Well, the Pacific North West is practically tropical ! Sitting here looking out over the ranch with the wind chime playing (?) the wedding march…(now I never have worked out how they came up with that, but that’s what it said on the box), the horses peacefully ( for the most part !) grazing, the sheep synchronized eating team mowing their pasture and the band of five lying under the cedar tree expending as little energy as possible, life is almost perfect.
It is pretty much the “Hudson” team today, Quatre is spending time in Seattle, perfecting her two step and Carla is off to spend a couple of days with her nearest and dearest. My guess is they still wake up with the sun, imagine frogs croaking all night and at 7.30am are up and ready for the barn, wondering why they can’t hear the mournful moo of a hungry Daisy Mae. Meanwhile, Big brother John and his daughter Alyson back from a busy weekend playing tourist and doing some retail therapy are back to reality, the ranch and poo…lots of poo. It can’t be said that John has a great….in fact, he has NO affinity to cleaning stalls but John appears bright and early each morning for role call. Two slices of toast with butter and strawberry jam, a nice hot cup of English tea with milk and despite a curled up nose under his silly hat, big brother John is prepared to wander stall to stall with a steaming wheelbarrow, flakes of hay or a dripping hosepipe. Alyson clearly has a daily battle to prise herself off the mattress and is a self confessed “city girl” but stoically ambles down to the barn with a smile on her face… .no doubt wondering what each day will bring ! Currently Greg and the Hudson team are out in the trees, practicing being lumberjacks for the day, hopefully the freshly baked chocolate cookies will be adequate compensation for hard labour…but maybe not !
The white Cornish Cross chicks (aka the Sumos) are about four weeks old. Soft, squishy and fat. An executive decision was made and it was decided that they had spent enough time squatting between the feeder and the water (they appear to be very conservative on how much energy is expended) and it was high time that our portly little chicks got out to see the big wide world. A sumo roundup isn’t too energetic, the birds just plant themselves indignantly on their corpulent butts and squeak in protest as they are unceremoniously dumped into the dewy grass to learn how to be real chickens.
Chickens appear to have featured over the past couple of days. There would appear to have been a malfunction with one of our laying hens. Carla noticed during our regular evening egg hunt that the “egg end” of Hattie the hen didn’t appear to have returned to whence it came and our poor feathered friend was wearing her inside outside. A prolapsed chicken was a bit of a venture into the unknown, chickens are sadly not inclined to nurture their sick and infirm and Hattie’s prognosis wasn’t good. A couple of hours in the hen sick bay, a quick consult with Google, a foray into the medicine cabinet and doctor Greg and his more than able assistant Carla were back down to the barn armed with a tube of haemorrhoidal cream and basic Google instructions to put Hattie’ s butt back where it belonged. Apparently, said salve was duly applied to startled hen, appropriate pressure was applied to offending and protruding “bits” and Hattie the hen is as good as new. Thanks Google !!!!
Followers of lamb Chop will be happy to know he was quickly released from his solitary confinement…we couldn’t take the constant and very loud vocal bombardment and the poor boy looked so very miserable. Every day Mr. Lamb Chop is treated to a thorough butt wash and a double dose of probiotics before he is released to eat his weight in grass and more of the same. Poor Lamb chop, and he thinks he is special…..he is.
Well, time to go and get my next infusion dose of “ get me well” stuff….it is a nightly procedure and it is all getting a little tedious but if it gets me back in the saddle it will be worth it. Take care, keep safe, M
It is pretty much the “Hudson” team today, Quatre is spending time in Seattle, perfecting her two step and Carla is off to spend a couple of days with her nearest and dearest. My guess is they still wake up with the sun, imagine frogs croaking all night and at 7.30am are up and ready for the barn, wondering why they can’t hear the mournful moo of a hungry Daisy Mae. Meanwhile, Big brother John and his daughter Alyson back from a busy weekend playing tourist and doing some retail therapy are back to reality, the ranch and poo…lots of poo. It can’t be said that John has a great….in fact, he has NO affinity to cleaning stalls but John appears bright and early each morning for role call. Two slices of toast with butter and strawberry jam, a nice hot cup of English tea with milk and despite a curled up nose under his silly hat, big brother John is prepared to wander stall to stall with a steaming wheelbarrow, flakes of hay or a dripping hosepipe. Alyson clearly has a daily battle to prise herself off the mattress and is a self confessed “city girl” but stoically ambles down to the barn with a smile on her face… .no doubt wondering what each day will bring ! Currently Greg and the Hudson team are out in the trees, practicing being lumberjacks for the day, hopefully the freshly baked chocolate cookies will be adequate compensation for hard labour…but maybe not !
The white Cornish Cross chicks (aka the Sumos) are about four weeks old. Soft, squishy and fat. An executive decision was made and it was decided that they had spent enough time squatting between the feeder and the water (they appear to be very conservative on how much energy is expended) and it was high time that our portly little chicks got out to see the big wide world. A sumo roundup isn’t too energetic, the birds just plant themselves indignantly on their corpulent butts and squeak in protest as they are unceremoniously dumped into the dewy grass to learn how to be real chickens.
Chickens appear to have featured over the past couple of days. There would appear to have been a malfunction with one of our laying hens. Carla noticed during our regular evening egg hunt that the “egg end” of Hattie the hen didn’t appear to have returned to whence it came and our poor feathered friend was wearing her inside outside. A prolapsed chicken was a bit of a venture into the unknown, chickens are sadly not inclined to nurture their sick and infirm and Hattie’s prognosis wasn’t good. A couple of hours in the hen sick bay, a quick consult with Google, a foray into the medicine cabinet and doctor Greg and his more than able assistant Carla were back down to the barn armed with a tube of haemorrhoidal cream and basic Google instructions to put Hattie’ s butt back where it belonged. Apparently, said salve was duly applied to startled hen, appropriate pressure was applied to offending and protruding “bits” and Hattie the hen is as good as new. Thanks Google !!!!
Followers of lamb Chop will be happy to know he was quickly released from his solitary confinement…we couldn’t take the constant and very loud vocal bombardment and the poor boy looked so very miserable. Every day Mr. Lamb Chop is treated to a thorough butt wash and a double dose of probiotics before he is released to eat his weight in grass and more of the same. Poor Lamb chop, and he thinks he is special…..he is.
Well, time to go and get my next infusion dose of “ get me well” stuff….it is a nightly procedure and it is all getting a little tedious but if it gets me back in the saddle it will be worth it. Take care, keep safe, M
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