It’s Saturday again and the rain is still with us. The creeks are high, water rushing over the gravel and stones on the creek bed, splashing over broken branches and working it’s way under and around the rotting corpses of fallen trees. The trees, gnarled with age, covered with algae, bright green moss and colonies of orange mushrooms form waterfalls, diversions and bridges over the swollen creeks. The leaves are floating gently in the still air, gold, yellow and red falling from the trees, branches growing increasingly bare and stark against the grey skies. It’s Autumn ….and it’s beautiful.
Nature is preparing the livestock and horses for the oncoming Winter cold. Little Mojo-Anne, only 3 weeks old is growing a thick curly red coat and docile little Misty Moo the Jersey heifer calf is changing colour. Gone is our honey coloured sweetheart, Misty is turning ginger and her coat is becoming shaggy. The strange weather has been very wet but very warm. The horses waterproof rugs remain idle on stall doors and rug stands waiting for the cold wet wind storms that we know are coming but wet horses mean muddy horses. Why is it that Charm NEVER rolls when the grass is dry, the sun is shining and there is no mud holes. Starbuck returns from his pasture head to toe brown, mud covering his sleek, shiny black body and Roman…ah Roman. I swear that horse has an identity crisis, he is black but everyday we have to hose the heavy, sticky mask of mud from his coat. Today, rugs are going ON.
Some local children came by the ranch to visit little MoJo-Anne and just happened to arrive as the calf’s bottle was being prepared in the warm barn kitchen. Clearly, it was difficult to work out who was more excited, young Cole, pretty little Natalie or the little red calf.
Some emergency measures had to be taken in the chicken shack. The forty tiny red and black chicks are no longer tiny. Entering the chicken coop is vaguely reminiscent of Hitchcock’s “The Birds” as the pullets are becoming frustrated with restraint in the chick house. The word “temporary” usually brings me out in a cold sweat, images of baling twine and duck tape give me sleepless nights but yesterday, any measures were more than welcome. Greg and Carla paddled around in the chicken pen, catching chickens reluctant to be evicted from the new chick zone and scrambled back and forth over the new fence divider, risking life, limb (and falling into smelly poo) as they made safe (hopefully) the new pen. Forty eight week old birds are now able to flap their wings and fly, scratch and mud bathe…oh yes and I will no longer have to fight them off when I enter the chick house.
Time to go, I believe it’s still raining, I’m sure it’s even more muddy but the red gold and yellow leaves will still be falling and it will still be beautiful.
Take care, keep safe and dry, M
Nature is preparing the livestock and horses for the oncoming Winter cold. Little Mojo-Anne, only 3 weeks old is growing a thick curly red coat and docile little Misty Moo the Jersey heifer calf is changing colour. Gone is our honey coloured sweetheart, Misty is turning ginger and her coat is becoming shaggy. The strange weather has been very wet but very warm. The horses waterproof rugs remain idle on stall doors and rug stands waiting for the cold wet wind storms that we know are coming but wet horses mean muddy horses. Why is it that Charm NEVER rolls when the grass is dry, the sun is shining and there is no mud holes. Starbuck returns from his pasture head to toe brown, mud covering his sleek, shiny black body and Roman…ah Roman. I swear that horse has an identity crisis, he is black but everyday we have to hose the heavy, sticky mask of mud from his coat. Today, rugs are going ON.
Some local children came by the ranch to visit little MoJo-Anne and just happened to arrive as the calf’s bottle was being prepared in the warm barn kitchen. Clearly, it was difficult to work out who was more excited, young Cole, pretty little Natalie or the little red calf.
Some emergency measures had to be taken in the chicken shack. The forty tiny red and black chicks are no longer tiny. Entering the chicken coop is vaguely reminiscent of Hitchcock’s “The Birds” as the pullets are becoming frustrated with restraint in the chick house. The word “temporary” usually brings me out in a cold sweat, images of baling twine and duck tape give me sleepless nights but yesterday, any measures were more than welcome. Greg and Carla paddled around in the chicken pen, catching chickens reluctant to be evicted from the new chick zone and scrambled back and forth over the new fence divider, risking life, limb (and falling into smelly poo) as they made safe (hopefully) the new pen. Forty eight week old birds are now able to flap their wings and fly, scratch and mud bathe…oh yes and I will no longer have to fight them off when I enter the chick house.
Time to go, I believe it’s still raining, I’m sure it’s even more muddy but the red gold and yellow leaves will still be falling and it will still be beautiful.
Take care, keep safe and dry, M
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