to the meet so we could sit in the stands for 3 hours, have coffee watch Henry and spend some time together.

 (Mike with the new Spring fashions)

            Henry and I talked most the way home about trying to get a new routine in our lives. We agreed baby steps were the way to go if we were going to make any long lasting changes.

Still chatting about midnight when we went to bed, Henry slept in my room with Irish, Vivian, Luther, Emmett, Bruno and Alvin. Only Katie-Scarlet and Deli remained downstairs snuggled up in the family room. We lay there talking when I heard a noise outside. Irish and Bruno heard it too as they came unwrapped. Barking and searching for the source of the noise they ran downstairs to the sunroom to see outside. I opened my window and peered out into the darkness at the pasture expecting to see a raccoon. The cows were stirring and gave a moo here and there. I waited as the dogs barked. Nothing moved. I surveyed the shadows. Nothing. So I closed the window and went back to bed yelling to Irish everything was OK.  Bruno quieted down without too much convincing, but Irish kept going. Suddenly, I heard him scream and yelp. Fearing he’d hurt himself, I flew down the stairs in my fuzzy socks. Note to self, do not attempt sudden movements on stairs in fuzzy socks. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I turned my leg and felt a pop in my right calf. The pain was immense spreading through my leg as I called out and I fell against the wall. Adrenaline flowing I kept going to Irish’s aid. He can’t talk, so I’ll never know exactly what happened.

 (my fuzzy socks Annie gave me for Christmas a couple of years ago - great for cold winter nights_

Irish and I both hobbled up the stairs to an anxious Henry. I could barely breathe. Henry kept firing off questions asking me if I was all right, but I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t put my foot down. So Henry just held my hand while I  stood next to the bed for a long time trying to manage the pain. Slowly I crawled into bed. Henry has the gift of gab and immediate sleep, just like his father who can fall asleep in mid-sentence. It must be a male trait, because I once dated a guy who could fall asleep during a fraternity party and Mike has actually started snoring while I’m on the phone with him. Perhaps this is more a commentary on my company than their need for rest, I’m not sure.

I lay there for a long time struggling with the pain, before I called anyone. First, I called Tom, but he was very sleepy. I knew I couldn’t call Lisa because she was going skiing in the morning. Finally, I called Mike. I knew he’d be awake and of course, he was. He suggested I take some Advil™; a reasonable suggestion if I could walk. Next, he suggested I wake Henry. I laughed a strained laugh “have you forgotten the USC marching band could walk through his room and he wouldn’t wake up.”

“Just give it a try you need the medication.” He insisted. So I did as I was told. I shook him and I yelled his name. I pinched him and I almost pushed him out of the bed. But he’s fallen off a bunk bed and not woken up so I didn’t see the point. Mike suggested water in his face, but I’d forgotten to put a glass by my bedside.

“Mike, even if he gets up and some how makes it down stairs to get the Advil™ I think he’ll just lie down on the floor and that will be the last I see of our hero.”

“You’re probably right."So I did without the medication, propped my leg up on a pillow to keep it elevated and waited for sleep; wondering how this was going to work. How was I going to clean out the barn in the morning? I knew I wasn’t going  to clean out the barn in the morning. I knew I wasn’t gong to be able to move for days, maybe weeks.

When I woke up, the pain had subsided some, but not a lot. I couldn’t put any weight on it. Henry redeemed himself with a smile and a hot cup of coffee “For the Mama” He said.

He went to the barn and fed the animals letting the geese out, but when he got back he was frantic. “Something’s wrong with the geese. Cleveland’s bleeding and it looks like Lloyd is missing his eye.”

“What? I can’t come down there. Are you sure?”

“I’ll take a picture.” He came back with the camera “I think I was hallucinating about Lloyd, he looks ok after all.” I looked at the pictures and made the presumption the geese might be fighting as they were getting increasingly aggressive due to the mating season. As any woman can tell you, testosterone is always trouble. I decided to put a call in to Tom Walker on how to handle them.

 (bloody Cleveland)

My dad drove out from town with an ace bandage and a microwaveable heating pad.  The heat was fantastic. I don’t think I’ve had it off my leg for ten minutes since I got it.  I just yell, “HENNNNNNRyyyyyy” and he comes a hippity-hopping up the stairs. He said he thinks he might be turning into Norman Bates because I’m so demanding. This cultural education is coming back to bite me in the Miracle.

 (I love this)

As for the barn, Alexis told me he’d take care of everything. He’d put away the geese and feed the animals until further notice. He instructed me to say thank you and not to argue and not to remind him and not to worry. This I find is a challenge for me. It is hard for me to accept help. I feel guilty needing people to take care of me.  I realize at the moment, I have no choice. Perhaps this is a lesson I’m meant to learn.

The remainder of the day was spent watching television. It is Super Bowl Sunday, but I only briefly watched the game. Mostly, I caught up on some “All My Children” and a couple of “Crusoe” with Henry.

I saw Alexis make his way to the barn as promised. A few moments later he was at the door beckoning Henry, something about the geese. The next thing I know Henry and Alexis are at the window with Lloyd in their arms. I thought they just wanted him to cheer me up, when I heard something about him not having an eye again or it was swollen. I couldn’t catch everything as I struggled off the sofa to the window on Mike’s old crutches he’d left in the garage. Just as I got to them, they both took a terrified gasp.  “It fell off!” Alexis said.

(some of the wallpaper I haven't gotten rid of yet and Mike's crutches)

“His eye fell off?” Henry asked.

“I don’t know.” Alexis answered.  I was completely confused trying to look Lloyd in the face. Was he missing an eye? Was he blind?

“It’s moving!” Henry yelled “Look it’s moving.”

“His eye?” Alexis questioned. “The eye is moving?”

“It’s not an eye, it’s a parasite.” Henry said. “I think it’s a leech. Look his eye is there, but it’s all bloody.” Sure enough Henry was right. The leech had completely covered Lloyd’s eye and was sucking him dry

I made my way to the kitchen as quickly as I could and got a plastic bag to put it in. “Maybe we should show it to Lisa.” I said.

(Lisa's leech specimen)

“Yeah, she loves all that gross stuff.” Henry concurred.

“I guess, he got it at the pond.” I figured.

“Yep. We’ll just have to start checking them before we put them away.” Alexis said.

“That must have been what I saw this morning. I’m glad I’m not crazy.” We both just looked at him.

“Ok, so I’m crazy, just not because of that.” Henry stated.

“You go back to the sofa Denise. I got things covered.” Alexis reminded me as he walked away.

“Leeches! Yuck.” I said.

“Can I squish it?” Henry asked with an eleven-year-old gleam in his eye.

“No!” I said emphatically.

“You know they still use leeches in medicine.” Henry countered "7 kinds are used in medicine."

“I didn't know you were a leech aficionado. I know they're useful. Ducks eat 'em. But they didn’t do much for George Washington.” I said flatly. "He would have recovered from his illness. He only bled to death only because of leeches."

"That sucks." Henry smirked.

 

January 28th Independence Day

  (Mama - Denise and itty-bitty baby Henry - note polished nails - on Denise not Henry)

     When you’re pregnant, you can’t wait for the ultra sound, the kicking and finally the delivery. When Henry was born I was always wishing for the next thing. He’d turn over and I couldn’t wait for him to crawl. He crawled and I was anticipating his first steps. I suppose it’s normal, but ultimately I didn’t savor the moment quite like I should have. While you’re in the diaper stage it seems like forever, but once it’s over you realize it went by in a blink.

    I received a letter from Tom Walker a couple of weeks ago, informing me mating season for geese was upon us, but like the mother of a middle-schooler I was in denial. After all my geese weren’t showing any signs of such falderal. Until now.

    My babies, the goslings, who arrived as downy chirping fluff balls; the little peepers who took their first swim in my bathtub; the ones so afraid of the pond we had to get them the blue plastic baby pool; the very same emotionally dependent foul who couldn’t be ten feet away from me when I was laying the cement walkway all summer; who supervised the painting of the house and couldn’t wait to put themselves to bed at night, are growing up.

(Cleveland with a bit of lettuce)

(Vivian and baby Quackmire)

(Henry and cuddly goslings)

(Henry teaches the geese to fly)

(Geese supervise house painting project)

   I came out the front door not expecting today to be any different than any other day. The clouds hung thick in the sky devoid of sun. It was time to feed, grain and put the geese away in the barn. I looked around but didn’t see any of them. I listened. Nothing, not a sound of them thwap, thwap, thwapping their webbed feet on the cement or any honking at the sound of my “Hey, hey Little Geese, Little Geese!” I stood on the porch a moment looking around. And then I heard them way off in the distance. I squinted and could see flapping and honking water flying. They were cavorting like college freshman absent the beer. I couldn’t believe it. Somehow they'd gotten it in their bird brains to go to the pond completely on their own. I called again and started walking quickly out to the pond to see exactly what was going on as any mother would. But, at the sound of my voice the party was over. Obediently, my little ones lined up and headed home with Lloyd leading the way.

(On the waddle when Mama calls)

    It’s the life I’d dreamed for them. I’d hoped they would go to the pond during the day enjoying their afternoons swimming and preening grazing on lush green grass. Coming home in the evenings to be tucked safely into the warm barn. This, then, was a dream come true. And I was thrilled albeit taken aback at this sudden burst of independence. I watched them waddle toward me. I worried about their vulnerability as they crossed the pasture. These were my babies. I could see Alfred, who had to go to the vet so many times for x-rays and daily supplements, when he was just a few weeks old. He still limps, but he was waddling with the rest of them. Sure he was lagging behind a bit. I couldn’t help but smile proudly. I felt like he’d caught the third out in the World Series. There was Matilda, with double Angel wing and an orange bill; not a prize goose, but the first to honk and be heard. Quackmire, the smallest their surprise leader. Clara and Mabel always sweet and docile turned out to be real lookers. And then there was Ruthie always a bit of a follower, the Shirley to Matilda’s Laverne. In the lead was my special sweetie, Lloyd. My cuddle bug has become quite a good-looking gander, a fierce protector of the gaggle.

(Lloyd mugging for the camera)

    I thought about my lectures to Henry as I let him learn to stretch his wings walking alone in Fairhaven with his friends. I wanted to protect them. They were easy pick'ns for Karen, the cougar, or some hungry pack of coyotes.  The answer I suppose is I can’t. I have to let them grow up.

December 18th When You Give A Cow A Cookie

    (Needs the shutters Pea!)

    When Pea called this morning I dreaded poking a toe out of my warm covers. I slipped on my wool socks raced downstairs pushed the button for the coffee and turned up the temperature from 56 to 64 degrees and ran back to bed for another hour. Today school was delayed again so we had plenty of time to take care of the animals, load the waffle project and the waffle iron into the car and get to school on time. The drive was dicey once we got to Mt. Baker Hwy. Large puffy flakes were beginning to fall fast and furious the closer we got to Bellingham.

    Henry excitedly bid me goodbye as he happily marched off to present his project. I met up with Lisa and Annie and together we ran to get Henry’s new glasses from the optometrist then to Trader Joes™ for some necessities. Actually, I did have to select foods that require little water or clean up as we’re going on day 4 with frozen pipes.
(From what I hear this could this be Trader Joes in Malibu - instead of Bellingham)

    Chris called Lisa while we were grabbing some lunch and said, “If Denise wants to get home tonight she better get going. People are leaving work now if they live in Sudden Valley and that’s not as far as Denise has to go.”

    “Really? Henry has a horn lesson after school, I guess I’ll just call Kevin and cancel it.” I said more to myself than anyone else.

    “Actually, look around you. I think we should pick the kids up now. That guy over there tried to take a left at 35mph. It’s not going to be safe in an hour or two.” We all agreed it was probably the prudent move.

    After Henry piled in the car yapping excitedly about the waffle party his teacher agreed to on Friday we didn’t get two miles before we had to pull over and put chains on.
(Henry and I master the snow conditions)

(Middle schoolers enjoying the weather)
(Bellingham under a blanket of snow)

(along Mt. Baker Hwy)

(Church in Deming)

(Snowmobiling down Mosquito Lake Road)

    The ride home was slow, but uneventful – until we discovered one of the chains had snapped. The other snapped in the driveway leaving me unable to get up the hill. So Alexis and I used our tried and true tractor-rescue method and got the Odyssey up near the barn.

(pulling with the chain and Jeep again)

    It snowed and it snowed and it snowed. In the morning a sparkling white blanket covered everything transforming it into a winter wonderland. All the animals were fine, but the geese opted for spending the day in the barn.

(back to bed)

(Henry pulling down snow from a tree limb)

    Henry and I decided to go sledding and take a walk with the dogs to the pond. So I released the hounds even Deli. And about as predictably as you can get she was gone up Cougar Hill without one Disney-look back over her shoulder Irish was right behind her. I picked up Rat-bat dog, Bruno and sent Luther back into the house for fear they’d follow Deli, never to be seen again.
(Rat-bat-dog "Bruno", Vivian and Luther enjoy the snow)

(Deli takes off)
(Bruno is about as tall as the snow is deep)

(Irish gets his freedom)

(And there she goes)

    Vivian stayed with us and had a great time. We fooled around at the pond checking out the lone Canada goose honking sadly for his or her gaggle. I think it was left behind because of a bum wing. We decided to bring it some food tomorrow.

(If you look closely to the right in the water is the Canada Goose)

(Vivian the snow monster)

    On the way back, Abe got annoyed we weren’t delivering grain or cookies and despite the board Alexis put up he bust through the feeder right as Henry threw a snowball at him. 

(And out he comes through the feeder- Abe)

(From the pasture - our winter wonderland)

(Abe in search of cookies)

Abe high-tailed it to the barn because he now knows where I keep the cookies. After a little playtime with Henry and a snack he went back to the pasture happily. Or so we thought, just as he was about to go through the gate you could just about see the light bulb go off in his head as he remembered the cookies in the barn. He spun around and trotted right back up the hill to the bag. He was in the barn and had his head buried in the bag when I got there. He had a couple more cookies and went in for the night.
(Abe gets his snack)

(Henry plays tug of war with Abe- Abe wins)

(Henry and his cookie loving cow)

    Henry took a few runs on the Cougar Hill sled run. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon grooming it and wanted to take a few more runs while I fed the animals. As he was finishing up who should come meandering back after four hours but our canine Lewis & Clark.
(Cougar Hill - formerly known as Coyote Hill)

December 15th Clothes Horse?

(our first snowfall this winter - the house in need of the black plank shutters Tom is going to make when he "has time")

    I woke up this morning to find that, due to extreme cold, all Bellingham Schools had been delayed two hours. I looked at the temperature: 7 degrees, much colder than we ever got last year. I began to worry about the animals. Really worry. If it’s 7 degrees now, how cold was it last night? Would they all be alive this morning? I know they’re animals and, except for the geese, none of them go south for the winter, but this was an extreme drop in temperature. I thought of the geese huddled together. Were they like penguins, taking turns being on the outside of the huddle?

    Riley is over a year old now, but would the goats be able to withstand such a drop? They weren’t dressed in wool like the lambs. I wasn’t too worried about the lambs, as their wool has come in nicely since the shearing. And what of Miracle? None of the other animals snuggle with her. True, she has more body mass, but 7 degrees?

    I went to make some coffee and call Lisa. Certainly, she’d have some thoughts on the subject. She’d tell me not to worry – I thought. I turned on the faucet and, after a stutter and hiccup, a tiny trickle came out and then stopped. Our pipes had frozen. My mind reeled. This had so many ramifications. I couldn’t make coffee. No coffee and no shower, when I more than desperately needed a shower yesterday. It’s not often I do my hair for the cows, but I do try to stay within social norms. Good thing it’s hat weather. Frozen pipes? No coffee? We’d turned on the light and even added a heater to the pump house. No coffee? The pipes must be frozen somewhere else. I worried again about who would be alive in the barn when I got there. I didn’t want to go. I stalled, went upstairs and woke Henry, preparing him for what I might find in the barn.
(not much snow, but blue skies and cold, cold, cold)

    Lisa had cautioned me about the importance of the animals'  water. She warned me that the temperature has to be brought up somewhat or they won’t drink enough, even if they can. “After all, who likes to drink ice water when they’re freezing?” she said practically. I’d brought a bucket in last night to heat up some water and take it to the barn to warm up their water. Seeing as the faucets weren’t working, I went to the toilet tank. I took off the lid and started bailing out water with a mason jar. I heated the water on the stove in my cast iron pot, while I rooted around the house until I found a discarded cup of coffee from yesterday. Tossing it in the microwave, I threw on Pea’s red robe with the tattered tie, slipped into my blue duck boots, put on my brown leather rain hat with the chin strap (the one Wayne calls my “Indiana Jones” hat), and made my way out to the barn with my stale, but steaming, cup of coffee in one hand and my bucket of boiling water in the other. I was trudging along just about at the chicken coop when I heard the glorious sound of Miracle braying “Good Morning”. She was alive! Relief went through me and I walked a little quicker.
(Angus, Sheryl and Mildred getting their fleece back)

(Apache wants attention)

    Once inside, I began counting animals and was relieved to find everyone alive, though sluggish from the cold. Their water buckets had more than an inch of ice. I couldn’t imagine how cold it must have been. The geese’s metal water dispenser was a solid ice cube. I shuddered at the night they must have had. Animals might be able to survive like this, but these are my babies, my responsibility. I couldn’t stand it. Money or no money, they weren’t going to spend another night like this.

     Chipping away at the ice layer until it was clear, I poured the boiling water into the water bucket. Then I fed everyone and went down to the pasture to give Abe, Andy and Anna an extra serving of grain. Before we left for school I wrote Alexis a short note explaining the water situation. We were going to have to do something because the animals needed more water and I draw the line for their well-being at Evian. A bucket brigade from the pond was the most obvious solution

(loafing shed for cattle)

    After I dropped Henry off, I met up with Lisa and we headed to the feed store. We were lucky enough to find a water heater for the cows' 200-gallon tank and a smaller one for the barn animals, but I’d have to change their water bucket. We realized I still had the big black tub the goslings used when they lived in Henry’s room. While I was at the register, Lisa started looking for dog collars and I struck up a conversation with the gum-chewing, blue eye-shadowed girl who was ringing me up. I told her how worried I was about the goats, despite what everyone said. She looked up sheepishly, and said, “I just bought my Nubian a coat.”

    “You did!? Where did you get it? I wanted to get coats for my goats last winter, but everyone laughed at me.”

    “Me, too, but I feel better. Mine are pets. I got it here. A lady came in and said she’d bought a dog coat and it fit her goat. So I bought mine and it fit even my Boer. What do you have?”

    “Oberhasli. Nubians are kind of small. My son, Henry, wanted a Nubian. He thought they were dolls.”

    “They are,” she agreed authoritatively.

    “But Boers are big. Which aisle?” I queried. She pointed me in the correct direction and, after her next customer, came over and helped Lisa and me sort through the coats. Once we’d determined the appropriate sizes, there was the matter of color. I simply couldn’t put Alexander in pink; he’s already a wether and I don’t think his ego could take it.

    After purchasing my wares, Lisa and I parted company as she headed off to Costco and I hit two more feed stores looking for a coat for Miracle and something to give the geese water. After finding both items lickety-split at Laurel Feed Supply, I shoehorned in a conversation at the register about possibly piggy-backing an order of Silver Dorking and Black Java chicks and maybe a couple of turkey poults with theirs. The woman said she’d look into it and took my number. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
(Alexis - heaven sent - on water patrol)

    I raced home with my packages, eager to get everything set up. When I got there, Alexis was already bringing pond water to the barn in 5-gallon buckets in his trusty Jeep™. He filled up the new water container for the goats, sheep and Miracle, while I unloaded the feed, set up the water heaters and screwed the hook in place to position the geese’s new, heated bucket snugly between two studs. (the water heater assembled. Gray protective coating around wiring - cage around heating element - so plastic buckets won't melt)

(the transferring of water)
(cows' water trough with new heater)

(cord heats up entire bucket)

    Finally, it was time to dress the goats. I started with Rachel; she’s the queen and, if she does it, the rest are more likely to follow along. Her coat fit pretty well, if a tad tight around the girth. Other than that, she didn’t seem to mind it at all. Next came Christina, then Alexander and finally Riley. Alexander bucked a couple of times, but a few packer pellets calmed him right down.

(Riley in his orange coat to match his collar)

(three goats in coats - Rachel pink, Riley orange and Alexander red)
(Alexander)

(the sheep - Apache, Angus, Mildred and Sheryl - and the geese opt for natural fibers to keep warm)

    Imagine, if you will, trying to get a spooked, stubborn little girl to try on something she doesn’t want to. Now, imagine she can beat you up. At first, Miracle ran from the coat. I put it down on the snow and walked away as if she weren’t there. She came up and sniffed it. I came back. It was a few times around the pen before she let me slide it over her back. Hooking it was going to be another matter entirely. I was nervous. I didn’t want her to launch one of her missiles in my direction. So, I stood there talking to her. “Shhh, Miracle, it’s ok. I’m just going to hook this around your tummy. It’s not going to hurt. It’s going to keep you warm. I’m just going to tighten up your belt so it hangs properly. Purple actually looks very nice on you. You must be a winter because you look stunning in true red. You look lovely. No, it doesn’t make you look fat at all. Don’t be an ass.” I got all the hooks done except the last one. I was supposed to hook it under her tail. Seriously. Under her tail. This is a little like “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”.  Well, if she was longer it would go under her bell, but she isn't, so I slowly and gently pulled her tail up as if I were dealing with nitroglycerin. I moved delicately. All the while, Miracle was holding her hoof ready to kick out if things didn’t feel right. Luckily, she looks swanky in her royal purple blanket and I don’t have any bruises to show for it. (Miracle prancing around with her price tag on like she's Minnie Pearl)

(the challenge)

(Miracle - wondering if she looks like an ass?)

(I 'm alive; I win!)

    When everyone had their jammies on, I went to get Henry to shuttle him to gymnastics and buy 17 gallons of water. My phone rang. It was Mike.

    "Did you get the water taken care of?" he asked, concerned.

    "Yes, and I got the goats some coats and fed the cows some oats," I unwittingly rhymed.

    "What?"

    "I said, I got the goats some coats," I repeated.

    "That's what I thought you said. I couldn't believe my ears. I never imagined you got the goats coats. I thought It sounded like you were reciting a Dr. Seuss." We both laughed. I guess it did.

    When we got home, I microwaved some of the water to wash my face and poured the rest over my head in the sink to wash my hair. I had forgotten that the water had sat for three hours in cold storage in my car. Ruing I hadn’t microwaved more water, I stood in the bathroom wondering how long this was going to last. I eyed the bathtub. We could heat up the kettle and fill the bathtub. The colonists stank up all thirteen colonies since they rarely bathed. Perhaps I'm being historical.

December 12th, 13th & 14th Much Ado About Nothing

(Pea in his tree beard from the Christmas party - and, yes, those are presents hanging down - I still prefer the candy cane beard of years past - but an ok entry)

      My hands stiff from the cold and covered in mud from mucking the stalls, I called Tom to ask his opinion about something. There was laughter on the other end of the phone as he talked to other people in his office. They were regaling each other with tales of  last night's Christmas party. I imagined them warm and dry, dressed in nice clothes, eating bagels with cream cheese, drinking coffee. I longed to climb through the phone line and sit down with them for just a few cups.

     Here, the last several days we’ve had predictions of a mammoth-sized blizzard. So Wayne, Alexis and I have been trying to get everything in place to be ready. Alexis built the generator shed so we could use the generator and keep it out of the elements. Wayne brought in wood and I prepared the barn, putting in extra bedding for all the animals.
  (Voila! The new generator shed. Ok - it needs painting, but it's too cold for paint)

(Wayne and Alexis heave the generator into place)

    To make double dog sure the pipes wouldn’t freeze I unscrewed the door on the pump house and  installed a new light, which is usually enough to keep the pipes warm. Alexis got panes to replace the broken ones in the barn windows, so the 60mph winds we were expecting wouldn’t blow through the place.

(the well's pump house - ok, ok, ok it needs paint, too, and shingles and the junk taken away)

(loafing shed with straw)

    We took straw down to the cows' loafing shed as frozen ground isn’t too comfortable or warm. We also spread straw across the hayloft as a bit of insulation. In general, we felt pretty prepared.

    All that being done, I bought supplies and invited the girls to spend the night. We thought we’d make a fire, finish the Christmas tree and watch a double feature; then go inner tubing down Cougar Hill (formerly known as Coyote Hill) in the morning.

(Our homespun Christmas tree with its lights on - Quinn said it looked like a tree in a magazine article on how to do something "different" for Christmas)

(Henry falls asleep on Irish)

     We waited, we watched, we peeked out the windows, but no snow, no wind, nothing. We finally went to bed after watching "Roxanne" with Steve Martin and “Somewhere In Time” with Christopher Reeve. In the morning I looked out the window expecting a white glistening blanket. Still nothing. 

     All day we waited. Henry worked on a report for science. He had to research how a machine works, learn the history of the machine and demonstrate its operation.  Baker-boy chose the waffle maker. About 4:00 snow started fluttering down, swirling around in the air, some of it sticking to the ground. By morning, we expected a thick blanket of glistening white. But no.
(Henry works on his waffle project)

    It’s true the next morning we had snow, all right, but only about an inch and a half. Weeds stuck up out of the snow, marring my Bing Crosby-type expectations. Nonetheless, when I went to the barn I eagerly opened the goose pen. This was the first snowfall for Lloyd, Mabel, Clara, Cleveland, Quackmire, Matilda, Ruthie and Alfred. I opened the barn doors wide and waited. They looked outside and just stood there, honking. I led the way, but they just stood there, still honking. I called them “Hey, hey, hey, little geese, hey, hey, hey”. They perked up, knowing Mama was calling. Out they came, stomping around with their built-in snowshoes. One, two, three steps and they all sat down. They didn’t like it. They didn’t like it at all. I called them again. “Hey, hey, hey, little geese, little geese!” They perked up, looking for me, and once again got up and, “thwap, thwap, thwap,” they plodded along on their silly feet. And then they sat down. Surprised, I walked back into the barn and fed the rest of the critters. As I was throwing a flake of hay over the top of the wall, aiming for the feeder across the room in an attempt to save a trip into the pen and reassure myself I could still sink one, I practically tripped over eight good-for-nothing geese too afraid to stay outside. But I still made it – two points.

(the little geese see their first snowfall)

  (Cleveland makes tracks)

(everyone tracks)
(the boys - white - and the girls - gray)

(Clara gets some height!)

(more sitting)

    I walked out to the pasture. Beyond the gate, where the dog tracks stopped there was undisturbed beautiful snow. I found the cow dishes and filled them with a healthy amount of grain. Extra calories equal extra heat during a cold night, which reminds me of those Campbell’s soup commercials where a fairly short snowman walks into a kitchen, sits down, takes a spoonful of soup and quickly melts into a kid. As I leaned over the fence to place Anna’s portion on the ground, I noticed some tracks. They looked like big kitty cat tracks. Upon closer inspection, I noticed they wound around the pasture from Cougar Hill. Creepy and cool at the same time.
(Karen?)

    The geese roamed around the yard during the day, finding any patch of land not covered with ice or snow. The big babies. We never felt any wind and were pretty sure this non-event of a blizzard was a bust, but it did get cold, colder-than-it’s-gotten-in-18-to-20-years cold. I lay in bed at night hearing mooing in the pasture. “Moooooo Moooooooooo, Mooooooo.” I knew Abe was calling me, but I was not going out in the pasture in the middle of the night in the cold, in the snow, alone. If Mike or Tom or my father had been here I’d have woken one of them up and dragged them down there with me, but as it was I wasn’t going alone. I thought of Laura Ingalls. In the book about her husband Alfonso’s childhood, she told of them getting up in the middle of the night to roust the cows, running them around to elevate their body temperatures. I knew something was wrong. Abe only moos when there’s trouble. Maybe he was cold; maybe there was a cougar. I began to worry, but decided if it was between Abe and me. I was going to have to pick me. I tossed and turned for a long time, trying to force myself back to sleep.

    In the morning, I boiled water on the stove, filled up buckets and took them out to the barn. As cold as the night had been, I knew that, even if their water buckets weren’t frozen, the water would be frigid and the animals wouldn’t drink as much as they should. Just as I got about halfway there, I heard “Clippity-Clop Clippity-Clop Moo Clippity-Clop Clippity-Clop Moo”.  Abe came trotting up the hill mooing loudly, “I'm out of the pasture! I was out all night.You didn’t come get me and I can’t get back in. Let me back in! I want to go back in!”

   Well, I told him, “You’re just going to have to wait until I feed everyone else and then I’ll put you in.” He did, indeed, wait patiently outside the barn by the garden, blowing his hot breath on the snow that covered his whiskers with ice. I walked him down to the pasture with a bucket of grain. I took a look at the cows' water trough; it was the most frozen I’d ever seen it. I took a stick a la Wally and began stabbing at the frozen water, hoping I wouldn’t find George or Max, the Koi, frozen inside a chunk.  Although it comforted me to remember the lady at the shop said they could live through being frozen in a chunk of ice, I still had to be mindful not to throw them away. I was shocked to find the ice over 2” thick.  My thoughts drifted back to the Ingalls’ Ice House as I pulled chunks of ice out of the trough. The weather is supposed to stay this cold or colder for a week or more.

(ice from the top of the water trough)

November 8th Shadow Of A Doubt

(The Red Baron - Irish wearing protective eyewear)

    I woke up to a wet nose being shoved into my eye socket. Sleepily, I reached my hand out to snuggle the baby giant. This would be Irish’s one and only attempt to wake me before he peed a puddle the size of one of the Great Lakes - infamously known in our house as ”Lake Irie”. Despite the dark morning, this is motivation, as I go through Costco packs of paper towels like other people use milk. I opened one eye and peered at the clock - 5:30AM. Reluctantly, I threw back the covers, slipped my feet into my fuzzy slippers, threw on Pea’s tattered, but warm red robe and shuffled down the stairs. Opened the front door and put Irish on the porch before going back to bed for another hour of sleep.

    Still dark at 7:00AM in the Pacific Northwest. I finally got out of bed and forced myself to go outside and feed the barn animals before taking the time to brew my coffee. I felt selfless, virtuous and proud of myself. As I was about to open the barn door I saw a humongous print.

(paw print by barn)

    I wondered what animal had been so close to the barn. I opened the barn doors and released the geese. Honking and flapping, they made their way outside, only to turn around - as they often do - wondering what’s taking me so long. They all came back inside to watch me let the goats, sheep and Miracle out of their pens, but they lost interest as I went about separating flakes and feeding the four-footed animals.

    I was dutifully filling up the goats' water when I heard the geese begin shrieking. Dropping the hose, I ran across the rocky driveway, struggling to keep my slippers on by curling my toes and holding the red robe up so I wouldn’t trip as I awkwardly tromped.

    Irish was off the porch and chasing the geese. I began calling for help. Screaming over and over, “Henry! Help! Irish! NO! Henry! Help! Irish! NO!” Poor Mabel had been singled out and was flapping and running for her life. I caught up to them as Irish had his mouth around her neck. I don’t think he meant to harm her. I threw my robe over Mabel. It worked, and Irish bounded off in another direction. He cornered the rest of the gaggle as I continued screaming for help, my throat hoarse. I couldn’t keep him away from every goose. He’s unbelievably agile and incredibly fast. I felt very alone and desperate as I screamed for help. Bruno momentarily distracted Irish, so I seized the opportunity and ran up to the door pounding and screaming. No one came. I ran back toward the geese, toes curled, to usher the gaggle to safety in the dog run. Once they were inside, Irish ran around happy as you please with the rat-bat dog, Bruno. Bruno probably couldn’t outrun Irish on a straightaway, but then again, he’s not dumb enough to try. Rather, he darts around like a bullet, making quick turns Irish can’t keep up with. Truly a big baby, Irish just wanted someone to chase and to chase him. Mabel was not as forgiving. 

    About this time, Henry came out and I yelled hoarsely for him to turn off the hose in the barn. I figured it was flooding all over the place. I realized that when I had let Irish out this morning the gate must not have been closed. Wayne had come in late and probably left it open, so all this time Irish had been wandering around enjoying his freedom. It was his footprint by the barn. Obviously, my brush with the cougars had left me paranoid. We did not have large predators coming this close to the house. I went inside and brewed my coffee. I had really earned this pot.

    After that, the day went on quite nicely. I haven’t mentioned it but, sadly, Kristie moved out of my dad’s apartment above the shop and in with her friend, Jena on November 1st. I was very sorry to see her go. We didn’t do all that much together, but the occasional glass of wine and knowing there was another woman around was comforting. However, today my new tenant, Alexis, moved in. He’s a great guy who moved here from just south of San Francisco.

(Alexis bearing gifts of coffee, cookies, pinot grigio and dog biscuits from Trader Joes™)

    Alexis is the kind of guy who jumps right in. His first real day here and he offered to help Henry in the barn while I finally took down the now out-of-place and goose-ravaged graveyard. The moment Alexis produced an impressive Butterfly knife Henry was an immediate Alexis fan. After what seemed to Henry a socially acceptable amount of time, he asked Alexis where he got his unusual name. “After all, it is kinda odd for a boy.” The answer seems to be his mother was French and his father was Greek so they chose a name that would suit both cultures. There’s another version according to his cousin in North Carolina that has to do with a czar, but we’ll leave that for another time.

    It was past time for me to grain the cows, which made me a little nervous. Gallantly, Alexis offered to join me. We walked down and I showed him where I’d been standing when I’d seen the cougar and where the cougar had been. Not wanting to freak him out, I said that many people had lived on Mosquito Lake Road for twenty years and had never seen a cougar. “In fact, Wayne says I’ll probably never see another one, which is OK by me."

    The evening brought Wayne, Henry, Alexis and me together for a celebration of his first real night on the farm. Naturally, our fare included chili, chocolate-butterscotch cookies and “Journey to The Center of the Earth”. Poor Alexis had every single animal on his lap for a time. A good sport, he hugged, snuggled, petted and accepted kisses from Bruno, Abbey, Luther, Irish, Emmet, Vivian and love-starved Deli – who inexplicably lights up when Alexis walks in the room.

    After the movie, Wayne sleepily climbed the stairs to his attic world while I walked Alexis out to the front porch. We stood there in the bright moonlight talking about the beauty of the place, the pros and cons of living here and whatever else entered our minds. As I was talking to Alexis I noticed a movement behind him in the shadows. Ever paranoid, I doubted myself. Wondering if my eyes or the shadows were playing tricks on me, I asked Alexis to turn and tell me if he saw it too. He looked and, after a moment, said slowly, “Yes, I do. There’s something light-colored there. I can see it moving. I wouldn’t have seen it if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

    “It’s a cougar, isn’t it?”

(taken the next day from the porch - the cougar was on the other side of the driveway between the pine tree on the left and the post on the right)

    “Yes, it is. It’s definitely a cougar. Look at how it moves,” he answered almost inaudibly. As we watched a giant version of Emmett slink casually down the path between the apple trees and along the pasture fence line, I ran inside to get a flashlight. The big one Tom bought me didn’t work. Again. So I grabbed a little one and ran outside, yelling to Henry we had a cougar in the front yard. We held up the flashlight and, sure enough, two green eyes blinked back at us. The cougar had been about eighty feet away from the house.

     “Hey, do you want to hop in my jeep and go see if we can get a closer look?” Cool. A new playmate.

    “Is it a hard top?” I queried hesitantly. Small chuckle.

     “Good question. Yes, it is a hardtop.”

    “Heck Yeah. Let’s go. I’ll grab my camera.” I ran inside and asked Henry if he wanted to go.

    “Uh. NO! I do not. Mom, I don’t think you should go out looking for cougars either. Moms don’t do that when they have children.”

    “This one does. I want to see one, just not standing next to me.”

    As we hoisted ourselves into the jeep, I glanced up to Wayne’s room because I knew he’d want to go too, but it was dark and I didn’t want to wake him to go on what would probably be a wild goose chase (my second today).

    Scanning the pasture, trees and surrounding brush for eyes, we saw raccoon eyes, and a lone doe, but no cat so we returned home from our safari planning our next adventure. We thought we’d do a beaver pond stakeout. We’d need blankets and hot beverages, flashlights.

October 7th Braveheart

(fall leaves)

    Mike came up from Tacoma today to visit and help me do some bookkeeping. We chatted a bit catching up before we hunkered down with matching coffee cups in the dining room and spread everything out on the table.

    Hours rolled by as we sorted, piled, noted, filed and recorded all sorts of information. We looked up and it was suddenly 2:00PM and we were starving. I knew Mike would never actually cook anything and I did owe him for diligently helping with this tedious job. I began grilling turkey melts when I heard a noise and Deli started barking fiercely. Not taking any chances I turned off the stove and went to investigate. Looking outside I saw Irish who is normally confined to the porch during his convalescence standing on the driveway wagging his tail looking down toward the creek.
 (career criminal)
    “Irish is out!” I cried frantically for many reasons. First, Irish might run in the road if a motorcycle came by. Second, he might re-injure his leg with too much activity and third, I remembered. “The geese are out! Where are the geese? Irish hasn’t been with the geese unsupervised. EVER. I don’t know if he’ll hurt them.” Mike came dashing out, as much as a man with bad knees can dash. Just as he was about to come down the steps, I called to him to get one of the air horns from the kitchen just in case. He disappeared into the house. I figured, the noise would shock Irish if he grabbed one of the geese. “He’s got them in the brush below the hill!” I was scared. I didn’t know how long he had been out. He’s not a mean dog, but he’s just so big and rambunctious. I raced down and started calling him toward me. He loped over to me tail wagging as bouncy as you please and at the last moment darted out of my grasp. If he could have laughed he would have. Happily he toyed with me enjoying his freedom. Dashing from me to the geese in the tall grass as if he'd read the Notre Dame playbook. I could hear honking, but I didn’t know if any of them were injured. And then just because Irish is truly still a puppy, he walked up on the porch and gave up. Game over. 

    Mike immediately locked him in the house while I went to see how the geese were. To my shock and dismay I only found one. You never find just one alone. I called. “Hey, hey, hey little geese, hey hey hey” and waited. I trounced down into the tall grass calling them over and over. Nothing. Just Quackmire came flapping up to the top of the hill walking around aimlessly looking for his flock. I scooped him up in my arms snuggling him. He stuck his bill in the crook of my neck. He seemed to be shaking a little. I whispered to him telling him he was ok now. Then I called to Mike, “I only can find one goose!”

     “Just one?” (Quackmire)

    “Yes!” Fearing broken necks, feathers and white fluffy bodies stained with blood strewn about the yard. I held onto Quackmire not budging. I’d have started looking if I had to, but Mike was there and I could see he was already searching the property. Had there been a massacre while we were sitting just inside working? Had I let them down?

     “Denise! I can’t find them. I don’t hear them” The latter being even stranger if you know anything about geese.

    “Do you see feathers?”

    “I see some, but not enough to indicate anything, I’ll keep looking.” I waited with Quackmire on the grass his breast feathers soft against my cheek. Would he be alone now? I thought of Dr. Coffee who wants to get goslings from me in the spring. We just sat Quackmire and I.

    “Denise! Denise!” Mike called frantically.

    “Are they alive?”

    " They’re in the barn!”

     “All of them?” (everything's ok)

    “I counted seven.”  I breathed a sigh of relief. As I walked over to the barn I realized that Quackmire is their leader and he probably lured Irish away from the flock. Knowing the barn is their haven they went inside. I looked at cranky Quackmire with a whole new respect. He had sacrificed himself for his family. He was no chicken, he was one brave goose. I mean gander.

October 2nd Goosed

   

    A foggy morning turned into a rainy day. I stayed inside drinking coffee and applying online for jobs. Fred Meyer™ is one of our local markets and while I was there one of the checkers heard me lamenting to Toby the other day about all the places I’d applied.

    “You’re over-qualified, aren’t you?”
    “I suppose,” I said drably.

    “You should apply here. I’m over-qualified. I have a Ph.D., but they hired me when no one else would. I needed a job just to pay for our propane.”

    

Resolving to fill out yet another online application I brewed a pot of coffee and started to work. I called Mike and to verify some our employment dates and grumbled about the twenty pages of psychological questions. Not twenty questions, twenty pages. Two hours and several cups of coffee later I finished and went outside for some fresh air.

    I couldn’t believe my eyes. It looked like snow on the ground, but I knew it wasn’t snow. It was crumbles of foam core. (nibbled tombstones)

The geese had eaten the tombstones. I ran from the porch and found the gluttons asleep in the graveyard. They showed no appearance of remorse.
(Quackmire!)
They dared me to come after them. I took that dare. Rounded them up and put them in the dog run. They honked and carried on, but there was no way they were getting out of jail now. So there they sat, incarcerated.

    The rain was coming down in sheets now, but I was not to be deterred. We’d finally gotten these decorations up and they were going to stay up. I remembered the plastic net Mike and I had attempted to use for the garden and retrieved it from the chicken coop. I knew it wouldn’t keep much out, but I figured it would be fairly invisible from the road and hopefully goose-proof. I considered Wikihow and wondered if they might have something on keeping geese out. I decided to try my idea first. I went to the garden and found a few measly tomatoes still hanging on the tomato trellises but pulled them anyway. I used the light and easy-to-manipulate trellises as stakes to support my makeshift net fence. (goose barrier from the road)

    When I finished constructing it my goose barrier looked pretty pathetic. It was floppy and frankly sloppy.  But if Alfred is any indication, it worked. He didn’t see it at first and ran right into the thing. Baam! Completely confused, he started flapping and honking and charged forward once again. He bounced back and gave up. I love it when a plan comes together. Especially on the first try. So what if I'm not smarter than a goat, I can still outwit a goose
. (goose fence up close)

    As for the tombstones, Tom always thought they looked too pristine. He thought old tombstones should be crumbly and have chunks out of them. It seems our goose faux aging process was fortuitous. A little stone spray paint and they’ll be better than new.

September 28th I Want My Mummy

   

(Halloween has arrived early)

    I’ve had a dream. It’s not a big dream like world peace or even a lofty dream like financial independence.  I simply want to park in my garage. It’s not something I thought would happen, after Wayne moved all his bikes and and tools and stuff in, but I clung to it nonetheless.

    Just after lunchtime while I was painting - what else but trim,  Wayne came to tell me there was something big in the garage and he didn’t know what to do with it. He and Tom were putting together some shelves and they needed to know where to put this. I was stunned to see my “mobile barn” transformed into a normal suburban vehicle sitting in a ship shape garage with shelves. A newly painted garage I might add. (Wayne makes my dreams come true)

    Like the garage, I know little by little things are improving around here. Last year we were so overwhelmed we were completely holiday free. No Christmas tree, no stockings, no Easter eggs and certainly no Halloween decorations were ever so much as lifted out of their storage boxes. And we have decorations. A plethora of skulls, Marcus the Carcass various mummies, black cat silhouettes a giant witch for the top of the house and best of all our graveyard perfect to complete the haunted house feel.
(Henry and Pea get going)
    Tom announced since he could now access the Halloween decorations out of the garage he was getting out all the tombstones. A few years ago we made tombstones for the front yard. Tom constructed them out of foam core, I did the research – as they’re all actual tombstones – Henry and I burned the letters and did some of the “stone” painting, but as you might have guessed, Pea did the construction and little flourishes. During the move and subsequent storage they’d incurred some damage and needed repair.  So as I went back to my new career – painting the trim on the house, they set to starting Halloween.
  (Miracle helps Tom)
    There was much discussion as to what to put where. We all walked up and down the road to find the best position for the graveyard. Should it be facing the road or the pasture. Should the witch be put on the house or the apartment? Toby, Bruno, Henry Pea and I stood there staring. Envisioning. Dean thought the whole thing a waste of time because who would ever drive down Mosquito Lake Road and see it? He had a point, but we ignored it as he was spoiling our fun. We came to a group consensus and were walking back when we saw fresh bear scat.
(Henry,Pea & friends make repairs)
    “Well, now we know what the dogs were barking at last night.” Tom laughed at the thought of Laurie running into a black bear on the way to the car. We looked around and found a well-worn path from the road to the apple trees. (Dean relaxes by Zeke) (one of the tombstones) (another tombstone)
(and another) (Pea give Alexander a hand)

    Almost out of hay, we let the goats, sheep and Miracle graze in the yard as the graveyard progressed all afternoon. First repairs, then lighting, then the timer ad to be rigged. The skeleton was strung over the entry and the mummy put into place.
 (graveyard)

(skeleton hanging from the entry)

 (Our Halloween House)
(Ahh finally my Mummy)
    The final touch? The doorbell was changed from the cougar scream which was set to torment me after my near death experience in July to a more appropriate ghoulish ghost moan. Our nightmare before Christmas was now complete.

September 14th Uplifting Experience

(my trusty helpers)

     After dropping Henry off at school, I nervously rented the paint sprayer at Hardware Sales rental department. I say nervously because I was very worried about painting with a paint sprayer. I didn’t think it was brain surgery, but I figured it might be hard not to create drips that will run down the side of the house. I didn’t want to spend an enormous amount of time, energy and money to do a poor job.

    Mac, the girl at the counter, assured me it was pretty easy once you got the hang of it. Indulging my fears she recommended I get their “Z” boom so I’d feel safe while trying to paint the upper portion of the house. It looked great, sounded great and was only $200.00. I thought my life still worth this much so I rented it for the day –and as a Lucky Strike Extra - it was Friday, which meant I could keep it all weekend.
(Craig delivers the "Z" Boom)

    Craig, the delivery guy arrived by 2:00PM and instructed me on the use of the machine. It looked fun. The only problem I found out is the hill on the most dangerous side of the house is too sloped for the machine. Consequently, a piercing warning bell sounds off in a relentless rhythmic pattern– signaling the machine is positioned in such a way as to “cause serious injury or death”. Suddenly, I didn’t feel any better.
(Up on the scary side for a test drive)

    As it turns out, the “Z” boom wasn’t fun at all. In fact, it was absolutely terrifying. I felt as though I was standing on top of a Ferris wheel the entire time. Of course, I took all the necessary precautions; I wore a harness and secured it to the machine. Donned ear protection to drown out all the warning bells despite common sense. Got a respirator for the fumes and goggles to protect my eyes from over-spray. To keep my hair from turning Colonial White, I wrapped up my hair up in red bandanas giving me a sort of Aunt Jemima look. (The not so scary side)

    Using the simple picture controls and joystick I stretched the boom to its full height. I stood there frozen. The machine looked and felt wiggly as it tilted down the hill. As directed, I turned it off so the bells wouldn’t sound and began spraying my primer coat. When I finished, I couldn’t turn the machine back on. Now in full panic, I could feel my spine tense up. “What would I do?” I started screaming for help. I called Toby, Henry, Dean, but they’d all gone inside for some reason or another and couldn’t hear me. I was alone. Like a squirrel caught in the middle of the Champs Elysee, I stood motionless trying to breathe gripping the safety bars. Terror stricken I just stood there and stood there afraid to move my feet. Wondering if I would have to climb down. I didn’t want to climb down. I would slip I would fall. I considered my funeral. Lisa new what to serve, Tom could make margaritas. I’d planned the whole thing – I’d go Mexican. Henry would need a new suit, the one he has is too small. It was after all my last party. I didn’t want it messed up. As I stood there I had more time to think. I worried about all the unopened mail Lisa’d find. She’d find all the stuff I hadn’t filed yet. My office was a mess. I had to get down from here. I had dirty laundry. Slowly, I turned and tried the engine. Miraculously it started. I felt guilty for every single time I had made fun of my mother’s fear of heights. I’m becoming a little old lady; soon I’ll be nervous looking down from the edge of a steep sidewalk.
(Out of the box) (while I'm up there I might as well get some trim done)

    Despite my fear, I went up and down in that thing all weekend. I never really made friends with it, but I did my best. My best did not include taping off the top windows - I refused to lean out that far. Tom could scrape them later. My best did not include getting a third coat on the cedar shingles at the top, because the wheels of the boom began slipping and spinning and my best did not include keeping the upper roofs free of over-spray. At the end of the weekend, I felt as though I’d been on one of those Oprah episodes where she and Gail jump off poles of ridiculous heights to face their ultimate fears and build character. I have to admit I felt proud of myself for doing it, and I did become used to it in a way, but as Craig drove Big Blue away. I was happy.
(with my beloved safety harness)

August 20th Dancing Queen

(Emmett surveys his home)

    Our sunny streak ended and it rained hard most of the day Tuesday. Henry and I put buckets in the barn to catch drips near the hay and in several places inside the goose pen. The drips rhythmic symphony was annoying and stirred up my feathered-friends. I’d have to patch the roof when the sun emerged. Henry tended to the feeding while wired the last sections of fence water dripping in my eyes. Bruno darted in and out while we were working.

    Bruno is no purse dog. He is pure farm dog through and through. Zooming by, darting here and there. You could almost hear the “Mission Impossible” theme song as he squeezed through the gate into the goat pen grabbed some highly coveted goat poop and trotted quickly out before downing it. It's almost impossible to fence him in. He can squeeze through the pickets in the garden. He goes between the gate and the post - I might have to get him a shock collar for some of these places.
(Bruno in the grass)
(Bruno on the run- but not frightened) (Bruno getting to know Miracle - I am worried about him getting in with her- he doesn't get how lethal she is)

    In the morning, I opened all the doors in the barn so all the animals could all enjoy the fresh green grass. Miracle quickly came out to investigate. She began trotting around and nibbling at the grass contentedly, but as soon as any of the others came out she pinned her ears back and ran them out of the area. I watched for a while as they slowly they all tried again. She tolerated them briefly and ran them out again.
(Tolerant Miracle welcoming guests)
(The queen is not receiving visitors)

They continued this dance until we left for football camp. As we drove away Miracle gave us a bray farewell. She’d watched us intently the last couple of days and I guess she thought Tom had built this area just for her.  I think she's right.
(I guess they can all kiss her. . .)

August 10th When It Rains

(Henry goes William Tell on a rotten round bale)

    We had many plans, we didn’t do this weekend. We were going to go to a
Civil war re-enactment at Hovander Park and to a Blues jamboree at the Deming Logging Show grounds, but it rained. Every time I mentioned going somewhere, the kids looked at me incredulously from the sofa wrapped in blankets still in their pajamas as the Olympics blared non-stop from the television. Rain doesn’t generally stop us, but it rained as hard as I’ve ever seen. Loud pounding rain that punished my metal barn roof seams creating drips and drabs all over my hay, which causes all sorts of rot.

(Irish makes sure Bruno doesn't steel his thunder)

   So the kids and I spent most of our time indoors playing Clue™ and Pictionary™ while we made Brown Sugar Peach ice cream (no one liked the chunks of peach) and tried our hand at Banana(Kimona learned pureeing doesn't mean squishing with your hands). None of us liked either as much as the Pumpkin Pie ice cream. Kimona is determined to try the Banana Maple recipe she saw in Hobby Farm™ magazine and she keeps muttering things like “Do you have a vanilla bean? Is heavy cream the same as whipping cream?”
(Sam after target practice)
    We did do a couple of things that marked the weekend. I spoke to my friend Russ who grew up on a farm in Ohio and he gave me tips on sheep and pigs (just in case).

    We mixed the goats, sheep and Miracle together. The goats it turns out are bullies. Rachel was constantly rearing up trying to establish her royalty and the goats, like the children stare blankly back wondering if she realizes they’re sheep. Miracle chased them around, but stopped every time I caught her. I’d yell “What do you think you’re doing?” and she’d come to an abrupt halt, put her head down and peer over at me. Guilty. I know this look. This is the same look I get from Henry when I ask him if he’s cleaned the cat box.
(Kimona covered more in cement than the walkway)

    Wayne came over and worked on the attic, taping seams, mudding and sanding. Kimona and I did some cement in the momentsbetween deluges while Sam practiced shooting and Henry honed his archery skills. We even did some laundry.
(Lloyd once again tries a taste of the cement - I have to once again rinse his mouth out in the baby pool before it hardens)

 

    As I was going to sleep, I noticed I hadn’t seen Alvin and Scarlett in some time. I put food in their dishes and waited. Only Emmett arrived on the scene. I went looking for them, but didn’t see them anywhere. I listened and heard the tiniest faintest mew. I followed the sound up into the attic. I looked around but neither cat was in view. I called their names and stood there listening, wondering where they could be. I heard the mew again. It was coming behind a small attic door that Wayne had screwed shut. They were entombed Indiana Jones style. I went and found a screw gun and opened the door. The noise must have freaked them out because they were nowhere to be seen. I propped the door open and went back to bed. Waiting. Suddenly, there they were on top of my dresser eating hungrily. Safe.
(kitty tomb)

    I tried impossibly to find a place to put my foot, to get comfortable, but it was no use. Henry is sleeping in my bed as Sam is in his. We also have to make room for a disgruntled Vivian a shivering Luther an angry Emmett (seriously annoyed at the arrival of Bruno, the rat-sized dog) and a snuggly Bruno under the covers. Deli is sleeping with Kimona and Irish is the only one currently acting like a dog sleeping on a dog bed. I lay in bed positioned like a pretzel listening to the rain as I thought about the men’s Olympic relay team beating the French. I wondered how that was going over in Paris. "Smash the Americans" huh? Au contraire mon ami.

August 5th An "Oink Oink" Here?

   

I woke up to a quiet house. Every one of the dogs, cats and kids were asleep so I stealthily brewed a pot of coffee and lounged around sipping my elixir in my green flannels on the porch watching the mist rise off the valley as the God rays streamed over the hills. The grass was laden with heavy dew; the cows lay in the pasture chewing their cud. The only movements were the robins hopping around looking for worms.

    I wasn’t alone long. Miss Phoebe came creeping out wearing her flannel nightgown backward. It looked familiar the pocket draped over her left shoulder, and then I realized it was my mother’s. My mother would be pleased to know she has created generations of women wearing flannels with tennis shoes or work boots well into the day.

    Phoebe and I began to discuss our latest acquisitions and mergers. How did we feel about the sheep now that they arrived? Was Bruno fitting in? Do the goats have enough space? What did she think of my new compound idea? We thoughtfully discussed these topics and my eventual plans for chickens and turkeys to really round out the barnyard.

    “Why don’t you get a pig?” Phoebe asked with her big blue eyes blinking at me. "Farms are supposed to have pigs."

    “Well, I really don’t want a pig. Maryruth has told me horror stories about pigs and how vicious they can be. And Phoebe, you know how big they get. Really I don’t think a pig is for me.”

    “Have you looked at Heritage pigs?” She ingeniously asked. “I mean didn’t farmers have lots of pigs back then? Maybe there’s a nice little piggy that doesn’t get too big. After all Tante (German for aunt) you have a pig pen in the barn all ready.” So much for the whole dumb blonde thing I’ve reflexively subscribed to being brunette. This little cherub is shrewd.

    The next thing you know we’re snuggled up in front of the computer on the American Breeds Livestock Conservancy website checking out rare, heritage, and colonial pigs. Sure enough we find one Thomas Jefferson documented as a breed  by 1804. They existed prior to that, but 1804 is when they were recognized as The American Guinea Hog. – I guess they couldn’t call them Guinea Pigs. They’re black, stand about 30” tall and get between 100 and 300 pounds. They’re known for their ability to forage and their gentle nature. It seems they ran wild in the forests and swamps until farmers would simply catch them and use them for bacon, ham, sausage and pork chops  of course, but every part of the pig would be used including the hair to make brushes etc.

    The next thing you know, she’s dialing the number to cascademeadowsfarm.com in Oregon. They have rare, heritage breeds, but not necessarily dating as far back as ours. They have Dexter cattle, Pilgrim Geese, Alpine goats, Icelandic sheep and Guinea Hogs. Clearly a gaping hole in our farm is the absence of swine.
(American Guinea Hog Piglet)
    I called Pea and informed him of my new pig discovery.

    “Well, don’t go get one today.”

    “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not getting a pig now, I’m simply researching animals for Fort Flashback in a responsible way.”

    'Did you say my thinking you might get a pig today was being ridiculous? Me thinking you might run out with the kids in your mobile Honda barn and come home with a piglet or two is ridiculous?”

    “OK, you’re right. It’s not ridiculous.” I conceded. “My sister thinks I need a Shick Program.”

    “A Shit program?”

    “Well, maybe that’s how it might work. No. She said Shick animal program.”

    “Oh.”

    

(Phoebe directs traffic)
(the kids "encourage" the goslings to try the pond)
(They don't want to stay in - at first)
(Mabel, Alfred, Clara, Lloyd, Ruthie, Matilda, Cleveland and Quackmire all start to like the pond)
(But only for a short time) (Then they need to go home and rinse off all that nature in the baby swimming pool)

    The rest of the day was filled with scooping donkey poop, picking flowers, mixing cement, plotting fences shooting arrows and vacuuming the house, ambushing the girls with water balloons, (The boys see payback- the water balloon war begins) (Henry has great aim Phoebe gets it) (Quinn gets it) (Sam pelts Kimona)
 teaching the geese to swim in the pond, snuggling Bruno, reassuring Luther he's still loved and making homemade pumpkin pie ice cream with hot caramel sauce.

July 28th Ready Or Not

  (view as we drove home from gymnastics in the afternoon)

    A spectacular day with bright sunshine and cool shadows, a day to play outside a day for running, screaming, giggling, plotting and planning: Hide & Seek tag was on!

    Quinn and Kimona, the masterminds of the game, certainly had an unfair advantage: they’re a year older and – well, they’re girls. The boys however, aren’t stupid so don’t feel too sorry for them. The rules were simple

1. Each team of two must stay together.

2. Each team must have a noisemaker of some kind. A cowbell or air horn – to give up or in case of trouble.

3. No hiding in the bushes or grass so that you look like easy prey.

4. No large farm equipment such as the tractor may be used.

Team Girl: Quinn (12) and Kimona (13) were the first to seek. They had to wait ten minutes in the house with me while I was getting my lasagna going while Team Boy: Sam (12) and Henry (11) went to hide.

    While the girls were waiting, it became clear that the game had already started. It seems the two of them had been lurking in corners eavesdropping while the boys were looking for a pair of walkie-talkies.  They felt certain the boys were headed to the pond and it would be a snap to get them. But just in case they devised a fake list in a notebook they were going to leave on the counter of pretend places they might hide. This way when the boys went looking for them, they’d be safely tucked away somewhere else.
  (OK - they can't spell - but that's not everything.)

    Well, it seemed like a good plan as I listened, nodded and grated the mozzarella. After searching high and low for my good Portmeirion™ lasagna, pan I vaguely remembered my father had accidentally broken it when he used it as a makeshift dog dish. Time was up and I sent them on their way.  I put the sundried tomatoes on top covered the pan with foil and shoved it in the oven, and went outside to find Wayne in the shop with Kristi.
  (Cleveland, Mabel, Clara, Lloyd, Mathilda, Ruthie, Alfred & Quackmire assess Wayne and Kristi's progress)

Wayne has decided he likes the cut of our cloth. Which means he asked if he fix up our attic and move in for a while as he gets back on his feet – he’s getting divorced. Hmm. Let’s see. He cooks, cleans, organizes, drywalls, knows how to do electrical work, paints houses, builds things, dabbles in plumbing is a nice guy, can shoot a gun, brings us fresh crab and spontaneously does things like clears out the brush by the pond so the kids won’t be cougar cookies. Well, ok. Maybe I can suffer through it.

Anyway, Kristi and Wayne were clearing out the shop, so Wayne can build a wood rack and fit his table saw in Tom’s shop. Just then we were approached by two very smug boys.

“We lost them.”

“What?” Kristi inquired.

“The girls. We hid in the boat in the middle of the pond and they couldn’t get us. They even tried to trick us by leaving and changing their clothes so they could come in after us. But it didn’t work. We got away.”

Just as I was introducing Sam to Kristi, two screaming girls came rounding the bend.

“There they are!! Get ‘em!” Bellowed Quinn as both she and Kimona began almost yipping. The boys took a horrified look over their shoulders and raced away with girls in hot pursuit.

    The shop continued to be organized and the lasagna baked. Until a somber group came in the door a long time later. It was Quinn who started talking.

“OK, let me tell you what happened.”

“Is everyone OK. Tell me that first.”

“Yes. Everyone is all right now."

“OK. What happened?”

“Well, we thought the boys were pretty smart using the boat in the pond, so we did the same thing. Only. Henry pretended Sam had ditched him and he went on how the game was over and we started to feel sorry for him.” Quinn rattled off very quickly as only a radio announcer and a middle school girl can.

“Henry’s a pretty good actor, so we believed him.” Interjected Kimona.

At this point, I started wondering what the problem was, were they going to complain about Henry’s playing the game in a “Survivor-like-way"? And where was Henry? He hadn’t come in yet.

“Well, we saw Sam hiding in the bushes and Henry gave us a long explanation how Sam had betrayed him and they weren’t working together anymore and we believed him again.” (Gullible) “Then Henry started swimming out to get us and suddenly he seemed to be having trouble and couldn’t keep his head above the water.”

“What? Where is he?” 

Just then Sam and Henry walked in the door. Henry was in some of Quinn's dry clothes but very shaken up. Quinn continued, “Well we thought he was faking again and he started asking for help. When we realized, he was serious we yelled for Sam, but Sam had already figured it out and was diving in the water. Sam pushed Henry to the dock and rescued him.”

“Mom, I got so cold in the water, I couldn’t move my arms or legs very well.”

“And you’re a terrible swimmer Honey. We’ve got to get you some more lessons. You never want to take swimming seriously, but it’s really important.”

“Sam saved me.”

“Thanks Sam." I said with my whole heart. "I’d really miss him if he were gone. I’ve grown used to this little punk. It’s forty minutes to the hospital, my lasagna would have been ruined.”

“MOMMMM! I was really, really, really scared.” Henry whined almost crying as he wrapped his arms around me. I could feel his cold skin and see the fear in his eyes.

“I’m sure you were Honey. I’m scared just hearing about it. I can’t think about you being seriously hurt. Do you remember the 4th of July four years ago? I can’t think those thoughts. We’re going to have to leave life preservers and some other equipment by the pond if you guys are going to be playing there. But we’re all clear – NO ONE pretends to be hurt or injured."  I could kick myself. I just had all the kids trying on lifejackets for tubing - earlier today in Fred Meyer™. I should have bought them instead of waiting to see if I could get them cheaper somewhere else.

“We just thought he was the-little-boy-who-cried-wolf. When we finally figured out it was real, we yelled to Sam.”

“This isn’t Sam’s first rescue. Remember Mom, he dove in and saved his little sister too.”

“ I remember, that was about two years ago right?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey Sam, I’m a horrible swimmer. Thanks for saving my life. Want a marshmallow? Oh and Quinn, winner picks the movie. And we won.”

(Wearing Pea's t-shirts, the girls plot)
There was some arguing, but the girls conceded almost too easily. As they walked out with Wayne, Abbey and me to close up the barn animals, I heard them whispering about short sheeting bed, putting nail polish and sparkle blush on the boys while they sleep.

“How about if we put the little alfalfa goat pellets in their cereal in the morning?” Kimona wondered.
(Kimona and Abbey herd geese while Wayne watches)

July 27th Abbey Road

The weekend flew by.

   Since Kristi moved in to Grandpa Horn's old apartment, she hasn't had a good night's sleep. It appears there were a few squatters already in the apartment. Kristi really didn't want to use traps or poison. This left ferret pee as the only option from what she told me. I was a little taken aback you could actually purchase ferret pee. Exactly how do they collect that? I'm thinking it's not good for the ferret. Looking for a way to make some spare change I told her I'd sell her some of Henry's. In lieu of this, I suggested we enlist the services of Emmett.

    Emmett is fierce, he runs the house and he is the only thing Irish has the good sense to be truly afraid of.

(Irish and Emmett meet in the kitchen)
  (Emmett asks that Irish bow to the king)
(Emmett begins to turn his back in disdain)
(Irish realizes he is supposed to do the full body bow which seems to satisfy Emmett- for now)

Henry packed a cat carrier poured some litter in and sent the assassin over for the night. By morning, he had presented Kristi with his prize on the kitchen counter. I would have been grossed out, but Kristi praised him as a hero and now she and Olie are sleeping just fine.

The assasin demonstrates his prowess)

   

On Saturday, Toby arrived with Dean and two bleary-eyed stowaways, Sam and his sister Kimona. Sam and Henry were like peas and carrots when they both went to Woodland Hills Elementary. So Henry begged me to beg his mother, Julie, to let him come up and stay for a few days or a few weeks or a few months or forever. We threw the lovely Kimona in for good measure and it’s a good thing; Kimona was the only one who helped me feed the animals in the morning while the two boys stood around grinning and punching each other.

(Evil Evelyn has a party out in the pasture with a couple of deer - Abe and Andy join in - my neighbors wave to her, but the deer are unimpressed)

   Toby and Dean only spent the night on the way back to Canada after working on a few episodes of “Monk”.  They took off just after breakfast. She was heading to Trader Joes™ to stock up on some goodies before crossing the border and catching the ferry back to Vancouver Island. She called after crossing the border and you know my feelings about he border. It had taken her over an hour and forty-five minutes. I thought she was calling to complain about the international red tape. To my complete surprise, she was calling me to tell Canada had given her two weeks to pack up her house and leave the country. The whole thing is very complicated, but the long and the short of it is – she and her husband were on work permits. Their farm isn’t doing well financially, so she left the country to “work”, however she’s not allowed to get another job. It gets complicated, but Canada feels that despite the fact their not really earning money they are “working” on the farm and that permit has expired – anyway there are other factors, but in the end, none of it matters. I think we were both in shock.
(child labor- Kimona, Sam and Henry)

    Back here, we all walked around in a daze reeling from Toby’s news and wondering where they’ll go and what they'll do. They won’t have time to sell their house or anything. We’d have to think about that later, we had to get a round bale down the cows. We all thought it would be a little tricky because it was unwrapped, but we wound chicken wire around the bale and the four of us, Sam, Kimona, Henry and I pushed the bale over and got it loaded.

(taking a break-) (Henry and Sam hitch a ride with Lu)

(Kimona gets to know Abe, Andy & Anna)

(Sam learns the meaning of "dialing" a number- shocked and confused, he asks for help)

    The rest of the day was clearing out the attic, feeding the cows’ cookies, and laughing at the geese. The kids went fishing with dogs while our friend Wayne worked hard all day clearing brush away so no pesky predators could get too close to our unsuspecting cougar snacks Henry, Sam, Kimona and Quinn.

July 25th It's Not Easy Being Green

   

There’s a tree frog in my refridgerator. He’s new here. Well, he’s not in the house, he’s in the barn and he’s not “inside” he’s “in” between the doors. But I think he’s the smartest fella around. I call him the Fridge Fro.. He comes and goes suction cupping up and down to his Hot Point™ hideaway. It’s cool, near the sink we use to water everyone in the barn. It’s up high and predator free. He's really got himself a sweet deal. I’d say he has about as much room as people in Manhattan apartments, maybe more. My friend, Jenny bought a place for more than a quarter of a million dollars that was only little more than 500 square feet. Who’s smarter?
 
(note dark space  - to the side on the left)

    We first met, just the other day. I was at the sink, filling a bucket of water to give to the goats and Miracle when I felt his presence. I turned around slowly not knowing what kind of varmint to expect this time and about jumped out of my skin when I saw him perched on the edge of the door facing me. In fact, he was looking back at me eye-to-eye. After the initial shock, I began scrutinizing him. Was he alive? Could he get out? Was he stuck? Henry reminded me in an undeniably sixth-grade tone he was indeed a “Tree Frog’, and their pretty good climbers. He’s completely fine.” The kid needs to dumb down sometimes. So anyway, I splattered some water on him – just in case?– turned the lights out for the evening and left him there. To my relief, he was gone the next day. But that evening when I went back to feed Miracle and the goats, he was back home.
(Miracle's hungry for an alfalfa "cookie")

  (Riley looks like he has "alien eyes" - he too would like an alfalfa "cookie")

He’s not the only new resident, the geese have moved into the barn and are spending their first night out with Miracle, the goats, about 6 dozen barn swallows and Freddy the Freeloader Fridge Frog.
(Homecoming Parade)

July 13th There's Always One

(Henry is sick to death of this project)
Saturday evening, the girls decided to brave it and come out. Well, they didn’t really decide, Henry promised to bake them cookies and guilted them into it. He called from the car while we were at Home Depot™ picking up supplies for our next project. He played Quinnlike a fiddle until she couldn’t stand it anymore and was packing her bag. She said “I can stand up to a lot of people, but not when my cousin starts with the lovey-dovey stuff.” Honestly, I’m not sure if he missed Quinn and Phoebe or was sick of being out here with alone with boring old me.

The evening was filled with flour, shortening and Tom Hanks, but in the morning it was back to work, painting fence posts in anticipation of Tom and Craig’s arrival. Of course, the geese felt they could and should contribute their two cents. Naturally, there was lemonade and lots of resting in the shade as Luther is the foreman. (Luther and Quackmire inspect the work)

In the thick of it is Quackmire. It’s always Quackmire going after Luther’s tail, climbing on top of things, or the last to go back in the pen. (bill full of paint, Quackmire tells Phoebe to get back to work) (Phoebe gets Quackmire with a kiss)
(Quackmire is always in the middle of everything) (Lu's had enough & gets Quackmire to lift off)

(Quackmire goes too far)

July 12th Alive!

(just in case the bears feel left out)
    The emotional exhaustion of the cougar encounter is not to be explained. I know we were all extremely lucky, and I should simply be grateful no person nor animal was injured and call it a day. But as a mother I can't help but wonder: what if Mike wasn’t there and Henry had been helping me? What if he’d run up the hill to get the drill? He would have been the human equivalent of a mouse. I would have stood there helpless.

    The funny thing about a life and death moment is the clarity of your mind. If you haven’t faced a cougar or had a semi-automatic weapon pointed at your head then you might not know what I mean. It’s as if your mind has filed away every small tidbit of information that might help you in an emergency and pulls it up faster than you might think is humanly possible. Flashes of information like, look bigger, flash a light in their eyes, don’t look directly at them, back a way, don’t run and evoke a prey response, etc. all come crashing through your head. I did not think I would live, it’s as simple as that. I thought as I stood there that this was how it would end for me. I would die on my farm on a Thursday. I wondered if Henry would come outside if he heard me scream. I would have to die quietly. I'd never finish the walkway. Your mind races.

    My sister, my old roommate Dixon and I went through this many years ago when we were assaulted in West Hollywood off Sunset Blvd. We were renting a house across from the “Halloween” movie house on Orange Grove. It’s strange how similar the situations are in some ways. Back then my mind brought up stories I’d heard from rape survivors. How one woman focused on a button and twisted it off to later be used in her assailant’s conviction. I remember I could hear her voice in my head as if she was standing next to me. The survival instincts are still there no matter how urban we have become.

    I spoke to the game warden, Davey Jones and after hearing the events he was more than a little concerned. He was mostly concerned about the length of time they’d observed us prior to revealing themselves. He said what I described was certainly cougar hunting behavior and they had indeed intended to make a meal out of one of us. Because of the time of year and the goofy behavior he believes they were two adolescents kicked out by their mama and learning to fend for themselves. He didn’t think any adult would try something so bold. He tried to assuage my fears by telling me there had only been ten fatal cat attacks in Washington in the last hundred years. This might have calmed someone else down, but I have a hard time with these statistics. I heard from the woman at Poison Control how exciting it was that the only poisonous insect in Western Washington had bitten me. In this particular case I’d like to be part of the crowd not the exception.

    As the game warden wondered why my house, I told him of the virtual lunch buffet of tender grass fed geese, succulent goat and pasture fed tender beef. The game warden gave me some new rules for a while. All animals and people are to be inside after until about 7:00AM and after 6:00PM to avoid peak hunting times. He strongly urged me to get pepper spray for everyone walking around the property and to keep air horns in different locations like the barn and the pavilion at the pond.
(Henry & Quackmire- orange tag)

Mr. Jones felt it would be absolutely bizarre for them to come out during the day, or to attack humans but asked if I wanted a hunter with hounds to come out and take care of the problem. I did not. The cats live here and belong here. I just don’t want to end up cat chow. He felt I was incredibly calm and reasonable.

“Now, there are some people who move up here from another state and well, they just get hysterical. It’s a good thing this happened to someone from around here. You did all the right things.”

He was so proud of my local courage, knowledge of wildlife situations and level head, I just didn’t have the heart to tell him I was from Los Angeles.

June 14th One Man's Treasure

 

(in honor of flag day)

    An honest to goodness work from morning ‘til night Ingalls-type-family-grab-your-own-food-on-the- run-workday, plus Mike. Cement was poured, gates were built, posts painted, forests of plants tamed.
(Henry begins his task)

(Henry works hard)

  (Henry keeps going)

(Not sure if the posts had more paint)
Henry continued his manhood training as father and son worked side by side. Per usual, the geese supervised while my father poked his head out of his apartment every few hours to see if we needed his opinion. Tired and worn down from the biopsy he was like “Uncle Joe, movin’ kinda slow at the junction, Petticoat Junction”.
    (father and son)  (Not my shining moment)
    My dad is at the point where he’s getting a feeling of impending doom. He’s sure he’s got full-blown bladder cancer and will be stuck here with me for the rest of his pitiful life. Strange that my paradise is someone else’s idea of hell.
(Gander with identity crisis - thinks he's a flamingo)

(Clara stretching her wings)

    I took Miracle on a little outing in her to practice walking on a lead. She did very well and even ventured to step on the scary rock driveway she’s been terrified to cross. But when I looked up I realized she could see Tom and was determined to go visit him. She grazed leisurely on grass near the geese that spooked her a bit, but she was ok. This was the first time she was out with the dogs around. I was nervous they might rush her and we’d have a wild kicking donkey on our hands. But Luther and Vivian stayed a respectful distance away. They greeted her and backed off. Irish tried to do the same, but his overwhelming puppiness got the better of him. Despite my pleas and screams he went and sniffed her hindquarters. I had visions of her cracking his head open. I was frantic, but nothing could be done. I had her lead and I wasn’t going to get in the line of fire. Graciously she allowed this invasion of privacy, but when he decided a donkey leg might be taste like chicken and wrapped his teeth around her, she drew the line. Irish received a swift kick. It was a warning kick; she didn’t finish him off or even greatly injure him. Humbled he limped off to go lick his wounds. Ahh, he learned he there is something bigger and tougher than the giant puppy – he was shocked.

    Being Tom’s last night, we drank leftover sangria and watched a movie. Watching a movie with Tom is a little like being by yourself. Within a few minutes he’s asleep. This comforts me on lonely nights when I pretend he’s there with me. Henry kept an eye on him and woke him up every few minutes. We were watching “Mad Money” with Diane Keaton. I mention this because I kept thinking of trying to get a job. I’ve been unsuccessful at every turn. After two sessions of role-playing, Home Depot™ hasn’t called me back. I thought I did really well when the big question was “What do you do when a disgruntled customer comes in and she’s throwing a party that night and…” I thought I’m in like Flynn. That question was right in my wheelhouse. But no. It’s been two weeks and not a word.

I thought of this when I was watching the movie. The premise is Diane Keaton is a Palisades kind of non-working educated woman who hits hard times and is overqualified, but gets a job as a janitor. As a result she devises a brilliant plan to rip off the Federal Reserve. I kept wondering if this was why I wasn’t getting hired.

After the educational film, Henry begged to sleep with his daddy so I retired to Henry’s room. No dogs, no cats, no snoring, a perfect night sleep for my weary bones.

June 13th A Good Time

   (Henry's teacher's gift)

    This morning I woke up very early and began trolling dew-covered ditches, hillsides and the pond for wildflowers. My trusty companion, Irish, trotted along next to me chewing on my reject pile. When I was done I was soaked, but I had created Henry’s teacher’s gift. I couldn’t afford much, but I picked up the vase at TJ MAXX™ for a song.

Creativity, I am convinced, is born of poverty. When I bought my first home I couldn’t really afford to do much, but I couldn’t stand it the way it was, so I had to get creative. I ripped out the bathroom and went around collecting broken tile from different stores – stuff they were going to discard. Toby and I went to Home Depot™ and got a little pamphlet on how to tile and set to improving my bathroom. Much to everyone’s surprise – especially my mother’s -  it looked fabulous. Thus I realized, if I’d had the money, I never would have gone to the trouble.

The day has rambled on. Henry had his “fifth grade culmination”, which was actually a small award assembly. He went on to a swim party on Lake Whatcom while Tom and I raced back to the house to get ready for our celebratory barbecue. With barely a word to each other we furiously tidied, cleaned, marinated and set up tables.

We’d decided to have our dinner out by the pond so we could enjoy the evening, rain or shine, thanks to our covered pavilion. This meant hauling Tom’s new half-gas half-briquette grill out there in the truck. He loves it because it looks like a steam locomotive.

Meanwhile, Mike and my father are down at the hospital in Mt. Vernon. My father is having a biopsy for bladder cancer. It is an outpatient procedure so he should be home by this evening. Mike’s happy because he can sit and read while he waits and avoid having to clean the house. He calls in every few hours to update us on my father’s condition. “He’s still sleeping” seems to sum it up.

    The  “guests”, meaning Lisa, Chris, Annie, Quinn, Phoebe and Henry, as well as Diane, Jordan and Lauren all arrived late. Thank the Lord.

    Despite our best efforts, we haven’t gotten the Mosquito Magnets™ up and running so we scattered tiki torches filled with Citronella™ around. This was not terribly effective, but we made do.

    Just after everyone arrived, my tired-but-otherwise-OK father arrived with Mike. A few more guests also made an appearance. Lloyd, Matilda, Quackmire, Cleveland, Clara, Ruthie, Alfred and Mabel waddled up for their first swim in the pond. They’ve turned out to be very clingy. These geese don’t like to be left alone and always want to be where the action is. Once they arrived we all held our breath waiting to see them frolic in the pond. They didn’t. They hated the pond and were afraid of the water. Apparently, I have the only geese this side of the Mississippi with hydrophobia. We tried putting them in the water to show them how wonderful it is, but they would just flap wildly, squawking frantically until they reached land once more. Confused, stunned and full of disbelief, we left them to their own devices, not wanting to emotionally scar them. After that they flapped contentedly around the party, coming in the pavilion to check on Tom’s cooking and say hello. Weirdoes. (Lisa giving swimming lessons to Cleveland) (more lessons)

    Little Chris Donaldson showed up with Roxy, Andrea (a new girlfriend he’s had a crush on since the sixth grade), and he also brought a surprise guest – his horse. He trailered “Oz” over for Henry to ride as a present. (Little Chris & Andrea)

(Henry on Oz)

    All in all, our first summer evening was relaxed and wonderful. The kids walked the goats and rode the tractor, played badminton and floated in the boat while we ate Tom's delicious ribs, cosmic beans, corn and watermelon, sipped my sangria and downed Diane’s brownies. (Jordan and her mother - Diane)

June 11th Getting Sleepy

(Emmett and Scarlett)

    Since Tom arrived, I have been reduced from “job foreman” to “little helper.” I’m grateful really, but it requires an attitude adjustment. Instead of holding the drill, I’m holding a handful of screws and the level. There is no question that his work is superior so I relinquish my position willingly.

    It’s light until after 10:00PM, so we’ve been working from 7:00AM until after 9:30PM furiously trying to get everything done on our home improvement list before Pea leaves. I know it isn’t going to happen but we still try. On the bright side, the front porch is now complete – well, I'll have to sand and paint it after he leaves but the steps, uprights, gate including the latch are all finished and functioning. Check.

   
Our next project is the fence we designed to surround the area that will one day be a patio. The first task of course in the fence building process is to dig the holes for the posts. The job I dread most. This was the job I was so happy I wouldn’t have to do because handsome and strong Prince Charming was here and would save me from the big, bad posthole digger. The fence is calculated to need 32 holes dug - a foot wide by 18 inches –24 inches deep. Unfortunately, my fairy godmother neglected to tell me Prince Charming has a bad back. I knew Tom wore a back brace when he worked, but I never dreamed this would mean I would be digging postholes. But there I was, in the pouring rain digging hole after hole while he came by with his giant measuring stick to tell me whether or not I'd gone deep enough. I tried to go into a Zen like state concentrating on the task, enjoying the pain. I thought of happy things like taking care of unsightly under arm granny swing - just in time for summer tees. I tried to convince myself of good forturne, after all in Los Angeles I could be paying twenty dollars an hour for this kind of torment. Of course, I wouldn’t be getting this facial and full body mud treatment at the same time, very few places offer this exclusive combination.

    My father, although in his seventies is still as strong as an ox (and I know of what I speak) came outside to survey the situation. He's not much for chores, he usually rolls his eyes back and moans. This time he took one look at me grabbed the posthole digger, and said the nicest thing I think I’ve ever heard, “Hey, I’ll dig for awhile, why don’t you take a break?” I think I heard angels sing.

    Thirty-two holes later, I found myself exhausted. We were making good progress, but discovered a rotten cottonwood about to fall down in the cluster of trees where we’re putting up the fence. We considered trying to pull them with the tractor, but when I learned the leading cause of death among beaver is falling trees they cut themselves I thought it best to call our tree guy, Nick. After all if the experts make fatal mistakes then who are we?

    In the mean time, we began mixing concrete and setting posts while the geese waddled about giving unwanted advice. We were watching them investigate what were doing when suddenly we saw Lloyd put his entire face in a glob of concrete. He pulled it out and his bill was gray. His nose holes plugged up. I ran him down pinned him on the ground and swished his head under water in the baby pool to clear him out. Silly goose.

(Lloyd eats cement)

    Strange as it may seem, Nick called in the afternoon, and was available and willing to come out right away. When surveyed the situation he told us the "leaner" wouldn't even need to be sawed it was so far gone. With the help of his friend and Prince Charming, the "Halloween" tree, the "leaner" and one I didn't even know was bad all came down lickety-split.
(Strong and handsome doing manly stuff with local logger)

("Halloween" tree coming down)

    At days end, I can’t keep my eyes open. I can barely stay awake through dinner. I couldn’t figure it out at first, then I remembered what I call the “Lisa Phenomena”- I fall asleep whenever I go to Lisa’s house – When I'm there I have no responsibilities I have no chores, no goats to feed, no stalls to clean and I simply check out. I start by just sitting down a minute. I sink back into her overstuffed sofa and begin taking long blinks. My eyes get heavy and everything seems warm and fuzzy. The next thing I know hours have slipped by.  I think having Tom here creates the same thing. He’s come to take charge and so I relax. He shoulders my burden - I suppose you could say he is the stud and I am a lowly 2x4.

May 26th More, More More

    Jarred awake by the howling of a coyote. I practically levitated from my bed and flew to the window. Peering out and listening intently, I tried to decide which direction it was coming from, but I couldn’t be sure - the echo off the hills made it almost impossible.

    It was probably silly, but I threw my boots on and grabbed Vivian who was already sitting for her leash. By this time, Mike had his coat on and flashlight in hand. I just wanted to see my goats and donkey. I knew they were ok, but I guess it’s like checking your child in the middle of the night. You know they’re fine but you want to see them breathe in and out.
 

    I’ve learned over time that dogs don’t bark at coyotes like they do other animals; they don’t want to give up their position. So we made our way to the barn silently. Vivian was sniffing madly. Peeing here and peeing there. I hoped this close to the house it was because of Irish or a raccoon and not a coyote. We got to the barn and all was well. The goats and Miracle were indeed up and listening to the coyote’s carrying on, but were tucked safely in their barn, nice and safe. Everyone had an early snack and we headed back to the house. It was 4:00AM – it would be light in half an hour. I thought about staying up and, if Mike had mentioned it, I would have. But, luckily for both of us, he didn’t. Before I went back to bed I checked on Henry. He hadn’t heard a thing; he sleeps like the dead. When he was about three Tom and I were sleeping at someone else’s house. We heard a loud crash from the room Henry was in, but I didn’t hear any crying, which terrified me. Racing to the room I kept wondering what on earth had happened and why wasn’t he crying? It seems after we went to bed he woke and climbed up to the top bunk. The bunk beds were arranged in an “L”. He fell off the top bunk in his sleep and knocked down the roman shades, landing on the bottom bunk. When I arrived he was still asleep. The USC marching band could go through his room when he was an infant and he’d sleep like a baby.

    Three hours later I woke up to find my hands contorted into claws. The muscles were so sore it hurt to try and open my palms. The rest of me ached, but the pain in my hands was debilitating. Tom said I needed to put heat on them any way I could. First, I tried warm water. I looked for a hot water bottle, but couldn’t find one. Then it occurred to me. I warmed up my coffee in the microwave and wrapped my hands around it. It felt glorious. My hands were starting to relax. I stretched them and had another cup of coffee – for medicinal purposes.


(Luther with his geese)


(Luther and his gaggle)

(Henry finds another friend)
    Again, we worked in the yard all day. The sun was slow to come out, but it made an appearance around noon. Mike cut old barbed wire, freeing up some metal posts we needed to put up a protective fence around the vegetable garden. I learned from Mr. McGregor. And he didn’t even have Irish, who by now had eaten one of my Marionberry plants and ravaged one of my Early Girl tomatoes.

    Henry and I got our exercise trying to start the weed whacker. I would count in sets of ten. Together we got it going several times, but it either ran out of gas or the little cord would break and we’d have to try again. My dad came out and mowed some with the tractor. I felt like I had a whole yard crew.

    Three days of hard labor later and we still haven’t planted a gosh darn seed. We got a few things going in the flower garden. A few of my favorite floribundas - iceberg roses; a couple of rosemary plants necessary to a rural kitchen garden; and a Sarah Bernhardt peony I've always wanted, were put in the ground. Huzzah!

     Don’t get me wrong - it was a wonderful three days. The geese roamed about making nuisances of themselves, Irish clowned, Luther lolled wherever he would be most in the way and Vivian stayed cool underneath the front porch.

(These goslings never want to be too far away for fear they might miss something)

    When we were finished cleaning up, we all went to the pond. Mike sat on the dock while I floated in the little raft listening to the birds, reveling in the breeze and watching Henry skip stones, chase Irish and cast his line vowing to catch dinner. Henry laughed all weekend and forgot about his troubles with Kanisha until he went to bed and began to beg not to go to school in the morning.

May 17th Phoebe Dolittle

         

   

  I woke up to “bang, bang, bang! Bang, bang, Bang! It sounded like construction, but we're so far from anyone that didn't really make sense. I heard it again, so this time I got up. Now awake, I had a pretty good idea who was causing all this racket, so I tiptoed down the stairs and crept out the back door past Irish, the sleeping giant. Bang, Bang, Bang. I went around the side of the garage, looked around and there he was, one of my noisy neighbors - the woodpecker hammering on the metal roof of the tractor barn. An industrious if misguided little fella, on par with Wally as far as work ethic. He sounded like a jackhammer as his head bobbed up and down. I have seen a lot of woodpeckers in my time, but I can't quite decide which kind he is. I thought at first he was a Pilated Woodpecker, but he doesn't quite match. Then I thought he was a Red-headed woodpecker, but again he doesn't quite match that description either.

(now positioned on a tree)

    I'd just gone in for coffee when Phoebe came trotting down the stairs, still groggy from sleep. She’d konked out during the movie last night and was up much earlier than I’d planned.

    “When are we going to see the geese?” she inquired with some amount of urgency.

    “Good morning to you too. Well, why don’t you get dressed or at least put some shoes on and I’ll drink my coffee.” Reluctantly, she went upstairs as I sipped. Grateful I’d kept her at bay for a few minutes. Before I’d finished my cup she was back downstairs, wide-eyed and ready to go.

    “Did you brush your teeth?” I asked, hoping to buy a few more minutes of quiet.

    “Yes, I brushed my teeth,” she answered with all the seven-year-old attitude she could muster.

    “Are you lying?”

    “Noooo I'm not lying. I brushed my teeth. Get up. Let’s go. C’mon I want to see the geese and the goats and walk to the pond and give the cows some cookies. You can bring your coffee” I’ve learned in these situations to just pour another cup of coffee and get with the program or you’re fighting a force of enthusiasm that will eventually overcome you.

(Phoebe waiting for me to finish my coffee) ( Emmet climbs on)

(Phoebe & Mabel) (Phoebe after being goosed)     (Phoebe & the barn animals) (Phoebe & Christina)

    

    After our morning escapade, Phoebe followed the recipe for Krusteaz™ Belgian waffles, deciding not to add nutmeg and hint of cinnamon like Henry. She’s a purist.

    Henry finally stumbled downstairs  a couple of hours later and smelled the waffles.

    “She didn’t add the nutmeg and cinnamon, did she?” Henry has loved his waffles this way ever since he saw Billy Ray Cyrus put cinnamon and a hint of nutmeg in his waffles on "Hannah Montana". He corrected the problem before pouring the batter into the waffle iron. By this time, Mike had finally gotten up. Despite his belief that sleeping late is some kind of mortal sin, he manages not to come downstairs on the weekends until almost 11:30AM or sometimes even as late as 1:00PM. He rationalizes this by explaining he was awake in his room. How this differs I’m not at all sure, but it makes him feel better. I, on the other hand, have no problem with lolling about. I just can’t seem to relax when I see so many darn unfinished projects, but I’m the kind of person who has a hard time staying home sick when the house is a mess. I don't necessarily clean up them mess, rather I go to work sick. I feel as though I’ve got to clean it up and, if I don’t I’m out of sorts. Given this, you’d think my house was immaculate. It isn’t. At the moment it’s what I like to call in flux. The spice cabinet is just this side of alphabetical, but there are still boxes and papers in the office that need to be filed. The missing drywall doesn’t help. My room has a pile of clothes that rivals the pyramids needing to be given away and I don’t make my bed as often as I should. Although I know I’d be happier if I did.

    Once everyone was fed, the syrup wiped up, the dishes loaded and another pot of coffee was brewing, we all went out to tackle the flower garden fence. Much to my surprise, the cement we’d poured a week ago had not truly hardened. Reportedly, it had poured for two days straight while Henry and I were at Mountain School. As a result some of the posts had sat in wet cement for so long they’d sunk down an inch or so. My dad, Mike, the kids and I tried to fix the fence, but after a while it was evident we’d have to pull out some of the posts and start over. “If you don’t do it right it’s not worth doing” rings in my head every time I want to take a short cut. That man haunts me through any sort of construction project.

    “You’re going to pull the post out? #@#$%! Deal me out,” my father predictably grumbled, lowering his head. His opinion is negated by the fact that he thinks everything is good enough and anything can be fixed if you pound it hard enough with a hammer.

    “Yes, because I’m not going to look at this fence for the next ten years and hate it. And I don’t want Tom to come home and be disappointed.”

    “Let Tom fix it then,” he growled. Mike laughed nervously in some sort of complicit agreement. I started pulling out the post without any further discussion. It slipped out of the ground with frightening ease. The cement did not even adhere to the post. I continued taking out the incorrect posts and after some coaxing and cajoling my dad, Mike and the kids all helped get the fence done right. We couldn’t do everything, because we had to wait for the posts to at least harden a little.

    The kids spent the afternoon walking back and forth to the pond several times and splashing in the water. They came back with their boots soaked. But they were all smiles talking very fast of their adventures. They went inside and made a pitcher of lemonade before they took the goats out for a walk. Only Rachel and Christina were on lead ropes. Riley and Alexander just tagged along due to their herding instinct. Rachel is the herd queen so they’ll all eventually go wherever she goes. Riley and Alexander scampered about racing up and down the hill nibbling on bushes and butting heads.

(Phoebe the goat girl) Although the pine trees did distract the boys, they stayed together beautifully. I hope pine isn’t harmful to them because they seemed to love the needles. Unfortunately, they also had a penchant for my blueberry bushes. So I ran over shooing everyone away as I have visions of blueberry crumble dancing in my head.

    Watching them I felt like I should hear yodeling. Henry actually yelled “Riiiicoooolaaaa” at one point.

    After that, they moved on to calling the geese and intermittently helping build the fence. I gave a couple of lessons in power tools and everyone worked with the level. Phoebe loved the cement mixer just as much as Henry. (Phoebe goes solo)

(Henry shows how it's done)

    “Are we ready for cement?” she asked hopefully every few minutes. She got the same boring we-have-to-do-this-and-that-first-before-we-pour answers.

    Late in the afternoon, Lisa and “Nana”, Chris’ mother Anne came out to fetch the Pheeb. Anne hadn’t been here before so we took a tour of the property and discovered the snakes have come out from hibernation. I jumped a mile every single time we saw one. Lisa kept saying things like “Isn’t he dashing.” “This guy is really quite handsome, look at his yellow stripe.” She suggested that if she caught one and I held one I might feel better. Now, I know they can’t hurt me, they’re small and there isn’t a poisonous snake in Western Washington, so it’s not like they’re rattlers, or Water Moccasins, (which is why no one in their right mind should live in Florida) but let’s just say I’m not wearing sandals anytime soon. I’ve got to figure out how to keep the grass lower because I’m afraid of my own yard. Lisa suggested the next logical step was a heritage mongoose. On our walk we found a bird’s nest with a broken egg, five snakes, a small field mouse in the last throes of life as well as countless frogs and toads. Taking a walk to the pond is like a mini-camping trip. I don’t think we saw this much wildlife except the deer in the North Cascades.

    When we got back to the house, Lisa went in and had a heart-to-heart talk with Henry. He’s had some trouble lately following directions and is making quite a few bad choices. He is ten after all, but I don’t like to chalk things up to “he’s a boy”. I’ve seen that go wrong too many times. So Lisa talked to him. She has a way of making you spill your guts. The two of them have a great rapport and he told her things he’s been afraid to tell me for fear of disappointing me. Crying he told me he needed to tell me a few things. A kind of cleansing of the soul which is why we have confession. I'm grateful Henry has Lisa to talk to. It's hard on all of us with Tom so far away, but with fathers in Iraq he isn't the only one who doesn't see his daddy every day.

    (Grandpa Horn & Phoebe give the geese a much appreciated shower)

     After Phoebe lost the battle of “Can I spend another night at Tante’s?” (German for aunt) Lisa, Anne and Phoebe went to her van to leave. They had to get back in time to take Quinn to her next party. She has a very full social calender. Leaving less than a minute and a half to spare - verging on late (as usual),  Lisa gathered her things and her child and finally got to the van only to discover somehow her keys had been locked inside. Why did she lock her car? No one knows.

    “Mom, we can call the dealer.They'll come.”

    “Honey, that will take a long time and it’s not the dealer it’s Triple A.”

    Reluctantly, I offered my Odyssey. Not that I mind Lisa taking my van, but I was completely embarrassed at the state of it. I had papers and PopTarts™ littering the floor. Coffee cups were strewn about. My initial resolve to keep it clean had waned. I handed handfuls of shirts and envelopes to Henry and gave the keys to Lisa shamefaced. As they were driving off, Anne offered to come out and help me clean. I should have said, “No, you don’t need to do that,” but I didn’t. She’s a great cleaner and I’m in no position to deny needing help.

    Mike, Henry and I cleaned up our construction mess, put away Tom's tools, herded the geese who’d been mowing the lawn all day back in the garage and settled in for the night. My father had already gone into Bellingham. It was, after all, Saturday night.

    We decided to watch “Sleepless in Seattle”. Of course, I’ve seen it many times, but it was like watching it for the first time, watching it from Washington. We laughed like only people in the Pacific Northwest do when we saw Tom Hanks carrying an umbrella. No one carries an umbrella. Only dorky tourists from California carry "dumbrellas" (as Tom calls them). And then there were several scenes where it wasn’t raining at all and some were actually sunny – in the winter. We weren’t even sure it was actually filmed in the Northwest at this point. Exhausted, I was moisturizing in my blue strawberry PJs and fuzzy socks. and just about in bed at 11:45PM when the phone rang. It was my father’s cell; when I answered I could hear music and a lot of laughing.

    “Hey, I just thought I’d let you know, we finished and I’ve been invited to a party, so I’ll be home late. Hey, I met a nice young shy girl who's name means harmony and beauty in Vietnamese.”  What? Honestly, This must be what it’s like to have a teenager. All I can say is at seventy-one, the man has a joie de vive.

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May 9th A Little Bit of This & That

(Luther taking a sunbath)

    I was drunk with sunshine from the moment I opened my eyes. On the radio they report a condition called "sun shock". I understand it's when you're driving along and you see sun. I guess there are increased accidents because people can't see the road.

     I’ve gotten a little behind this week, my friend, Kathy wouldn’t be surprised to know I’ve got laundry piling up. The floor needs mopping and I haven’t gotten much at the grocery store so we’re playing a little game my mother used to play called “What can we make for dinner out of what we have in the cupboard.” But I don't mind because I am trying hard this week to move things forward. You know, the bigger projects that need your full attention. Instead of the everyday things that will still be there on Monday morning. For me, it’s all about fences. Of course, there’s the fence for the dogs. Its design is becoming an engineering marvel and then I’m trying to get a flower garden fence in as well as a vegetable garden fence. After all we live on a farm; a vegetable garden is almost mandatory, isn’t it? Plus, we need really need a second pasture fence for the goats and Miracle. They just don’t have enough room where they are. That enclosure was always meant as temporary. Tom’s planning to build some sort of goat “tree”; it’s the same concept as a cat tree but for goats. I don’t know what it’s going to look like yet, but he thinks they don’t have enough playground equipment so he’s planning on using some old tree stumps and whatever else we have lying around.

It’s funny how fences work. They’re to keep some animals in as well as others out. And somehow they always make a space look bigger. I don’t know why that is, but it seems true. I marked out where I want my flower garden and somehow the amount of weeds seemed to double.

   

I wanted to go to get the materials I needed for the fence in the farm truck, but it wouldn't start. Dead Battery. We haven’t used it all winter because there really hasn’t been a need so it’s been sitting around with branches in it since November. The branches came from a cottonwood tree that was chopped down in September. September -  and this is May. My dad got the jumper cables I pulled up my trusty Odyssey and we got Daisy the Farm Truck humming again. When we went to the back of the truck to clear it out we were shocked to see that the branches were blooming. They had been absorbing so much water since they were cut down that they are still alive. And blooming.

    "Well there's so much of this crap it's no wonder," my glass-is-half-empty father said alluding to the constant drizzle.
(close up)

    Vicky Jackson, my wetlands consultant, and her assistant Clover came out this afternoon to do a wet season wetlands check while I was moving the goslings out to their new home in the garage. As I’ve mentioned before Washington State takes its wetlands buffers very seriously so everything is checked and double-checked. This means Vicky and Clover go down by the stream and check for signs of soggy ground and wetlands grass etc. Interestingly, dandelions don’t go to wetlands until much later in the season. Anyway, the good news is Vicky seems to think all is as it should be so we can proceed with the country permits as far as that goes. And we are due for the annual Cascade Toad migration that moves through our property. So stay tuned.

    The goslings spent a lovely afternoon eating weeds and sunning themselves in the grass and are now safely tucked into their new digs with a five-gallon water jug that should last them at least a couple of hours. Those geese drink a lot of water. I bought them a new heat lamp and replaced the one that burned out because the garage gets cold at night. We still get in the thirties in the evenings but with the lamps they should be fine. I put them on either side so no one will be left out in the cold like in that horribly depressing “March of the Penguins”.

(Alfred Sitting Down)

   

Alfred is doing better hobbling around. He went to the vet this week and had an x-ray of his leg. The doctor said he would probably do fine because he is a heritage breed. And when his feathers finish coming in his balance will improve. She said compared to so many modern geese that get too fat heritage breeds are proportioned better and, so, much better equipped to cope. She told me some of her clients have gotten regular turkeys as pets and these turkeys are bred just to gain weight and land on someone’s table so they have heart attacks and other problems that lead to early death. The birds are simply not designed to live. I guess this is becoming a common phenomenon today. Take the Kentucky Derby, for instance. They said many breeders are breeding horses with lighter bone structures which leads to more fractures and early death because they’re just being bred to run until they’re three or so. They’re not bred to live either. Sad.