Category Archives: Life: lived

Goldilocks days

These are my favorite days of fall – not too hot, but not too cold.  The bugs are gone and the ticks are long finished.  We’ve been warned, by the frost, that winter is coming, but then there are lovely “gift” days of perfect, peaceful weather.  It feels like it should be time to rest, peruse, hang out in the hammock and enjoy summer taking her last breaths.  But it never is.  September and October are always the worst months of the year for me, and I’m panicking and faltering under the crush of things that have to get done, so that everyone and everything will be ok for the winter.  I’d like to change that.  Possibly if there was only harvest to be done, it might be manageable.

The chickens don’t have that problem.  It’s not as hot as it was in the summer, but they are still flopped out in their dust baths and sunny patches all afternoon.  HW says “there’s chickens strewn about all along the path.”  They aren’t inclined to move, once they get into their dirt bath doze.  Sitting chicken‘s posture seems to be improving, by the way.  She’s in the pile.

They especially love this spot, because I threw a pile of dead branches there, that just happen to have perfect chicken space underneath, so they feel nice and safe.
Even the nervous Blondies are chilling out by the path.
Can’t see us, we’re under branches!
Even the uptight guineas are unusually…flat.

First fire of fall

I probably would have held out longer, living in a sweater, but HW started the first fire of the season.  On the eve of October.  Cozy:)

The last week of September had days as hot as any of the middle of summer, then a powerful rainstorm and the temperatures cut in half for this week, and frost on the way.

These are the phones I’ve had, I’ve had, These are the phones I’ve had.

When my phone slipped out of my hand and the screen shattered (exhibit H, lower right), becoming instantly useless, I scrambled to find an old phone that would work in the meantime.

I went to that box (the “someday, I’m going to be glad I saved that pink flip phone!” box), and found almost all the phones I’ve ever had.

The clutch of old phones got me thinking about electronic waste.

I resentfully entered into cell phone ownership in the late 2000s (pink flip phone), and, like cars, used my phones until they expired (which didn’t bode well for my current project), and with no hunger for cutting edge technology (as might be apparent).

So even with a very non-disposable attitude towards phones, I’ve gone through 11 phones.  Three are not pictured.  There was a silver LG flip phone (best phone ever!) that was impervious to all kinds of abuse, and I passed on to someone else for whom it continued to go and go.  Oh, the days of T9 texting.  The tenth was another LG, the chastity belt phone, that refused to unlock for any coercion and became a camera.  And one got lost in the woods.

I started charging phones.  Two of these don’t take a SIM card, so although they function, they were obsoletized, alas (someday…that pink phone will have its day, again).  Which would be the one that could get me through this pinch?  Maybe a blackberry?  Between the two of them, one complete blackberry is present, but it doesn’t talk to the network.  The iphone was hopeful.  Elegant phone, totally functional but for a broken internal antenna – garbage.  First LG touchscreen – total digital screen failure – kaput.

The Samsung on the end worked like a charm, yay!  The reason it got retired has not yet become apparent.  I’m about to buy phone #12.

I (self-identified resistor of phone consumption) am at an average of a phone every two years, which is about average (my attitude affects nothing).  All those pounds of waste!  Times billions of people, times all the years to come that we will continue to consume cell phones!

I’m also not doing anything useful by keeping my phone collection other than hoarding precious metals in an inaccessible form.  I need to get these recycled.

 

Slipper season!?

Fall is here. It snuck in one week and although the season could be said to change overnight, it was hard to pin it on which night, exactly.

I haven’t built a fire yet, but I usually hold out quite a while before I give in to a fire. No reason, other than my long habit of stretching my cold tolerance. HW is already wearing insulated Carhartt jackets and flannel shirts; I’m still in shorts (with my slippers).

The chickens are no-necking in the mornings, seeming a little grumpy about it. No outright frost yet, though, to reveal all the squashes. Any day.

Pig pranks

I went out to feed the pigs lunch, and it was quiet.

Suspiciously quiet.

They are usually oinking with impatience; they have loudly ticking and highly accurate food clocks. I walked over to shut off the fencer, and I didn’t see pigs anywhere.

Oh no.

I just moved them yesterday, the fence was sound, did they seriously make a jail break? F#$%!

I started walking again and Oink! I heard a little grunt.

I stared into their enclosure. Wait, is that? What? No way! There’s a pig in there?

No, there was two pigs in there. They had burrowed under a pile of branches, and were barely, barely discernible in the pile of brush. Totally concealed.

Any reason for this gilly-suit behaviour? Unknown.

When I started walking away, they came snorting out, shaking off the branches, scampering out oinking joyously. I suspect it was purely a game.  I doubt it was comfortable. I’ve never seen pigs dig their way under a brush pile.  I think I just got pig-pranked.

Let’s see if she can find us here. Bet she can’t! Hold still!  She doesn’t see us! You’d better oink! No, you oink! She’s walking away, doesn’t see us, hahaha! Oink! She still can’t see us and I oinked,  hahaha, she’s looking right at us! Haha, oh, we got you good!

What’s that white pompom doing with those chickens?

You should see the Oreos now.

They still pal around with the Silkie mom who raised them, but they both tower over her. The size differential is quite amusing. 

Even though they´re not full grown, they´re getting quite magnificent.  Slate on black feathers with hints of emerald green, and both of them developed copper in their neck feathers.

They´re supposed to be Ameracuanas, but I think some Copper Maran got in that mix.  Will the eggs be blue or brown?

One looks like a rooster, with a little pink of comb coming in.

Sunbathing and pig lunch

It´s a nice hot day, so the chickens decided to flake out in the path.These are the Famous Five, the house moochers.  They just kind of tip over like beached boats, and stick out a wing.

Even Jean Jacket‘s in there.

Or they´ll find some shade where they can get it.

Even a Brahma is lounging.I wanted to not get these pigs stuck on a 3x/day feeding schedule so it was possible to leave for the day, so they get their piggy rations morning and night, but to tide them over, they also get a 5 gal bucket of apples every day, or whatever fruit/scraps/vegetables (It’s a good time of year to be a pig).

Usually, there are several apples left over come supper time.  If there are no apples, then I know they had a big day, and they’re legitimately hungry for dinner.Today they got turnips and kale too, and happily, they loved the kale, eating it first.  I wasn’t sure after the cucumbers. They stand on it to rip a piece off with their mouths, like they’ve done it before.

These pigs have the craziest eyebrows! They’re wild Grandpa Wizard eyebrows, like visors.

So cute!

 

Movin’ on up, up, up

The guineas are at this age where they just get into trouble all day.

They’re falling in the drink, getting stuck in or under stuff, and practicing perching anywhere they can.  I get called outside frequently by the panicked shrieks of the mortally assailed, and I find chicks…

How did it get in there?  Last year I planted a highbush blueberry and set a cage over it so the chickens didn´t uproot it through their vigourous appreciation of mulch.

I routinely found wailing chicks “trapped” in the chickery until I set it up on its side.  Now it´s a perch.They’ve got that guinea vase shape and they´re starting to turn speckled from striped, but they’re still brown.

Then I was brought outside at dusk by some particularly sustained alarm calling.

To find this:

The chicks were getting up on the greenhouse.  And they were really nervous about it, making  a lot of consternation noises.It started with the grownups.  They started inching up onto the greenhouse from the sky coop while mama was sitting with her brood on the perches.

A couple of days ago, they started roosting on the peak.

Not to be outdone, the chicks just decided that’s the place to sleep now.

First they flap up to the arch from the coop Then they scoot up until they gain the peak

A few of them are content to stay on the coop, which I think is smart, but I’m sure they’ll be leveled up in no time.

I have a theory that this started with the weather vane.  If that bird can get up there, then so can we.

Their additions are not very attractive.  They’re adding a lot of nitrogen now to the water I’m catching off the greenhouse.

No, they don’t puncture the plastic.  It’s tight at night in the cold.  It makes loud rumbling as they all scurry back and forth across it.

What’s funny, is that there’s not much space at the top.  It´s kind of a one way street.  Yet they insist on going back and forth, and when they pass each other….

If anyone gets more than a few inches from the center, they start to slip, then run in place, flapping, and either they regain the summit or abort, and push off to fly to the ground and then begin the quest again.

Eventually they line up like beads for the night.  It looks like an owl buffet to me, but I don’t have any ideas how to stop them.

Oreos and the Cobra mom

The only time to see the wild Oreos up close is evening time in the coop.  They are handsome looking now, and not so much filling as cookie these days – they´re turning out raven black, with the blackest glossy legs.

 

 

 

The guinea hen is definitely setting.

This is early on – is she or isn´t she?

Later on she scraped up all the hay in the coop, and made a lovely, perfectly round nest with high walls.  When she flattens out and dozes, you can barely see comb over the sides of her nest.

No idea how many eggs she´s got.  Easily 20.  Perhaps a chicken egg got in there too.  In fact, she could be due any day.  I don´t know about guinea terms, but she´s got to be close.

And since there´s only three birds walking about yet, I suspect those three are the boys, and the other hen has found her own nest site somewhere in the woods. May she walk out healthy one day with a trail of chicks.

While I´m delighted that she´s pleased enough with the coop I made them to brood in it, there are some things that I did not consider.  Such as, what happens when they hatch?

She hasn´t lifted off that nest for a moment, so I´m thinking as soon as they hatch she´ll be ready for a snack.  And then day old guinea chicks will start pouring out of the coop, six feet off the ground?  If they do bounce, then, how about when mom goes back to bed?  If I lift in the chicks, she´ll come blazing out, the chicks will follow her out…this is a circular vision.

I decided to put a screen door on the coop so I can keep them all in there a couple of days, or something.

Applying the screen door was fine.  When I set a dish of food and water inside the door, however, whoooweee!

She is terrifying!  She opens her mouth like a cobra, spreads her wings wide and full, so she looks like a flat feather wall, and stares.  Then one piercing squawk, and wham! cobra strike.  She gave me a good chomp.  Same when I refilled the water, after she tugged the dishes in close to the circle around her nest.  Then I had to reach in even closer to her.  I didn´t risk the food dish.

Yikes.

And then four hens decided to hang out in the woodshed, even though it wasn´t raining.

The tick horror show

Wood ticks lie in wait everywhere.

On the chickery

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the handles of buckets and baskets

 

 

 

And especially near the garden

 

This picture is worth taking a really long, close look at. How many ticks?
This is a zoom in. Less than 35, you’re not seeing them all

 

This was a bad tick day.  I had ticks all over me all day, and I thought I should have kept count.  I probably had 30 ticks on me today. 

So the next day I did count.  It was not as bad a tick day as the previous day, but I carefully counted all the ticks I pulled off of my clothes and self:

Forty-four (!).

And on my garden gate. I’m going to have to touch that.
This is what happens when I pick up a bucket or basket like that. They swarm enthusiastically up my hand!  Gross.

 

Volunteer Sunflowers

In the vicinity of the bird feeder, there are a couple of sunflowers sprouting!

I wondered.

Out of all the pounds of black oil birdseed, a couple seeds escaped consumption, and found fertile ground.

I wonder if they have a chance to make it to maturity?  I´ve had a hard time growing sunnies on purpose, because they are very tasty when young!  To many consumers.

This one has been sampled:

Pigs

The piglets are settling in, and getting a little friendlier.

They are kind of like dogs in some ways.  They stretch out their back legs behind them when they first get up, wag their tails, enjoy a good sprint, even do some barking, which sounds like whooping cough.

These pigs are so dynamic, I can’t believe the difference from the 2014 pink pigs.  They are not lazy or laidback.  They express themselves with a good back and forth sprint the length of their fence, whenever we come out with their food, or a treat.  They´re deep into rooting already, and don´t sleep in.  They´re up with the chickens.

Plowing with your NOSE. I can´t get over it.
So cute!

AP  (“my pig”) is pushy (the one with a blaze).  AP is bolder.    Spots, or Spotty, has more white on her face – her blaze is patchy.  She also has white lower eyelashes on her right eye.

They have a big splashy go at the dog bowl.

They have a big wrestle over it, but it seems to come out equal, so we haven´t introduced a second bowl yet.

Joinup!  First contact, helped by the prospect of some milk:)

First Real Garden Day

I´m going to be so sore!

We were attacking the garden today, replacing fence posts; the old ones were rotten and broken (“these should last for a year” – three years ago!).  Shaping garden beds out of the remaining areas of our fenced space.  These spots have been covered with waste silage plastic (as seen in background) for a year or more, and the earth is awesomely root-free.

In other words, digging shallow trenches.  Which immediately filled with water.  Digging that is like wet concrete, clumping and dragging on the boots and shovel and resisting being dumped out of the wheelbarrow.  Especially since I´m digging to the clay layer, which will be filled in with wood chips.  Getting that topsoil off to pile on the beds, instead of supporting weeds in the aisles.

This…
…will look like this after an infusion of wood chips

But the bugs aren’t out yet!  So it´s all glorious.  Any day now, the bugs, the peepers, and the tree buds will all pop out at once, so it´s time to enjoy the peaceful working conditions.

Can you tell I´m really into mulch?  So nice, though, to just peel off the mulch blanket and sow.

My first planting!  Spinach, two weeks late, according to my planting calendar. I felt like I should start gardening like I mean it, so I put some brain work in in the winter planning the planting schedule for starts and direct sowing, and it sure feels good now to have a simple schedule to follow.

I mapped the garden in seven areas, for crop rotation, estimated how much of X thing I want to grow, and then calc’ed back/forward from frost date and made a calendar.  Now all I have to do is follow it.  Far less thinking.  It´s nice to not be mapping each little bed for “what was in here last year/previous two?”  Tedium.

Provided my last frost date projection (guess) of May 21 is not wildly off (actual date fluctuates between Apr 30 and Jun 1 in the last five years), the planting calendar will be a wild success.

Inside, the starts are thriving.  Again with the calendar, I shouldn’t have too-leggy tomatoes and too-late celery when it´s time to transplant out, thanks to my planned and staggered starting.  Yes, I´m just now figuring this out. 

Atlas melon sprout is pushing up a huge chunk of dirt on that tiny stem
All of them like to lift up a little dirt, but not that much!

Round two, Piglets in the lead

Sure enough, the piglets went to bed in the pig house.  Excellent. 

We closed up the fence in the night.  We’ve so got these pigs now.

In the morning, HW went to feed them.  They both bolted, straight through the fence like it wasn’t there.

You’d think, maybe there’s something wrong with the fence.  They don´t even squeak when they go through it.  HW, having had the same thought, is checking the fence the hard way, every day, and it’s on.  He’s getting a good lift,  even with big boots (I will not check the fence that way).

On my way home from work, I met my pigs coming out the road.  This is disconcerting, to meet one’s livestock strolling up the road you’re driving down.  Oh hey!

They looked small from the driver’s seat, vulnerable, like a couple of toddlers confidently taking a walk together.

I chased them all the way home, although they kept pulling over to the shoulder for all the world to let me by, and they weren’t afraid of the truck.  They kept stopping on the side of the road, looking back at me.  Go aheadWhy aren’t you passing?  They were afraid of ME, though, when I stepped out of the truck and charged them.  Zoom!

That did it.  they’re expanding their territory now.  The pigs can’t be marching up the road visiting the neighbours.  That’s just embarrassing.  (This is all embarrassing, it’s just kind of funny too, and if it helps someone else-).

I extracted the stored chicken fence, schlepped it over and starting setting it up around pigland, knowing the piglets would be moseying over from the driveway, hungry after their big run home.  I was about half done when they showed up, and seeing me, hid themselves.  I finished anyways, rushing, leaving a big funnel open.  If they go to bed at night again, then we close the fence in the night, muhahaha!

I lurked.  I waited.  I furtively encouraged the pigs from the woods to pigland vicinity.  I watched from afar.  The pigs approached the sizable gap in the fence, did some sniffing, had a discussion, reached consensus, turned, and purposefully marched off into the woods.

Oh GOOD GOD!  I set off at a run, down our trail, and got in front of them.  It was a near thing.  They were headed somewhere, deliberately.  Now it was dusk, and I walked back and forth in front of them, and after they turned, kicked around making noise until they wandered back in the vicinity of pigland again.  This time, with dark falling in the woods, they were content to root around under the bird feeder, winding down.  I waited, for ages, until I saw them hesitantly take steps into the confines of the fence, and I retired.  NOW we’ve got them.

Spoiler:

Yes, now we’ve got them.  This works.  Two-strand electric fence for pigs?  No way!  Chicken/sheep mesh fence – yes.

 

 

 

Rare sighting: the bathing chicken

At the beginning of the winter when the chickens were first incarcerated in the greenhouse for the season, we prepared some bird baths.

Inspired by my neighbour, who brings warm (room temperature) sand from her house to the hen house (hot bath!), I put a bunch of mud on the woodstove to heat up.

I shoveled the mud out of a couple of popular summer-time hen bathing holes, where, when it wasn’t soaking wet, it was fine dust.  The old style metal crisper trays were perfect for heating on the wood stove.

It took days to dehydrate the dirt.  It cracked like the desert, made little popping volcano vents, and then we’d break it up and cook it some more.  HW stirred it assiduously,  raving about how much those lucky birds were going to enjoy these baths, and pronouncing it not yet ready, day after day.

Finally, the bird baths- heavy with warm, finely stirred, premium dirt- went out to the greenhouse.   I was looking forward to seeing the birds enjoy them, too, probably in the lazy, sunny, afternoon.  I expected to hear excited clucking, to find two hens and the oversized rooster jammed in one bin at once and overflowing the sides, legs sticking out in odd directions….

and I never saw them.  Not one single solitary sighting of a chicken getting her dirt bath on.

They were definitely using it.   They were using it with vigour.  There was a dirt radius around each bin.  Feathers in the dirt.  Week by week, the level in each bin went down.  Every time a chicken bathes, she covers herself thoroughly with dirt, then gets up, walks out, and shakes herself off like a dog, making a Pigpen puff of dust.  This slowly erodes the dirt capital.

Months passed.  Then last week, I caught a brown hen in the bath!  I crept back from the door, went for my camera, and of course, she was finished her ablutions  by the time I got back with it.  One sighting in months – the odds were poor that I’d ever catch another.

But I did!  I didn’t waste time going for my camera but used my damaged phone – a sighting!

Seen as though in a dream…

 

Play structure day

It was rearranging time again in the greenhouse, which is a big party for all the birds.

First their hay bale play structure was on the north side of the greenhouse, now it’s going to the south. The bales are really disintegrating now, but that’s ok.  They don’t have to last much longer.

Funny, the most action is not where I’m removing the hay bales from, but where I’m putting them.  There’s a bale here now where formerly there was not?  Fascinating!img_5384

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One hay bale

Immediately they have to stand all over it and discuss.

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Three hay bales

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Look how high the snow is outside!

Now they’re starting to get interested in what’s exposed on the other side of the room.

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She knows what’s good

 

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All done!

I love the rooster mincing across the high wire.  And the guinea on the right.

As usual, the layers tired of the gym and the Silkies came and established their clubhouse.  img_5394

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Snow’s even higher on the non-sun side.

Seedy Saturday!

I got all the seeds I needed for the year (including tobacco!) at Seedy Saturday, hosted by Helping Nature Heal, in Bridgewater.

Nova Scotia’s  “big” organic seed companies were all there vending seeds – Hope Seeds, Annapolis Seed, Cochrane Family Seeds, plus more – Twisted Brook,  Yonder Hill, Storm Cast, and the South Shore Public Library’s Seed Library.

Then there was the free seed table, where attendees dropped off their surplus saved seeds for others to take- lots of flower seeds!

Since I was saving so much on shipping costs, I came home with a few “flights of fancy” seeds (peanuts?!) that will make this year’s experiments.

I met Nikki Jabbour, local celebrity author and year-round gardener, who gave the morning lecture, and there was a delicious soup or chili lunch with bread and popcorn, donations accepted for the food bank.

This was Helping Nature Heal‘s 11th Seedy Saturday, but the first time I made it.  It was packed, unsurprisingly.

 

Bedtime is nigh

Could it be?  Almost time for the big rooster to go to bed in the coop?

I got him in November, when my last, most excellent and sorely missed, rooster was eaten.  He persisted in going to roost on the roof of the coop every night.  No biggie.  Every night, grab him and set him on the ramp, and he walks up it remarking on how that‘s where all the hens got to.  Eventually, through repeatedly waking up inside the coop,  he will figure out that that is where he is meant to begin his night.  It works for all chickens, usually in a few days.  Even the most stubborn little pile of chicks changed their habits in a few weeks.

So for Copperhead, it’s getting on three months.  Just when we were starting to notice that he was extra persistent with his roof roosting, I got three new-to-me hens.  HW didn’t know about the new arrivals and came in from evening lock-up outraged, that “that new rooster is teaching the hens bad habits.  THREE of them were out on the roof with him!”  Whereupon I momentarily forgot all about the new arrivals as well and exclaimed  “Really?  Three of them?”

The three “new” hens showed surprising attachment to the rooster and roof, also bedding on the roof, night after night.  They would arrange themselves in the same order, make the same indignant sounds when grabbed and displaced to the ramp.

The rooster even came to know the whole routine.  Our arrival after dusk means a grabbing, and he’d stand up and get nervous as soon as the door opened.  We had to strategize; alternate grabbing him or the hens first, because he started to ran away once all the hens had been removed; he knew it was his turn.  We tried agitating him off the roof right at dusk, and then, it being too dark to fly up again, he’d walk around and find his way up the ramp himself “Oh, that’s where all you ladies went!” We were hopeful.  It didn’t work.

one hen left

HW has been casting aspersions on his intelligence from the beginning, and this isn’t helping.

Days went by.  Weeks.  Rooster and three hens, evening lockup = nightly roo-grab.  Then one night, there were only two hens.  One hen had figured it out!  She turned out to be the precocious one of the three.  More days passed, turning into two weeks.  Then another hen went to bed on her own (four days ago).  And tonight, oh frabjous day! the rooster was out there alone!  Looking pouty and forlorn, too.  Now, now surely he will get the hint!

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You’re gonna grab me, aren’t you?

(I wrote this a week ago.  He’s still holding out alone on the roof.)

Nor’easter

A proper storm’s blowing up.  The kind where snow swirls in the door when you open it and the wind is biting.  Sleet is skittering on the steel roof and the white stuff is starting to accumulate.

The hens are conserving their energy.  Only two eggs today – two!  Today was a nice days, but obviously their inner barometers consider the future, and said to hold on to their egg energy.

We’re supposed to get 30-40cm (1ft), which will be cool in ways- it will be normal; feel like a proper Canadian winter.  The winter so far has been weird as heck, with yoyo-ing temperatures, and not very much snow.  It might be a snow day!  It’s fun to be snowed in.  It would be nice for the ground to get a blanket on it.

Not so cool – it’s bound to knock half the province out of power again and make it dangerous and miserable for anyone who can’t have a fun snow day.  Plus it will be mad drifted with the wind.

All growth

2016 was a tough year.  The defining event was the loss of our dog, which continues to be very painful.  Sure, I got even more done than usual, but I get tireder every year and the list stretches out in front of me to the horizon like a never-ending road.

There is every reason to be completely incapacitated by depression.  Natural systems and species are being destroyed, Syria is being destroyed by war, nations are falling apart, and society as a whole seems more incompetent than ever at correcting the course.  I’ve been frightened for our fate, that feeling seems pretty darn appropriate, and I can’t do a whole lot about it.

And so, this sentiment, embroidered by my new friend (one bright light of my 2016), that about sums up the year.  All Growth does not Take Place in Sunlight.  My new favourite phrase.

And a quote:

“You must not lose faith in humanity.  Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.”  -Gandhi

Time for a nap!

We got snow today, and are now properly snowed in, which is the best.

We were both out in it for awhile too, as more than 15cm fell in a few hours, from 8ish to lunchtime.  It was kind of fun to be out in, in a creeping along an un-plowed rural highway in a blowing whiteout through snow deep enough to rub the belly of the vehicle kind of way.  Things that are funnest once you’ve made it home safe and warm.  Then for extra fun the temperature suddenly rose to change all that snow to heavy snowball snow in the afternoon.

Interestingly, it seems there was snow all across Canada today, including on Vancouver Island– how singular!

Coop Infiltration

I go to collect eggs, and what the? I find a Silkie egg in the coop:

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There’s a Silkie laying eggs in the big hens’ coop.  Not only that, she’s laying them in the nest box where the others do. This must be the place for eggs.

This is amazing to me that one of the hens got it into her head to walk up the ramp of a coop she’s never been in, in the dark, where the residents are twice her size, and decide that’s the right place to lay an egg.

 

 

Loving the time change

Falling Back is treating me well.  There’s that whole temporary “what will you do with your extra hour” and gloatingly “sleeping in” on the day of, but the feeling of abundant time persists for me.  It seems like there’s many more than one extra hour in every day, still.

There is little I like more than “What?  It’s only 4:30?” – the crucial word “only” appearing in the sentence is a remarkable reversal of the usual sensation.

I’m getting so much done!  It seems like it’s getting dark early (duh) but then the clock says there’s a whole third of the day left.  I find this spacious sensation more bizarre because I don’t especially live by the clock anyway, but by the light.  Having chickens is like that.  They are not impressed by your hocus-pocus with a clock.  The sun is up.  Feed me.

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I heard someone on CBC agitating against changing the time at all, saying that Springing Ahead change imposes a one-hour jet lag on the whole nation (except Saskatchewan), and this causes a reduction of productivity and more traffic accidents.

It’s not just Saskatchewan.  I happen to have lived in one small recalcitrant region of BC that refused to Save any Daylight (or adopt metric).  I can’t say if it increases productivity but it definitely contributes to missed ferries.

osprey-crossing

First time voter

Although I am a dual citizen, I’ve never before considered voting for a president.

I wonder how many Canadians with the right to vote in an American election came out of the woodwork this year and did the footwork to cast an absentee ballot.

If the postmaster of my tiny rural Nova Scotia town remarked to me that “lots” of people were sending in their ballots, and people I didn’t even know knew I was dual are asking me if I voted, then … I suspect that there were record numbers of overseas/absent/dual citizens exercising their franchise this month.

I’m curious to see the voter turnout numbers.

One thing’s for sure, the elections office staff in the counties that my husband and I voted in were excessively, generously, patient and helpful.  Making international phone calls to us, on election day to make sure we knew we were able to vote, and how?  They seemed to really want to make every vote count.

Whatever happens tonight, the sun may rise tomorrow on a different political landscape, but when it rises on the literal one,  all the chickens (and cows and cats and dogs) will still need to be fed.