Sittin On A Porch

Sittin On A Porch
Our little back porch

Saturday, October 16, 2010


Someone ate David Smith.  I can't tell Christopher that a raccoon ate his chicken.  Pat and I already talked about it this morning.  We will pull the gold fish switch and see if that helps.  If he figures it out, then this will be David Smith the second.  It had to be some kind of animal capable of getting in through the rabbit hole.   I suppose it could also be a fox.  I don't know.  All that was left was a pile of feathers and scat from the predator.  It was pretty big scat, so it could have been either of those creatures.  All I know is that David Smith is gone.  I cried.  I understand the circle of life, but sometimes it is just too much in my face.  sigh

But the same day I discovered David Smith gone, I checked on the other chickens and there sat Zora, in her shiny black feathers sitting on a nest of about a dozen eggs.  Well, there is one less egg because nestled into her chest feathers was the palest yellow, almost white peep.  Peeping away.  And now there are three.  sigh

Mary had just told me that her neighbor Carolyn had offered her some biddies.  We had both talked about not wanting to take on baby chickens at this point. It is a lot of work keeping them warm and clean and fed and watered, and safe.  And with winter just around the corner that means all the more care and attention they will need.  And now there are three peeps to take care of.  Zora will do a fine job, hopefully in the beginning, but as they get bigger, she will loose her focus and then nature takes it course, and that is just too much for me right now.  I would rather do all the work to try and keep them alive then to have to go out each day and pick up little dead bodies that have succumbed to some tragic ending.  sigh

I swear you give that Zora Neal just a day or two when your body is so beat up with chemo that you miss picking up a couple of eggs (she will bury them sometimes so that I can't find them) and she gets on that nest when she sees me coming and she is mean.  I will finally give up because I hate having her peck at me and then flap her wings up in my face and if I do get her off the nest then she will come at my legs.  Shoot anyone with that much passion deserves to sit on her eggs.  And for some reason I always believe that she will never hatch them.  But she does.  I have only had the Marvella twins who were so set on brooding.  But they only hatched out 2 peeps with all their efforts all those years.  I don't know why Zora can keep putting them out, when the Marvellas in their whole lives only managed the 2 between them.  I need to have a mind shift, and just be the biped, the one with the alleged bigger brain and find a way to keep her from sneaking eggs and then hatching them out.  

I hate to admit it though I love the babies.  I love the soft, fluffy peeps, making that noise that wakes some mother instinct in me.  I can almost tell you how many peeps there are before I even get into the coop to check for sure.  That is part of the bunny problem I have.  I tried to give them a happy life as close to their natural world as they wanted, and before I knew it I have bunnies all over the yard.  And those the size of a tennis ball, mostly golden colored with the soft white fur on their bellies.  The big eyes, the sweetness of a small fury adorable creature.  Sigh, I am a sucker for that.  So today when I plant my pansies and violets I know I have to keep in mind that they are very tasty and the bunnies are going to want them.  I think I will plant some in what had been an herb garden until the chickens and bunnies got to it.  Now it is an unattractive large half filled dirt pile in a container we used for the fountain in Hot Dogs and Cool Cats.  

Herb had painted himself with clown white and played the part of a statue that when the dogs weren't looking could move.  The kids loved it.  Shoot, they loved Herb.  He is a big teddy bear of a man and he can think like children.  He held a blue fish in his hand that squirted water out of it's mouth.  The problem was that the pump was not strong enough to push the water out the fish unless he held it down near his legs.  So from some angles it did not look like he was holding a fish, if you get my drift.  The kids loved that even more.  Bathroom humor is a stage that all kids go through, and even the shyest of children had shiny eyes full of laughter and sparkle when Herb did his fish thing.  He also taught me and two 16 year old boys how to do stage combat and the three of us had a scene where I played the part of the old grandmother cat and they played the parts of two bad dogs.   The scene involved fencing with gaint knitting needles and yarn.  Michael was always afraid of hurting me, but Jeff was fearless.  He and I went at it like, well, like cats and dogs.  But Michael hated to attack me, but it worked just fine with Jeff looking so aggressive in his Dalmatian face and Michael so nervous in his golden retriever face.  The audience loved that too.  

I think I will pick up some close fit together fencing and close in the reclaimed planter.  I have a bag of potting soil so I can fill the planter back up and fence it and then plant some baby greens for salads and put some of my viola johnny jump ups in it too.  I use the flowers and the leaves of all the plants in the violet family, including the wild ones for salads.  I use other wild greens and flowers in my salads too, but it is so dry right now, there is not much in the way of wild greens at this time.  I also grow other flowers just to use for eating.  I usually do a program with the Garden circle involving edible flower and garden plants.  I love the flowers, but I love more enjoying their delicate flavors and color in my food.

We had a fire at the Jefferson County Animal Sthis past week, so I am going to head up to the post office for the fund raiser.  No animals were harmed, but this is a big expense for our little shelter.  And after I go there I think I will go to the pumpkin patch at the Waukeenah Methodist church and see if they have a fun pumpkin.  I already have a few pumpkins.  I never cut them.  Well, unless I eat them.  Otherwise I just have pumpkins sitting around my house, inside and out.  I love their colors and shapes.  I have one blue pumpkin I grew last year that is still strong and beautiful sitting on a shelf in my house.  I had a squash one time for almost 2 years before something got through the tough shell and it started to go bad.  Then I fed it to the chickens.  The flesh is too hard for them to eat mostly, but if you let it sit for a couple of days the insect creatures that come to feast on the gourds is like Halloween candy to the chickens, so the circle of life continues 

"It ain't necessarily so" by Willie Nelson just came on and Bob loves to dance to it.  The dog, not my friend from work.  He stands up on his back two legs and we sway and then I let go and spin around and so does he and then back up he comes on those strong legs.  Our dancing has wakened Harry who clambers off the couch still sleepy eyed and dances with me also.  Harry can no longer get up on his back legs.  He is large and old but he loves to sway back and forth and I hold his shoulders and dance around him.  He still loves to dance.  And then the song is over and I sit down and finish this record of today.  Bob gets up in the other red chair.  Harry falls back asleep where he is on the floor.  I need to get up and get dressed and up town to the fund raiser.  The day is bright.  The green is that deep tired green of fall that is dark and intense with a spring and summer filled with different greens, now slowing down.  The temperature is getting warm enough that I can be comfortable outside.  I don't like cold weather.  I never complain about the heat, but once it drops below 50 forget it, I am going to whine.  But it looks like a good day.  My muscles are still slow to react, but the dancing helped, maybe.  I know that I am getting up and getting things done.  I may be tired, but at the end of the day, I would rather be able to see accomplishments and be tired, then to just be beaten down tired.  Get up, get going.  The day is fine, life is good and waiting.


  1. This is a perfect post.
    I hope you have a perfect day.

  2. Kathleen, I have written down in large purple letters the last few lines of your post. I will look at them every day and be inspired. Thank you!

  3. I am sorry about the death of David Smith. But the life of the little chicks is good. Hope that you have a wonderful Saturday enjoying the sun and warmth.

  4. I'm sorry about David Smith. How did he get that name? It's kind of funny!

    Congrats on your baby peeps.

  5. Petit fleur, David Smith was named by my son Christoper. He stayed with Kathleen for a week, that is when David Smith was hatched. Christopher loves watching Dr Who. He came up with the name of two of the actors, that had played Dr Who. One's first name was David and the other's last name is Smith. Hence the naming of David Smith.

  6. Pat,

    You know, I just sort of knew there was a story there. Thanks for sharing. Your son sounds like a cool kid.