This is not what our "herd" currently looks like.  First of all, all of our cows (that is both of them) are black baldies.  We did have three head of cattle.   One cow (I will tell you that story in a minute), one heifer calf, and one bigger heifer (I already told you that story here). 

A few weeks ago I was mowing the side yard when I looked over and saw our mama cow laying in the barnyard lot.  She was laying in a strange way, so I stopped the mower and walked over.  She was dead...she was unbelievably just dead.  It must have happened fairly recent to my finding her because her calf nursed off of her while I was watching and seemed to be getting some milk.  Kent had suspected that she was older than the farmer who sold her to us had told us she was.  But whatever was the issue, she is now gone.  Well, she is in the corner of the field (which is where we dragged her to), and sometimes, when the air is very still, there is an unpleasant odor.  We are down to two head of cattle.  That is one reason we are nowhere near the label of "Homesteader," but are just plain ole' "Mom and Pop" farmers.

I really began this post to relate two different stories that happened to us over the last two days, but thinking about one of those two stories reminded me of the recent dead mama cow.

We had an event last night to attend.  Kent also had a meeting to attend (by Zoom) part way through the first event (which was a concert that my nephew, D. Jay, was giving at the Lemonade House Grill in town).  Our idea was to leave home quite early so that Kent could order his food, eat, and then sneak out to join his Zoom meeting.  And we did just that.  We left about 30 minutes before we would have otherwise.  But, as providence would have it, after passing Uncle Ken and Kenny Joe's house, we saw an old tree had fallen right across the road, effectively blocking our only exit.  Kent got out to see if the two of us could move the tree.  Nothing doing.  So, we turned around and headed to Billy's house to see if he could bring the tractor.  It was a relief to see that he hadn't already left for the same event, and he brought the tractor and drove to the tree.  By the time we got back there were already two cars lined up on the other side.  They were as stuck as we were, except they were trying to get in, not out.

The tractor was a trooper and moved that heavy tree, and we were soon on our merry way.  However, instead of being early, we were just barely on time, and Kent didn't make his meeting because his food wasn't even ordered until the music was well underway.  By the time he ate, it was nearly finished.  The other committee members were quite understanding!

Then today the Harding and Martin families was going on a float trip on the Sparkling Jewel (Current River).  I was sliding through the morning trying to get several things done before we left.  In the midst of my sliding, I looked out the front computer room window and saw a large black thing.  The large black thing, on closer inspection, turned out to be Chocolate Milk (our calf).  This escape entailed quite a bit of work repairing the fence using old roofing tin and old fencing.  Thank God for baling wire!  It is almost as good as duct tape to fix things.

But, again, we came skidding in just in the nick of time to the float office and didn't miss a thing from the family float.  In fact we had a lovely time!

But, it just shows to go you.  I mean it just goes to show you, to be grateful even in the midst of difficulties.  I thanked God all last evening that that tree didn't hit a passing car when it fell.  It could have killed one of us.  I also thanked God today that the calf didn't get out while Kent was gone.  I would not have been able to fix the fence alone, or at least would have had a much harder time doing so. 

The best laid plans....

 

We had a calf born just after Christmas last year.  Kent really likes to castrate his bull calves on the 2nd or 3rd day after birth before they get too big for us Mom and Pop farmers to handle.  It never really happens that way, though, and we usually have a big ape of a bull calf before we get to castrate it. Still, hope springs eternal in the small farmer's heart, so we began to try in any way possible to sneak up on that calf to castrate it.  We tried for weeks.  We tried in the day; we tried at night.  

We were convinced it was a bull calf.  It's momma is particularly skittish about her babies, and she wasn't having any part of us getting close to either her or the calf.  Joel, however, got close enough one day that he said, "It's a bull calf!"  And Natalie got close enough one day to say, "I am pretty sure it's a bull calf."

Day after day we tried to get close to the calf.  One night, Tyler and Kent tried to sneak up in the dark and use the calf-catcher that Tyler brought with him.  Didn't work.  We looked at ways to make a homemade calf scooper upper, but they really were beyond what we felt we could finagle.

Finally, I took to feeding hay and calling in the cows.  Kent though the momma would be less intimidated by me.  She was really resistant to coming into the barnyard to eat at all, and he was worried because there wasn't any grass left in the field for her.  It took several days, but finally one day after I fed the hay and walked away, she went in to eat.  Progress!  Hope began to sparkle again.  A few mornings later, just after daylight, I fed hay, and she came in to eat.  I snuck around the barn, and ran to shut the gate.  We had her, her calf, and the other 2 year old heifer in the lot!  So, I called Kent (cell phones have their use!), and he called Billy, and the game was on.

Together we maneuvered the two big cows out and kept the calf in.  The guys tackled the calf, and then I went in to help hold one of the front legs.  Kent laid out the knife and the iodine.  Then he reached down and pulled up her top hind leg and we all gasped.  It wasn't a bull calf at all.  We have a cute little heifer.  And, we have another story in the annals of Fernnook Farm.

On the way to the hay rack tonight a funny thing happened.  Well, actually it happened after visiting the hay rack, but, the point is, it happened.  Kent left for a meeting after dinner, and just as he was going out the door, he turned and said, "I need someone to give hay to the cows."  Well, it just so happens that that particular "someone" is me.  So, I went out to give hay to the cows.  It is really muddy right now.  We have had a lot of rain and snow and freezing and thawing going on around here, and that makes for major mud issues...especially in barnyards.

Today is Tuesday.  Tuesday means a lot of folk come over to our house for dinner, and today's meal had most of the usual crowd attending.  So there were hundreds of kids and dozens of adults both in the house and running around in the yard when I went to the hay rack.  I pulled on my trusty boots, not the ones in the picture above, those were from years gone by, but my nice muck-type boots, and headed out with hopes that I wouldn't get stuck in the mud.  And, I didn't get stuck, but something funny did happen.  It happened because I am so short and the mud is so deep.  I got the hay out of the barn, walked fairly well toward the rack, and then just as I reached it, I sunk in deep.  The top of the rack was over my head, so I had to push and shove and heave to get the hay up and in.  In the process, a load of hay went down my front on both the outside and inside of my shirt.  It was in all the wrong places and immediately began to itch like mad.

I had to go back into the barn to turn off the light, and before turning it out, I had the brilliant idea to take off the offending clothing items and pick out the hay.  Immediate relief!  However, as I was standing there with my top half in the buff, I heard distinct squelching noises come from right outside the barn.  Panic ensued!  I yelled, "Don't come in yet!" and I began to get unbuffed as quickly as possible.  It may have taken me 30 seconds or more to realize that the squelching I was hearing was the poor cows navigating through the deep mud to get to the rack.  What a relief!  My hide was saved, and I can give hay in the future with the knowledge that no one is the wiser to what an old woman looks like who is trying to unhay herself in the barn on a muddy day.  

It continues.

Last week, Kent and I were returning home from pickleball and just as we
topped the small hill on the gravel that headed toward our mailbox, we saw
two teenager skunks.  They were traipsing ahead of us down the middle
of the road.  Their tails were high and fluffy and in their delicate little steps
they reminded me of two women with parasols mincing down the road to
get the attention of the male sex.

They are quite fetching really.  Too bad they are such a nuisance!

They sort of wandered from side to side and then took a sharp left into our yard.
When we got to the top of the driveway they were headed toward our shed.

I wonder...how many baby skunks an be born to one mama every year?

Season Mash Up

A few weeks ago Andrew was at Children's Hospital and the other
kids stayed with us.  The morning were a leeetle bit cool, not much,
but enough for the kids to rummage through my coat closet for scarves,
gloves, and hats.  But, underneath all of those cold weather paraphernalia,
they had on shorts and short sleeve shirts.  It got me to thinking about
seasonal mashups.

Of course, when the cold air moves in to where it is warm, or, when warm
air moves into where it is cold, it creates unsettledness in the atmosphere,
and storms and wild weather can be the result of the warm/cool mashup.

But there are plenty of other mashups as well.  For instance, baseball and
football.  Sometimes my poor dad and uncle are all nervousy just thinking
about which they should watch this time of year...football or baseball.  That
is especially true if the baseball Cardinals are in the playoffs as they are
this year.

But nature has its own mashups.  On the same day in early fall I can see
a late summer hummingbird at my feeder and an autumn glow-worm.  The last
hummer I saw this year was October 6th and just about that same time my
spider lilies popped up.  The lilies are a sure sign that it is autumn.  They are
like fall surprise lilies, because they do not even show their stems until
October and then they just shoot up, almost overnight and quickly blossom.

I love that summer has a toe hold yet and brings warm afternoons to top
off a chilly morning.  This is a mashup that could last for weeks, and I
would not complain.

Skunk Saga part 5

The following tidbits from recent emails will give you a picture of what
is continuing on a daily basis here.

Sept. 24, from Uncle Jim to me:

Ah, the big boy made a return last night. He hung around long enough for me to slip a pellet into the gun and ease the door open. Then realizing that I had a bead on him he made a high dive for the darkness but for an unknown reason he stopped and stated drinking from the Kitties water bowl. Which afforded me the perfect opportunity to blast him in the head, BUT alas I missed the head and hit the water bowl and he was gone until the next meeting.

Skunk 1 Me 0

Sept. 24, later in the day, from me to Uncle Jim:

Kent missed one last night too!  He was wandering around the carport but Kent was holding both a flashlight and the gun.  Missed completely!  The saga never ends.  I will have to update the Skunk Summer Wedding when I get a chance.  But we did get one the other day that was living under the playhouse.  I poked him with a long stick and Kent was waiting on the other side.

Oct. 2, from me to Uncle Jim:

Hey, Uncliest Jimbo,

I heard you got the big guy.  Joel got a momma and two tweeners last weekend.  We

saw another of the tweeners the other night, but he was gone before Kent could

grab the gun.

The contest continues.  

Oct. 2, later in the day, from Uncle Jim to me:

Mr. Skunk met his end when he turned his back and started to get under my car so 

that's where I shot him in the rear end. I didn't know that he died till your Pa saw him 

under the car. Surely we must be making a dent in the skunk population but then if they breed 

like cats they may get the upper hand. Maybe they will hibernate when the cool air comes in

tomorrow night. We can hope.

Your Uncliest Jimmy

From me to the blog audience:

I will keep you posted.

Skunk Summer Wedding Part 4

Unbelievable!  (First a suggestion...you really should read the previous
three posts before tackling this one.)

...but really, it is unbelievable!

Tonight, Aunt Jenny popped over to peruse the Mayberry Times Newpaper
to see who had been arrested and for what reason.  We chatted a bit, and
when she was ready to leave, I grabbed a flashlight to help her down the
steps.  Our outside light never works, so we have given up on trying to
make it do so.

We stepped out to the porch, and dog-gone it, I could tell that SOMETHING
had been on the porch because Debut's water dish had been sloshed and the
food dish was empty.  I forgot AGAIN to bring it in before dark.

Then when we got to the edge of the porch, we could see who the culprit was.
Just as I suspected, it was a skunk.  But not just one.  It was a whole writhing
mass of skunks.  Maybe 68 or 69.  It looked like that many, but was probably
6 or 7 in reality.  There was one big one and scads of little ones all moving
around.  I could not believe it.  I JUST COULD NOT.

We have been invaded.  Absolutely invaded.  Now what are we going to do?
In Baby Blues (the comic strip) the mom called a realtor and listed her house
because there was a snake in the garage.

I am contemplating a move to Canada or Thailand or somewhere...anywhere...
that skunks do not live.

Skunk Summer Wedding Part 2

As our Fernnook community skunks made more and more appearances,
I began to hear a number of skunk stories from other folks.

Cousin Sandy came to visit one Sunday afternoon at Papa's house.  As
we sat chatting on the deck, she heard about our new residents and she
told us about a time that she and Grandma Opal were driving home from
town.  A skunk was in the road and Sandy hit him straight on.  Grandma
said, "Why'd you do that, Sandy?  Poor skunk, why did you aim right
at him?"  Sandy said, "It was either that or hit the car coming the other
way."  Sandy said that from that day on, Grandma talked about that skunk
that Sandy so mercilessly hit head on.  And every time she did, Sandy would
say, "What did you want me to do?  Hit the car?"

Brother Mike remembers a time when he was a cowpoke in Colorado on a
big cattle ranch.  He was just a highschooler or young college student at
the time.  There were two bunk houses and since Mike and the other young
guys got there first, they chose the better of the two houses and moved in.
When the older cowhands arrived, they kicked the young bucks out and
made them move to the older and less nice bunkhouse.

The first week went by and everyone got paid.  On Saturday, the older guys
all took their earnings and went to have a high time in town.  The young fellas
were stuck on the ranch.  Sometime during that day or early evening, a skunk
appeared and wandered under the nice bunk house.  The young men were
quick to take advantage of the situation and they shot that skunk and killed
it.  It began to stink like crazy in the nice new bunkhouse.  When the cowboys
returned from town they were pretty soused and went to bed and didn't
realize until morning that there was a terrible stench under them.  But, when
they sobered up the next day, they marched over to the old bunkhouse and tried
to make the young cowhands move again.  This time though, the ranch head
put his foot down and said, "No, you chose that bunkhouse...you stay in it."
Those cowboys never did find out how that skunk died under that bunkhouse.

Uncle Jim told me about a time he was sitting outside with Grandma when a
skunk put in its appearance near her garden.  Jim decided to get rid of it, but
when he shot it, it headed straight under Grandma's house.  It was not a nice
place to be for quite sometime after that.

A few nights ago, my skunk showed up on the front porch again.  Then after
awhile, I heard a noise on the back patio.  He/she was playing with two
whiffle ball bats that the kids left out.  The skunk would bat them around, then
chase them, leap on them, and chew their ends.  All the while, our own mighty
hunter, Debut the Cat, just sat and watched.  She has been carelessly watching
this skunk all summer now.  A day or so later, Kathleen and Colyn saw the skunk
cross the road in front of them as they biked down the gravel road to my house
for dinner.

I even dreamed about the skunk a night or so ago.  And then yesterday, Natalie
said, with that amused voice that she has so often, "I think your skunk has
moved down here."  I am rather of the idea that our skunks are very prolific
parents and they are multiplying by the gaboozle and this is their very own
personal skunk, not mine.  I guess I will see soon though, because Joel took
care of their skunk.  However, it ran from the field into the yard, and left a
streaming aroma as it did so.  She said, the yard smells awful and it is seeping
into the house.

So, the skunks have defined our summer.  Hattie's wedding has also defined our
summer.  The whole focus of our time and energy went towards planning,
thinking, talking, and working through wedding plans.  Well, that and the family
reunion that surrounded the wedding.

Hattie and Ethan made a lovely couple on their special day.  The wedding itself
was delightful.  They are adjusting happily to married life.  The family reunion
was chock full of food, fun, play, water, and silliness.  It was a fantastic
Skunk Summer Wedding.

Skunk Summer Wedding Part 1

It all began at Uncle Jim's house.  One night, sometime in late spring or
early summer, Kent and I were visiting with Uncle Jim.  He was prattling
on about this and that and then told us that he had been having a new visitor
to his porch recently.

He still had his normal round of visiting possums and coons, but this gal
was a little different.  She was black and white and could raise quite a stink
should she be so inclined.  He told us that she was a bold little thing and
that he could rattle the door and she would not even lift her delicate little
head, but would just keep munching until all the cat food was gone.

After a bit, we stood up to go, and when we got to the door, there she was,
bold as brass, eating away.  Sure enough, Uncle Jim banged and clanged
the door, but she didn't even look up.

Shortly after that, Bill and Stacey caught a picture of a skunk wandering
around outside their door after dark.  Now, Uncle Jim swears that it was
at Bill's property (then owned by someone else) where the neighborhood
skunks originated.  He says it happened a few years back. He says he
noticed a skunky smell there in years gone by.   I don't know, but that's
what he says.

Then, dad called me one morning, and, in a voice that just shimmered with
laughter said, "Laurie, I caught a skunk last night in my coon trap, and I
don't know what to do with it."  We both had some silly ideas like to try
to hook the cage with a cast of a fishing pole and pull it way down in the
woods with the Mule...but really, we were stymied.  Dad called Conservation
Agent Grandson, but couldn't get in touch with him, so we were in a bit of a
stinking mess.

So, we did what any rugged homesteader would do, we each looked on the
internet and we both found the same solution.  And, amazingly it worked.
Just picture, if you can, Papa slowly approaching the cage with a blanket held
up blocking the skunk's view of him.  Oh, and just hear him singing a little
song.  Because that is what he did.  Because that is what the internet said to
do.  Later, I asked him, "What song did you sing?"  "Oh," he replied, "I just
made up a nice little song about the skunk and me."  He must have liked it,
because dad was able to walk up to him and throw the blanket over the cage.

Then he sneakily opened the door of the cage, but the skunk just stayed in it, so
dad was still in a bit of a quandary.  After mulling things over a bit, he figured the
skunk must be thirsty, so he sprayed some water in front of the cage and, shore
'nuff, out came the skunk and waddled away.

But not too far away, as further events will show.

Meanwhile at my own little farmhouse at Fernnook Farm, our very own skunk
made an appearance.  I would come up to the front porch at night, and there
he would be, chowing down on cat food.  Said cat food disappeared from the
front porch after that.  Then we would get a glimpse of him in the evening in
the tall grass at the end of the yard, and we would see him foraging in the grass
right in front of our deck of a morning...I got some pictures of him there, but
they are not good, which is why I borrowed the picture from MDC at the top
of this post.

One night, I was feeling all at odds with myself and life and I went to sit
outside in one of the lawn chairs that are lined up at the edge of our carport.  It
was near the Fourth of July because I could hear the city shooting off their
fireworks.  Who should appear on my little strip of concrete patio but my
own local skunk.  He ambled toward me, I put my feet up in my chair, and
he went under my chair.  Then he stood on his hind legs and put his front
paws on the chair that was just next to me and sniffed around it.  Then he
finally ambled off and I hightailed it to the porch.

Another night, I ran into my little black and white buddy by the back door,
so I scrambled back to the front and up on the porch, only to find the door
locked.  I banged pretty long and hard before Kent came to let me in.

I am not the only one with close encounters of the night-skunk kind.  Anne
(my Montana niece) was sitting on Papa's porch during our family reunion
when she received an unwelcome and surprise visit from his skunk.  I told
you it hadn't wandered too far away.  She jumped up and ran to the front door,
it was locked.  Then she ran to the big garage door.  It was closed and she didn't
know the code.  Then she ran to the side garage door, and it too was locked.
And everywhere she ran, sensor lights kept turning on, so she was crying and
panicking, and she just knew she would get sprayed,...but she didn't.

Jim did get a spray around his house though.  And, he had baby skunks that
were born and being bred right under his shed which is right by his house.

That is not the end of the Skunk Summer Wedding, but this post is long enough.
The rest will have to follow in due course

It was 7 am this morning, I was still in my jammies and the phone rang. 

Laurie, "Hello, neighbor, how are you?"

Neighbor, "Well, I am doing better than you are this morning, because I have
cows today and you don't."

I was a wee bit slow, but then, bingo I got it.  Our cows were at their house.

Kent took off at a quick walk.  I, meanwhile, had to dress first.  One may
chase cows in their jammies in the privacy of their backyard, but not in the
public arena of their neighbor's backyard.

By the time I was dressed and had fast-walked down the road and down the lane,
both Kent and the cows were gone.  In my defense, I have very short legs.  I have
to...they match my short body.

So, I turned around and fast-walked back to the house.  Kent and the cows were
already there, having taken a path through the neighbor's property to the gravel.

It really went fairly smoothly.  The little calf that we were afraid was still missing
was still in her original field.  So we soon had everyone lined up and back in place.

The problem is that it is so dry, there is no grass left for the cows to eat in the fields.

They were just trying to see if the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.

Can you  blame them?

Tyler put some oranges out on the hummingbird feeders and we have
been enjoying a host of Northern Orioles.

They really, really like orange slices.

The other day, I was watching Kathleen and Judah.  After they had been with
me for several hours, I changed Judah's diaper.  When I picked up the old
diaper, to throw it out, I found that it was the new one, and the old one was
back on the baby.

So, I took the old one off and put the new one on again.  But then I couldn't
close it up because I had it on backwards.  Sigh.  Four kids, 8 grandbabies,
2 on the way, and I couldn't get a clean diaper on that poor child.  Kathleen said
something along the lines of, "Grandma, I think you need a brain switch."

But, on a brighter note, she was my sous chef for the day.  She did a fine job,
though she didn't really like the feel of the hamburger when we were patting
out the patties.

We took the bull to the butcher.  He has foot problems, and we always have
a problem keeping young heifers away from the bull.  We have a pretty little
heifer that we want to keep, so it seemed like a good time to turn Mr. Bull
into hamburger.

Our hummingbirds are humming along.  I have four feeders and a dozen or
so birds are busily zipping between them.  A few days ago, I spooked an
oriole on one of the feeders.  He quickly flew off and didn't return.  Then
today I received a text from Natalie saying that she had indigo buntings,
orioles, and cardinals on her feeders (some of the birds were on her
seed feeders, but the orioles were on the hummingbird feeders.)  It wasn't
but a couple of minutes and two orioles appeared on our living room feeder.
Their bright orange is astonishing to see up close.  We tried to not make any
sudden moves.  Tyler captured this picture, but the shadows make the stunning
color hard to see.

Adeline Shirley (and her parents) made her first visit to the Farmhouse at
Fernnook today.  We had a lovely time holding and loving on her.  Tyler
planted more of his garden (he has promised me lots of okra this year)
and Jennifer visited inside with us.

I was explaining to Kathleen yesterday that Tyler & Jenn are planning on
moving to behind the old barn someday, and that she could then walk
through two fields and over a (not-yet-built) stile and could then take the
lane back to their house and visit her cousins.

She answered me back, "Wait a minute!  You mean Tyler and Jennifer used
to live in the brown house, and now they live in another house, and then
they are going to move again?  WHY DO THEY KEEP MOVING?"

She just couldn't fathom that.  But I think I explained it adequately to her.

June bugs were hitting the windows tonight.  Whippoorwills are whippering.
The moon is shining brightly.  Lovely, lovely May.

Years ago we did a skit for the youth at church.  In it, a person crawled on their
belly slowly and painfully across a wide space.  They were supposedly stranded
in a desert and every so often would just whisper the word, "Water!"   Finally
they made it to the cup of water that was their goal.  When they got there, they
signed deeply and then reached into their pocked and pulled out a comb.  They
stuck the comb in the cup of water and began combing down their hair.  This
caused a gasp of surprise from the audience.

Water is so precious and so necessary to us, yet we take it for granted until it goes
missing.

Wednesday night our water went missing.  It was running at 3:30, then Kent, Tyler,
and I went out into the deer woods.  When we returned at 5:30 or so, there was not
water.  Then we went to eat at Joel and Natalie's home.  When we returned at 7:30,
the water was running again.  Yeah!

But, before we went to bed, it quit running again and it stayed that way this time.
It is never convenient when these hassles happen, but it was especially not convenient
at this time.  We were expecting company over the weekend, and I had to do tons of
cooking for the SGRC Thanksgiving Dinner.  Plus we have a bull that is limping and
we needed to tend to him....and a calf that needs a nose ring put in.  There really
wasn't time to go finding the missing water.

But, water is so necessary that we had to find it.  So, we called Papa and he came over
and we put our heads together and had a joint hope that it wasn't the pump.  I am
glad to say that it was not the pump, but instead was a small pipe leading to the
pressure switch that had gotten filled with gunk.  Papa and Beth went and picked
up the parts we needed from town, and Kent scrunched into the well house and fixed
it.  What joy, what felicity it was when the water again gushed from the faucets and
we could flush the toilets!

As for the bull, we gave him the shots he needs, but were unable to pull up the foot
to examine it.  The calf is still ringless. 

The next day Kent said, "I am sore from the bull."  I replied, "I think you are sore from
scrunching in the well house."  After a pause Kent said, "Scrunching is really hard for
me."

Oh, and no, we didn't bring home any deer from the deer woods.  But, the season still
has several more days before it ends, so there is yet hope....and there is water!

This is the reason that the blog has been on hold for a few weeks.

We had to get this nose ring out and this is a crazy cow.   He would
not be caught by any of our usual methods.

So, all of our time and energy has gone into building this....we had to
catch that cow, even if it meant spending a month building a pen and
loading ramp.

So that we could get the cow penned up and remove the nose ring.

Happy to report that it worked.  We built the pen and loading chute that
we should have built 20 years ago.

Well, Kent and Tyler built it, with help from Joel when he could make
time.

I did some major sweating over the design though, and helped a bit
here and there.  Oh, and Papa sawed some of the lumber for us.

Last year's October was a halcyon period for Kent and me.  This October
was tedious.  Now to enjoy November.

Do Whippoorwills, the ones which are whipporrwilling at 5 AM,
ever stop to breathe? Kent, Billy, Tyler, and I would like
to know.

Life in Fern Nook is busy. The hummers help to keep it so.
First there was one; he sat on the Mock Orange bush and
looked in the kitchen window waiting to be noticed so we
would drag a feeder out of the shed and fill it. In a day
or two the one turned into three. Then the group grew to
five; and they have now become seven. There will be more.
It takes awhile for them to all make the long journey.

The little guys are extremely entertaining. Of course the
bullies keep the show at top billing. Even when there were
just three, a bully rose to the top. Because of that, we
hiked out to the shed to pull out, dust off, and fill feeder
number two. That helped for a day or two. But with the
increase in numbers comes an increase in bullies.

We now have what I affectionately have named The Bully and
The Bully Indeed. The Bully guards the feeder on the left
(as you look out the door to the porch). He will keep five
other birds from eating. As any approach he will buzz at
them and shoo them away. Why all five can't gang up on him
at one time is beyond me. But he is just The Bully because
every so often he lets down his guard and you will see the
five able to swoop in for a little sugar water.

The Bully Indeed weaves quite another little drama. He acts
nonchalant, but beware, his guard is never down. Usually he
sits on the drain pipe. Sometimes he perches on the vine that
covers our bell. Occasionally he will even fly into the
Tulip Poplar that is 30 or 40 feet away. But he never rests.
His back might be turned to his feeder, but nothing escapes
his notice. At the slightest whim of interest from another
bird he is on the attack. No bird, ever, gets to feed from
him feeder but himself.

Sometimes I think I should go knock him over the head to
let the others have their share. I guess it would be nice
and sweet if they all got along; but it wouldn't be nearly
so entertaining, and it wouldn't be nearly so hummingbirdish.

Max is on duty these days. He will not leave the baby geese
and duck when they are in sight. His inbred herd instincts
keep them from wandering out of range.

It is loud on the farm these days. When we lay our heads
on our sweet pillows at night there are crickets, bullfrogs
(which are just now starting up, but haven't yet reached levels
that drive Uncle Jim bonkers), whippoorwills, distant dogs,
and coyotes. When I get up and sit on the couch with the
window open behind me waiting for the coffee to brew there
are dozens of birds calling, twittering, and tweeting. There
is also the loud buzz of the hummers as they zip around. Added
to that is the crowing of Joel's rooster, which we can hear even
though it is a field away.

I know these are sounds that can drive a person from the city
to distraction...but they are life and breath to us. They are
part of God's common grace to mankind and we love it. Add to
that sauteed zucchini, mushrooms, and onion, and once again we
say, copying the old puritan, "All this and heaven too!"
Amazing.

My family know me. They know me well. Last night Joel left to
go home. As soon as the door closed though, he opened it and
said, "Mom, come here or you might miss it."

I stepped out and he said, "Listen, there's a peeper."

I hugged him, and kissed him, and just about squeezed his head off.

Peepers. Ah, the relief. The delight. The lying awake and just
listening.

True, there was only one, and later, when I went out before I slipped
between the sheets for the night, there was still only one, or maybe
two at the most...but still. Peepers.

Recently Overheard Conversation at Fernnook Farm.

Man: I really miss that fresh milk we used to have.

Woman: Oh, man! What about the butter, and the cream for
our coffee? I dream about those things.

Man: We could get another milk cow.

Woman: We could.

Man: You feel like milking her?

Woman: Nope. You?

Man: Nope. But I sure do miss that milk.

I walked down to visit G'ma Opal a few days ago. She was
up on a stool fooling with one of her shades. We worked
and took both shades off and fixed the strings for them and
then washed them.

While we were working we started talking about milking cows.
G'ma started milking when she was six years old. Her folks
bought her a little shiny milk bucket that was wider at the
top than it was at the bottom. She told me some stories about
her milking days and then the conversation took this turn.
(This is a paraphrase, my memory these days is slippy.)

G'ma: I miss the milk, but I do not miss milking.

Laurie: Boy, can I relate to that.

G'ma: The horseflies were the worst.

Laurie: There are about one or two days a year when milking
is lovely, romantic, a fun thing to do. The rest of
the time....

G'ma: Yes! When it is dry out and pleasantly warm.

Laurie: Every once in a while you would be sitting there by the
cow, on the stool, and the sunlight would filter in just
right through the slats in the barn. There would be dust
dancing in the rays of light. The cow would be relatively
clean and quiet and you could rest your head on her side
and milk. Of course, it would be 72 degrees out. Just
lovely.

G'ma: Usually though you'd be dripping sweat and she would dip her
tail in the bucket and then slap you with it.

Laurie: Or your hands would be red and chapped and there would be
mud (and worse) caked all over the cow that you just couldn't
get off.

G'ma: I sure do miss that milk though.

Laurie: Sure do!

A Series of Unfortunate Events:

Yesterday morning was smashing. Probably it was the loveliest
morning we've had yet this year. I know because I spent most
of the morning outside. It was all a result of a series of
unfortunate events.

Tyler came in from the Turkey woods at about 7:30 and told
me that Katie, the horse down the road was in our garden
area and couldn't get out. She had jumped the fence to get
in, but now was running in circles looking for a way out.
Kent told him to catch her (she's quite tame) and take her
into the big field, through a gate and then out onto the
road through another, so that she could be walked home.

I went out to help, but I misunderstood which gate he was
bringing her through. I went to the yard gate. Since I
wasn't there Tyler had to let go of her to open the road
gate. She wandered away and found the cows and then she
went loco and started chasing them. She was having a great
time, but they were frightened.

I ran to the house to get some apples to help in catching
her again and while I was inside the phone rang. It was
cousin Mary. She lives behind us. She said, "Blue says
he saw a cow go racing by the house a full speed a minute
ago."

Oh boy. Now a cow was loose. By this time Tyler had caught
Katie and was walking her down the road. Kent, Hattie and
I went cow looking. Not just one, but all the cows except
for the calf were gone. We found two behind the small field
and they were easy to get back in, but the the calf's mamma
was missing.

We tracked her for quite a ways, she was headed towards the
Greenwood's place, traveling back behind the Crow's fence.
Our neighbors came out to help and between everyone we were
finally able to round her up and get her home. Meanwhile
her calf had gone into a depression. The mamma cow was cut
in several places. She was the one who had burst, in her fear,
through the barbed wire fence, but her calf was cut and
bleeding on the nose. I guess between fear of being chased,
and the pain from the cut, and missing her mother, she had lain
down and wouldn't get up. But once she was reunited with
mom she perked up and was fine.

So it was an exciting morning for us and for several of the
neighbors. Just another in a string of adventures here on
Fernnook Farm.