Poultry in Motion

Chickens think there is no better way to spend a nice afternoon than group dusting in the compost pile. They all take their positions and hollow out a nice little dusting hole.

 

"Let's Get Ready to DUST!!"

 

Midge demonstrates the right side, hidden legs, eyes closed position.

 

Speckles is in the full wing spread, breast position.

 

Whitey is in the right side, butt presentation, leg stretch and head hidden, a difficult position to pull off.

 

 

Midge and Speckles are attempting synchronized dusting and failing miserably, they need to keep time to the music in their heads. 

 

 

 

"Do you mind, I'll dust when I feel like it."

 

She has a bit of an attitude.

 

 

Midge finishes with the side position, throwing dirt on your neighbor while trying to look innocent.

 

 

And you think chickens have no sense of humor.

 

 

When your dog has more medications than your husband

There is an email that floats around every so often, I'm sure you have all seen it. It has to do with getting older and caring for things more, one of the lines is 'an old dog with bad hips.' Well, we have an old dog with a bad heart, something her cousin, 14 year old Buster, succumbed to a month ago, shortly after we were at their house for the Viking Cousin weekend.

Sadie is 12 1/2, an old age for a big dog. She is half collie, half german shepherd and we got her when she was about 4 months old. She drove Buddy Collie crazy, the old dog, by worrying his back leg all the time, especially when he was running. There he'd be, on three legs, Sadie carrying a back leg. I don't know how he stood it. But we didn't have a problem with her chewing up things, she chewed on Buddy all the time.

Sadie did have her heroic moment when she let us know Buddy fell in a well pit in the middle of the winter! Buddy, who was pretty arthritic at the time, was never the same after that.

Buddy, a.k.a. chicken killer, Collie, had a reputation so I wanted Sadie to learn right off the bat that the chickens were our friends. Her job was to carry the egg basket and she took it to heart.

 

When our niece, Kaiza, was here one day, she took the basket out of the house and headed for the chicken coop. Sadie came along side her and took the basket right out of her hand.

 

"That's MY job!"

 

Mollie doesn't know that the gator was Sadie's first.

 

 

Just as Buddy Collie had to put up with a pesky Sadie, she had to put up with Mollie when she was a baby, but she took it all in good humor.

 

 

 

Sadie was very good with Bonnie and Clyde.

 

 

For the last month, Sadie has not been feeling well, it started with an annoying cough that was diagnosed as Kennel Cough. Even though she has not been near a kennel or strange dogs here. After a month of antibiotics, she was no better. I could tell this weekend, she was getting worse.

 

 

I know she wasn't eating much, coughing and clearing her throat and panting excessively, even though it's quite cold. Monday morning I got an appointment for later in the day. What worried me most, and Bruce agreed, she was acting like Buster when we were at Tom and Carol's.

 

When Steve weighed Sadie, we could see she had lost 15# since we were there in June and 10 of it since I had her there in Sept. He was very concerned about her panting and thought it was heart related. The ultrasound machine was out on a job but when it was back in the office they would do an ultrasound and take some x-rays of her heart. Steve said he'd call when they were done and I could bring her home.

 

It is just as they thought, she has a big, flabby heart with something else in the lymph nodes above it that wasn't very clear. She also has an abscessed tooth in the back, one of her grinders and that was adding a lot of discomfort for her.

 

So Sadie came home with 3 new medications to add to the 2 she takes now. Bruce takes 4.

 

 

She also came home with a case of canned prescription food to stimulate her appetite and it's doing the job. I made little meatballs with the pills inside and give the rest of the can mixed in her dry food soaked to soften it. She loves it.

 

It's amazing what a difference a day makes, Sadie has a comfy bed in the garage and she is really sleeping well, no more heavy breathing. I don't think she was sleeping very well either and now she is catching up. Sadie had 3 meals today and even wagged her tail, she hasn't done that in quite some time.

 

I'm not kidding myself, she is still 12 1/2 and on heart medicine, but we do what we can for our faithful companions to give them the best life we can.

 

I don't think I'll be taking any vacations soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bonnie and Clyde, part 2

When I ended part 1, Bonnie and Clyde, the two neglected kittens I raised on a bottle were still very small. Bonnie was the healthy one, full of the dickens while Clyde was frail and struggling with a broken leg in a splint. At one vet appointment, we discovered both kittens had lice, Steve gave me a bottle of shampoo and said to give them a bath according to directions once a week for three weeks. I asked if it was safe and he said it was the safest thing they had.

The first week went well for both kittens, I had to lather them up and wait 10 minutes before rinsing. Bonnie let me know in no uncertain terms that she was NOT HAPPY with it but I was bigger than her. Clyde accepted the bath stoically, after all he had been through in his young life, a bath was no big deal.

The next week was totally different, Bonnie again protested but was bathed and dried. About an hour after Clyde was back in his tub, I noticed he was very quiet and got worse as night descended. Finally I called and talked to another vet. I explained what was happening and he said to bathe Clyde very well and keep him warm.

By morning Clyde had palsy so bad, he couldn't eat on his own and I had to go back to the bottle. When I looked at the warning label on the shampoo, I saw it was not meant for such small kittens, you would think the vet would check that, huh? Clyde pulled out of this last set back but he was never completely cured, he ended up with a bad case of the shakes and poor coordination, making it difficult to eat and drink.

But don't feel sorry for Clyde, I always said he's like a little handicapped child, he doesn't know he's handicapped and is a happy boy.

Bonnie stole the heart of our friend, Sam, and when she was litter trained, she went to Whiting to live at their house. I have to admit I did have reservations because the older Bonnie got, the more rambunctious she grew. I know Sam wanted a cat to sit on her lap and wasn't sure Bonnie would be a good fit. I also knew I couldn't find a better home for Bonnie so brushed my doubts aside.

This is the last picture of Bonnie before she left.

 

 

Since Clyde was our special needs cat, he went with us to the cabin that summer and to Carol and Tom's for the annual Viking weekend. He traveled well in the backseat of the pickup, lounging in his carrier until he was hot, then he'd start chirping.

 

"Bruce, turn up the air conditioning, Clyde's hot."

 

Once he was comfortable again, all was well.

 

 Clyde made himself right at home at Carol and Tom's and loved the accommodations in the guest room.

 

 

Buster wasn't quite sure he liked a cat invading his house and hung tight in his chair.

 

"I'm not leaving this chair till that little creep goes home!"

 

 

Having a cat with special needs is a learning experience, with his neurological problems, everything is exaggerated. When Clyde jumps on the couch or chair, he just lets loose and flies, not knowing where or how he will land. If Bruce or I happen to be sitting on that couch or chair, it can be dangerous. I walked around with a slash on my chin for a few weeks from an errant claw scrabbling for a landing spot.

 

Clyde really hates loud noises, when I'm baking and pulling pans out of cupboards, he makes a wide berth around me and leaves the kitchen, I usually find him upstairs in the tower.

 

 

And forget about the vacuum cleaner, that is an instrument of the devil according to Clyde!

 

He will go outside - IF - it's not too hot, too cold, too windy, too rainy, well, not at all rainy. One morning I made him go out with me before it got hot, I felt he needed to get out of the house. I was working away when I felt Clyde bumping my leg with his head. I looked down, he looked up, "NYETT, NYETT!" his mouth open panting, I understood perfectly! We went to the house.

 

 

 When he runs, he's all over the place, his backend nearly over taking his front end!

 

Clyde loves a soft bed on which to lounge and Bruce often finds him stretched out in the daybed where he takes a nap after dinner everyday.

 

 

Clyde doesn't like his routine changed and when Zoe came into the household, he packed his bags and moved upstairs, refusing to come down. I had to borrow the neighbor's baby gate, Clyde couldn't get over it, to keep him in the kitchen. Zoe finally won him over, well, who wouldn't love this sweet face, and they are best friends.

 

 

So imagine Clyde's shock and horror when his evil sister, Bonnie, came back to the farm to live. Yes, she wore out her welcome at Whiting, terrorizing their gentle dog, Katie and bullying the other cat. Not to mention what happened when daughter Brittany came home with her two Siamese, Aermenta and Genobia. (But with names like that, they should have been tougher!)

 

I had been telling Sam for 2 years that Bonnie could come back and finally things came to a head. Bonnie was pretty ticked off by the time they got here, I put the carrier in the laundry room with her in it. Clyde, sensing danger - and he laughs at danger - gingerly got out of his chair, yes, he has his own chair, and shaking all over, his palsy magnified when he's nervous, approached the door of the cat carrier. All of a sudden, a black, furry demon hit the door and we didn't see Clyde the rest of the day.

 

I knew I couldn't let Bonnie loose in the state she was in so left her in the carrier overnight in the garage and turned her loose outside the next day.

 

Didn't see her for a week!

 

Bonnie eventually showed up, but to this day she doesn't have a cat or dog friend, she is just very anti-social. Most of the time she tolerates me but once in awhile she has a weak moment where she will grab me around the neck and love me to death. But when the vet came to vaccinate everyone for rabies, we had to wrap her in a towel to subdue her, I can hardly wait till next year.

 

She looks innocent enough - but she is evil.

 

 

 

The other cats all curl up together in the winter.

 

 

Bonnie would rather die.

 

Bonnie does remember her days as a house cat with some fondness and got in the habit of trying to sneak in the back door when I was going in or out. One day she slipped in and ran to the basement, Clyde saw it happen and stationed himself at the top of the stairs, hurling insults and threats of bodily harm if she dared come back. I went down after Bonnie and was carrying her back up, just as the cats were about nose to nose, Bonnie let loose a very loud, "YEOWWWW!!!" Clyde threw himself backwards, lost his balance and was thrashing around on the ground trying to get traction. I opened the back door and tossed Bonnie out, Zoe came tearing in and ran right over Clyde just as he was getting to his feet. It is a wonder I didn't have to do CPR on him, he must have a strong heart to withstand all that drama and live to tell about it.

 

 Everyone needs a goal in life, Clyde's is to be a seeing eye cat. He practices on us nearly every day, if we head for the back room to go do chores, he right in front of us.

 

"Just follow me and I'll get you there safely."

 

"No, you have to follow me!"

 

"Don't go AHEAD of me, it defeats the purpose!!"

 

"OWWW, don't step on me, I'm just trying to help!!!"

 

If I'm bringing groceries in from the car to the kitchen, there's Clyde, showing me the way.

 

If I'm bringing clothes in off the line to fold on the couch, you guessed it, Clyde is there, IN THE WAY!!

 

This morning Bruce was hauling chemicals out of the garage into the basement for the winter, big, heavy boxes, and Clyde was doing his best seeing eye cat demonstration. He has no idea he is lucky to be alive with those big feet striding inches from his body.

 

So that is the story to this day of Bonnie and Clyde, I'm sure we will have more adventures along the way and I will be here to chronicle them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chip, Brad's Red-Headed Daughter!

Brad and Jennifer are good friends who live south of us, I've known Jennifer since she was 12 years old and we are proud godparents of both their sons. One of Jennifer's many irons in the fire is her Mary Kay business and every year she has an open house. I started making goodies for her ladies, in hopes that they will linger longer and buy more stuff!

Thursday I delivered several trays of baked goods and very decadent turtles starting with homemade caramel, yum! Jennifer was busy doing last minute things and I was dressed in my farm duds so wouldn't fit in with the well dressed crowd that was expected. I was in the car heading out of the drive when Brad pulled in on the 4-wheeler with Chip, who he calls his red-headed daughter.

 

Chip is incorrigible! Brad can't go anywhere without her and he never has a moment of peace.

 

While we were talking, she was all over him, chewing, pulling on his cap, generally making a nuisance of herself.

 

Then she saw me taking pictures.....

 

...and posed. "Oh, I didn't realize you had a camera, how's this?"

 

Brad said if he'd had a daughter, she would be just like Chip, spoiled rotten, wouldn't listen and was a camera hog.

 

But they did a darned good job with the boys.

 

Men and their toys

You all know how much men love their toys, ever since Bruce got his new chainsaw, he lives to cut down a tree. We noticed a BIG, TALL ash tree that was WAY TOO CLOSE to our shed had died. It is on the edge of our grove, leaning a bit to the south east.

Bruce decided to wait for a strong north wind before cutting it so it would fall in a fairly free area.

BUT - Sunday we had a strong south wind and he decided to take advantage of it and drop the tree into the grove. So he fired up his chain saw and notched it on the north side and proceeded to cut across from the notch.

Then the tree settled backwards, the WRONG WAY, and pinned the blade of the saw!! YIKES!!

(All the while I am peeking out the kitchen door every so often to see how he is progressing, I figured it was the safest place to be.)

Bruce tugged, cursed, wiggled, muttered, well, I know I wasn't there but I've been there before, pulled, tugged, wiggled. Stood back and surveyed the situation, went back to trying to get the @#!@$!! saw out of the tree. And sweating just a little bit as the tree swayed back and forth.

FINALLY!! The saw came loose and Bruce stepped out of the line of fire to watch the tree. A big gust of wind made the tree topple toward the grove, "GO TREE GO!!"

Then it swayed back to the SOUTH, "NO TREE NO!!" Creating much angst to the lumber jack, sweating the thought of the tree falling on our nice shed.

This vigil went on for nearly an hour, every now and then Bruce would tippy toe over to the tree and saw on it before retreating. Finally he told me the only thing he could think of, was to cut ANOTHER BIG, TALL  ash tree that was still alive, so it would fall north, hit the other and like a domino, topple it into the grove. I was not in agreement with that scenario at all. I could just see the same thing happening and have TWO BIG, TALL trees swaying back and forth and refusing to fall.

All of a sudden there was a big crash, I looked out to see the tree had twisted, ripped off the trunk and fallen south, right into the other tree that thankfully Bruce didn't turn the saw onto.

 

This is not the classic tree felling operation.

 

There is the shed, thankfully unscathed.

 

The tree holding up the other tree from doing any damage on the ground.

 

Too close, way too close.

 

But all is well, Bruce didn't even have to come in and change clothes, but he did need a long drink of water for his cottonmouth.

We Weren't Ready For THIS!!!!

 

SNOW!! Even my little musical frogs were struck down, I'm sure they were wishing they were back in Mexico where they came from!

 

This is the first snow for the bearded ladies and they didn't know what to think about that cold, white stuff that sticks to their feet. They took refuge under the trellis in a snow-free zone and plotted their day.

 

 

Last week my mare, Lady, injured her hock and her leg blew up and was very painful. Our equine vet, Melissa, sent me to the horse-pital, Carlson Equine Clinic outside Sioux City where she stayed for 6 days. I tried to get Dr. Carlson to let her come home on Monday because we knew rain and snow was predicted for Tuesday but he wouldn't release her quite yet.

 

(I have a theory that he is planning a winter vacation to Aruba.)

 

Tuesday morning the rain was heading out way so I called and said if we could come get her, we needed to be on the road and we were given the all clear.

 

We drove into rain on the way there and by the time we were checked out and loaded, it was raining steadily.  The bill wasn't as much as I paid for her and Bruce got points on his Cabela's card, it was a win/win situation. Halfway home it turned to snow and by the time we reached Marcus it looked like the middle of winter.

 

But we made it home okay and Lady was glad to be back.

 

 

She is confined to a stall for awhile and still on antibiotics, her big bandage can come off in a few days.

 

Chantilly was very happy to have her home.

 

 

Even if they have to converse through a screen, kind of like being in prison.

 

 

 

My bearded ladies

I bought 3 baby chicks this spring when my sister, Rosanne, the enabler, and I stopped by Bomgaars to see her daughter who works there. I didn't have any plans to get more chickens but we had to go back and see all the chicks and I was weak, couldn't resist.

They are Americanas and will lay blue/green eggs, someday, their 5 months are up and no sign yet but I continue to be patient. They have very distinctive features, as in olive green legs and 'muffs' and 'beards'. It's hard to tell when they are tiny but I picked out three that looked the best.

If you look closely, you can see the beginning of a little muff right under her eye.

 

They start out in the house in the 'chick crib' the French family baby bed with a Rubbermaid tub inside.

 

 

"Oh doggie, ya gotta love those chickie crumbles!"

 

 

They grow fast and soon need to be outside because they are stinky in the house. But still too little to be let loose with big dogs and cats around.

 

 

They finally get to run with the rest of the chickens, her muffs are becoming more prominent.

 

 

They practice sitting on the top rung of the chicken house roost, while there are no other chickens in residence.

 

"Some day I'll be on the top row!"

 

Check out those groovy olive green legs on her.

 

They are fully grown with very prominent muffs and beards that they wear proudly. They don't shop for any Nair or No-No, the latest in hair remover.

 

Hers really show up because they are darker than her feathers.

 

 

"You looking at me??"

 

It's hard to get a group picture, if one has her head up, two will have it down. If you frame a picture with all three heads up, by the time it smaps, they could all be turned the other direction.

 

That is why you should count your chickens before they hatch, because after they hatch, they run around so willy-nilly, it's almost impossible to count them.