Is this edible?
Gutsy9 update in the form of a haiku
Atop my shoulder
This beautiful little friend
My teenage peacock
[Many thanks to Samantha for this photo of G9 yesterday].
June 1st
Well I had my month off blogging, and only kept up with other people’s blogs haphazardly, and I have to say it was a refreshingly silent month. It has given me the time needed to reassess a few things, turn some corners, contemplate the future, and come to terms better with Anthony’s deterioration.
Gutsy 9, the not-so-baby peacock, is thriving and now sleeps in the wattle trees at night with the other peacocks, and is quick enough to get away from our two dogs now. He still does madly joyful pirouettes whenever he hears my voice and loves to fly up onto my shoulder for a kiss. (I don’t have a new picture of this so have included one from when he was little. He is now twice this size, so rather heavy).
Ming is still happily milking for our dairy farmer neighbours, and creating music in the evenings. He gave me 4 nights at a luxury resort for Mothers’Day – not a bad gift!
I still battle bouts of volcanic grief about what is happening to Anthony, but have learned a few more ways of bringing joy back into our little family.
It’s good to back and thanks for the many comments. This is a lovely community.
Grateful
When I got an email from doudou (my blog friend), I went to her blog and saw this! I’m a bit emotional at the moment so I cried and laughed at the same time.
Thank you so much, doudou, for upside-downing my frown into a great big grin.
Let me in!
Gutsy9 (the 5-month-old peachick I raised inside the house because none of our peahens were interested) is thriving outside now. He sleeps in a pen with the ducks, Zaruma and Tapper, but every morning I find him in the adjacent pen with the turkeys, Bubble and Baby Turkey! Oh well at least he doesn’t venture into the geese pen because Godfrey hates him.
As soon as I open the three pens to let them all free-range for the day, I am met with a cacophony of excited noises and then G9 actually sprints after me to the house and follows me inside.
Until today. Today I decided to say no to him, and tried to explain that his peacock poop is the reason. He wasn’t happy!
Oh and G9 is definitely a boy because our friend, Mike, who raises peas told me so. I’m not as thrilled as Anthony was when Ming was born and he yelled IT’S A BOY!
Secretly I was hoping for a little peahen – ha!
Baby birds
Gutsy9 isn’t quite sure about my mother’s weird canary, Andre, who I am babysitting while she is in hospital. Five months ago they were the same size!
Gold digger guffaws
When a young woman marries a man who is 23 years older than she is, the term ‘gold digger’ tends to fly through country towns such as this one, and sometimes insinuates itself into the gossip of all and sundry.
Ming was conceived on our honeymoon (March 1993) and born a very decent 9 months later (January 1994) but, by this time, I had already been labelled as a gold digger. I wasn’t happy about this but there was nothing I could do about it. Anthony laughed the gossip off, and so did I, eventually.
So imagine my shock when my friend – JL – informed me yesterday that she had recently heard a story from her brother-in-law (who is friends with the bus driver at Anthony’s nursing lodge) about me!
Me: What?
JL: Well the bus driver told N that they sometimes take the men’s group for a visit to a farm that has peacocks.
Me: Yes – it’s a wonderful arrangement because they bring tea and scones and feed the birds and it’s a great way of getting Ants home for a couple of hours.
JL: But the bus driver said that every time they come to the peacock farm, the young lady who owns the farm starts kissing and cuddling one of the residents – a bloke called Anthony – and she is all over him, obviously after his money.
Me: What?
JL: It’s okay, N. told him you were Anthony’s wife.
Me: Oh thank goodness – what must they have all been thinking!
I’m guffawing too much to go out for my daily gold-digging expedition!
Nose-blowing noise attracts nosy peacocks
Lately the peacocks have begun congregating outside my office and staring curiously at me through the flyscreen door. They’ve never done this before. They used to come to the back veranda door in the hope of bread but I stopped doing that ages ago when their poop began to replace the pavement.
Today I realized that their staring-at-me-through-the flyscreen-door-behaviour was due to my hayfever and the noise I make when I blow my nose. It almost exactly resembles their loud hoot-honking noise. They must think I’m calling them! Of course Gutsy9 is the first one to come running.
jmgoyder 