Woodroffe
Pearl
Angelina
Brad
Phoenix 1
Diamond
Inviolable
I love this word so much.
It signifies strength, fortitude, courage and it means you can step off the metaphorical mountain and freefall into the water and easily – very easily – swim to the shore.
Inviolable.
If I had had a daughter I would have called her Viola!
A visual feast – http://tracielouisephotography.net/
Baby wren
Budgie, I think!
I’m not sure what this is.
Wagtail
Kookaburra. One of these once smashed through a window into our house!
Osprey
Twins
Tracie’s blog is both a visual and a verbal feast and I am enriched every time I visit it!
When the status quo shifts
When we first got Okami and Uluru we didn’t know that, underneath all that wool, they were quite little!
Once they had been shorn (earlier this year), we got rather a shock and had to retrain our brains to see them the way they are now instead of the way they were.
I don’t like to be overtly symbolic but this is very similar to the way Husband/Anthony, Son and I have had to retrain our brains in order to tune into the ‘now’ of Anthony’s Parkinson’s disease and its associated dementia.
In many ways, this creeping dementia is okay but in other ways its evidence always gives me an alpaca-shock!
“You were pretty crazy on the phone last night,” I say to Anthony. “Are you normal again?”
“Jules, I was at this party at Kingley Park.”
“Okay, so where are you now?”
“I’m at this place, you know, the old age home. When are you coming in?”
“Tomorrow morning – is that okay?”
“Bring me some of that chocolate I like, you know the one?”
“Yes. I’ll ring you to say goodnight.”
“Well don’t make it too late because I might be in bed.”
…………………………………………………………………………………………….
There is something extremely comforting about these phone conversations, but also discomforting (or is the word ‘discomfiting’?). On the one hand Anthony seems comfortable and content, though lonely. On the other hand, he often sounds confused but when I see him (every couple of days now), he is always perfectly lucid and the friends and relatives who visit him say the same.
I am about to go out and feed Okami and Uluru so I will ask them. Their huge eyes are always full of gentle wisdom.
Out-foxing the fox
If you were a fox, would you attack or retreat?
If I were a fox, I would retreat!
Sitting on the fence
Out of all of the ducks and geese, Tapper, our female Muscovy duck, is the only one who can fly. Even Zaruma, the Muscovy drake, can’t fly even though he is supposed to be able to. So, because I put all of them into their yards for the night, it always amazes me to find Tapper outside the next morning, having a lovely time all by herself.
For weeks I had assumed Tapper simply flew up and over the high fence of the yard, but I had never seen her do it. During the day I would often see her fly off the ground (to a height of around 2 feet) and horizontally across the lawn, but the yard fences are very high now (about 7 feet) so, one evening, after locking the gang in, I sat and watched because I wanted to see her fly vertically up and over fence.
I watched and waited from a bit of a distance. Then Tapper did her trick and, when I saw her do it, I couldn’t stop laughing because she doesn’t fly up and over; she actually climbs the fence using her big webbed feet and her wings to flap herself upward. Then she sits on the fence, like this.
Sometimes Tapper poses on top of the fence for ages, swaying back and forth (she can do this for over an hour!), as if to say to the others, ‘You think I’m a little squirt, but now I’m the biggest – nyahnyahnyah!!!’
She has the most incredible sense of balance!
Quick apology before the power goes out again!
This is just a note to my blogfellows: I will catch up with your posts soon but can’t sustain at the moment, due to our freak/freakish storm. I have had to delete most of the last two day’s worth of email notifications in order to keep my sanity – very sorry!
Storm 2
Two days ago I went into the local town (Bunbury) to see Anthony at the nursing lodge. It had been raining and windy but I hadn’t actually heard the weather forecast so I was surprised to find tree branches all over the road as I travelled into town. At the nursing lodge, which is right near the beach, the wind was strong but not overwhelming, but 5 minutes into my visit the wind became an audible howl and I opened Anthony’s curtains so we could see. The little trees in the garden were being whipped around madly and I said I thought I better go home as one of the nurses said a big storm was coming.
“Oh sure,” Anthony said, uncharacteristically grouchy, “I’ll be an old man next time you see me.” He was walking me slowly to the exit, then he stopped and looked up at me (I am much taller than him now because of his stoop). “Oh, that’s right, I am an old man aren’t I,” and he chuckled. “That’s for sure,” I laughed.
Outside the rain began to pelt down as I leapt into the car, and my 15 kilometre trip home was hair-raising. There were trees down everywhere in all of the paddocks and the road was almost blocked here and there by trees, branches and debris. As I turned into our little country town a shed was rolling across the road this way and that and momentarily seemed to somersault towards me so I sped up, wanting to get home quickly in the hope things would be better. But when I got home it was worse – the wind was almost impossible to walk against and inside the whole house was rattling. It was about 2.30 in the afternoon so Son had gone off to the neighbours to milk the cows. I turned on the radio to hear the weather forecast and at that moment the power went out.
The weather was so wild that I was afraid to go outside and very worried about Son who soon came back saying they couldn’t milk the cows because there was no electricity. It wasn’t until around 11am yesterday that he and his boss could milk the cows with the aid of a generator for electricity. By this time, of course, many of the cows were suffering from mastitis having missed two milkings.
A few hours later the power came on again but only lasted a couple of hours which is when I wrote my posts and read a few blogs. Then it went off again and only came back some time in the middle of the night last night. Son went over to milk at 3am (it’s usually 5am) and apparently things can go back to normal with milking this afternoon at the usual 3pm.
Another storm is predicted for tonight, but here is a link to a news item. Thankfully, it seems that no person has been hurt so far.
http://au.news.yahoo.com/thewest/a/-/breaking/13917214/western-power-battles-storm-damage/
To give you an indication of the ferocity of the storm here on this little farm, one of the massive wattle trees that the peafowl and guinnea fowl sleep in has come down, some of the guttering on our roof has catapulted to the ground, there are huge branches all over the place, bits of the old washhouse have peeled off, the dogs will need psychiatric treatment and I have a new respect for electricity.
And the birds? Without exception, they have all absolutely loved every minute of this excitement and none have been injured. Oh to be a bird!
Storm
We are experiencing a cyclonic storm beyond anything I have ever seen before. The electricity has just come on after 24 hours but I don’t think it will last so this is just a quick post. I think the storm has hit a lot of Western Australia. Very frightening.
Rooster refuge
Roosters are the ‘unsung’ of the poultry world because they’re not very necessary. In fact, they are completely unnecessary if you just want eggs and, even if you want to breed chickens, you only need a single rooster for a whole bunch of chooks. People are constantly advertising free roosters or cheap roosters and some of the ads read a bit like this: Ten roosters FREE, wonderful breeders, lovely natures, not overly noisy – seller is willing to travel up to 1,000 kms for FREE delivery. Be quick or you will miss out! Well, you get the picture.
However, if roosters are re-perceived as birds, rather than as poultry, they become quite a different category altogether. (I’m thinking of writing an article called “In defense of the rooster” for the local poultry magazine so this is a practice run – hehe!)
You see at the moment we have four roosters and no hens (chooks). Most of the chooks were killed during that dark night of the fox several months ago, and we lost the remaining few, one by one, until only the roosters were left. Here is a picture of Malay and No-Name about to go to bed. They sleep in that tree, high up in its branches, safe from the fox.
And here is Tina Turner (who has featured in previous posts), wondering whether to join the peacocks on the car. He eventually decides that the table might be a better roost.
And here is our relatively new rooster (given to us) on his first day here, not sure whether he is being scrutinized or worshipped by the peafowl. NK (short for New Kid) has adapted very well and the other three roosters adore him, so much so that he has been given his own special bedtime branch in the tree.
All four roosters have their own personalities:
Malay (raised by his mother under a shed here) is big, strong and loud, and loves flying.
No-Name is shy, deferential and always waits his turn when I am hand-feeding them.
Tina Turner is vain and aggressive; he particularly likes to fly at my legs and claw me but I have now decided that this is his version of a hug.
NK is gradually becoming the head rooster for some reason and the others seem to think he is a kind of god.
“Why do you have so many roosters?” poultry people ask me.
“I just love them,” I say.
Note: We are getting hens soon!
jmgoyder 