Wild hog run



Picture from hoghunting.com

I went out for a jog this morning. 

 

Usually, I go to an exercise class at 5:30 on Tuesday mornings, but my shoulder has been giving me some trouble so I decided to give it a rest for a few weeks.  I still need my exercise, though, so I got out and ran.  The weather has been beautiful this spring and I love being outside as the sun comes up.   I am a slow jogger, but speed has never been my goal.  Running is difficult for me and I am always proud of myself just for keeping at a trot instead of slowing to a walk. 

 

When I left home I wasn't sure how far I would go.  I just headed out, one foot in front of the other.  As I got on the main road, a little more than a mile from home, I started to think about how much farther I would go.  Up to the next driveway would give me about a 2.75 mile round trip, a little more and I would get in a 5K.  So, head down, calculating how many more steps to run, I was in my own little jogging world.

 

Just then, I heard a sound like a loud growl.  My head jerked up and I saw what looked like 2 or 3 wild dogs crossing the road in front of me.  I gave a silly little scream and realized that I was seeing a family of wild hogs run from the wheat field on one side of the road into the woods on the other side.  They ran in a straight line -- big hog, baby hog, bigger hog, big hog, baby hog -- until 10-15 of them crossed the road.  Wild hogs are known to be vicious and I had no idea what they thought of me being so close. It was a growling sound that had woken me from my reverie.  Not a happy-muddy-pig-in-the-sunshine sound.
 

I stopped dead in my tracks, stood still just long enough to gather my wits, turned around and ran back towards home.  My total distance this morning was 2.69 miles, not as far as I had planned, but I made it back alive.  And that seems like a major accomplishment for today!

 

I use Endomondo to track my workouts.  The program uses GPS to map my runs so I can see my speed, distance, and altitude.  When I got home this morning I was curious to see what my adventure looked like as pure fact on a graph. I could see that at the halfway point I stopped and then there was a spike in my speed as I ran faster than I had the whole time.  I remember thinking that I didn't want to run too fast so that the hogs wouldn't sense my fear and come after me :) 

 

Next time I get out to run -- tomorrow -- I think I will bring some protection from the wild varmints lurking in the wheat.

 

 Ahhh.... country living at its best!



One of those days

Last Saturday was one of those perfect days.  The weather was breezy and warm so we spent a lot of the day outside.

 

Jonathan was with us.  He gathered eggs and then delivered the eggs to his great-grandparents.  Scout went with him.

 

 

Later in the day I took a few  pictures of Jonathan.  Usually, I don't let the grass get this tall and crazy, but this year, I just don't seem to care as much.  In past years, the tall grass has been like noise in my head.  This year, though, I am enjoying the red and white flowers on the clover, and I like to see the new spring grass swaying in the breeze.  Maybe I'm just lazy and don't want to spend hours on a lawnmower.   Maybe I'm just loosening up.  Either way, it made a good backdrop.





 

The chickens hadn't spent any time out of their pen, but Saturday just seemed like the right day for a taste of clover.

 

This is a Buff Orpington hen.  She looks just like a chicken out of a children's story book.  This breed is gentle, big, fluffy, and they lay lots of eggs.

 

This chicken is one of the Aracaunas.  They all look a little different, but I don't think I have ever had one with such a funny beard.  This bearded lady lays either a blue or a green egg.

This hen is another Aracauna.  See how different her coloring is?  And how small her brain must be to fit in her head?

 

This is Scout's I-don't-like-chickens face.

The icing on this cupcake of a day was that we put together an impromptu supper (mostly Sarah did), and all of the grandkids and their parents ate dinner here.

These are the good old days...

A puppy!

I have been lonely since Shiloh died.  At first I just missed her terribly.  Over the past few months, though, I have missed her company out here on our little farm. 

She was always with me when I was outside.  I never walked to the chicken house alone.  I never went for a jog by myself.  Even while I cut the grass, she was close by.  While I absolutely love my home place and being away from the busyness of the city, I need a friend to share it with me.

Today, I am meeting my new friend.

 

He is an 11 week old miniature Australian Shepherd and I will meet him in a couple of hours.

 

I'm so happy!

 

 



First eggs in the claw

We got baby chicks about 6 months ago.  They have grown into beautiful chickens, but up until now they have been too young to lay eggs.  I always begin looking for their first eggs when they are about 6 months old or when the rooster in the mix begins to crow. 

The 'rooster crowing' sign was not a good indicator with this batch of chickens because he has been crowing for a couple of months.  (sigh) 

When I went to feed the girls this evening, though, they had a little gift waiting for me. 

Five little eggs!

I'm such a proud mama and wanted to take a picture of their achievement.  Unfortunately, I was not born to be a hand model.

We have the Dirty Glove Picture...

The Crooked Claw...

 

The Gnarly Claw...

 

 

And the Spread Finger Claw...

 

 

Not one egg was dropped in the chronicling of this event, though.  Claws do come with benefits!





The bird news

Our spoiled bunny

Ollie only likes clover flowers.  He will eat the green part of the clover, but he really only likes the flowers. 

I thought that he loved all of the clover.  Every time I go out to see him I pick a big bunch of the green goodness and feed it to him.  He always seemed happy enough.  But, last week Daniel and Bella picked some clover for him.  Daniel did like me and picked bunches of the whole plant.  Bella, on the other hand, picked only the flowers.  When they went in with Ollie to feed him, he went straight for the flowers and actually growled at Daniel for trying to feed him the green parts.  

I did a little experiment with the silly rabbit and gave him a mixture of flowers and green tops.  He ate the flowers and hopped away, leaving a big bunch of fresh clover.

Just on the other side of the fence, watching this whole escapade were some chickens who had not been given any clover, yet.  They would have been thrilled with Ollie's leftovers.

While I watched this happening, I thought about myself.  I wondered how many times God has given me a gift that I didn't appreciate.  Probably daily.  Just watching Ollie, and seeing the chickens' reaction to his arrogance convicted me to do better.

And Ollie had better straighten up, too.  This rooster looks to be in a mood to teach him a lesson!

Leisure

Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare?

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass, 

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight, 

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can 

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

                                                                                                        W. H. Davies

The flying snake

I hate snakes and I don't need anyone to tell me how beneficial they can be around the farm.  I have cats to kill rats and cats don't slither in the grass.

When I walked outside today I saw this "little fella" in my path.  The weather was warm yesterday, today is cooler, and I think he was caught out and unable to move very well.  He doesn't appear to be poisonous, he is mostly paralyzed, and in an extremely rare act of mercy, I decided to move him.  Not kill him.  I had planned to take him to the edge of the woods, explain to him the grace that had just been extended, and leave him there.  I found a stick and picked him up.

Just then, I had a brilliant thought of taking his picture.  As I put the stick down with my mind focused on getting the camera, I totally disregarded the springyness of the stick.

The stick bumped the ground, bounced, and the snake flew in the air.  Oh, not so high.  Only about eye level.  And only about 6 inches from my face.  I am certain that hidden cameras could have caught me doing my oh-there-had-better-not-be-a-snake-on-me dance.

I refuse to be undone by a baby snake, however, so I still took his picture.  I did not, however, take him to the edge of the woods.  He is back in the grass where I found him.  I have noticed that, for me, one clumsy act is usually followed by others and I'm not risking him landing in my hair next time.

Flow

After nearly seven inches of rain in 3 days, we have water where, usually, there is  none.

 A pecan orchard, beautiful enough for a wedding, now has white-water rapids.

We always wonder what is happening with the water levels while we sleep.  Will the water be over the road when it is time to go to work?  We take one vehicle "to the other side".  One boat here, one boat there.

We are leaving the rising waters today and driving to New Orleans to get on a cruise boat.

Just going with the flow.

Winter's yard

The river is up.  It happens every winter when there are big rains north and east of us.  You can't tell where the trees end and water begins in this picture.  I like that.  

A mossy moon.

The clover is already threatening its takeover of our yard.  We are expecting freezing temperatures a few nights this week so there is a slight chance that we will spray some RoundUp on the yard within the week.  A  very small, slight chance.  

We always threaten.  We rarely spray.

Daryl and my nephew, Mitch, are working today to restock the woodpile.  I do love a fire in the fireplace and I'm grateful that he will spend his day off from his regular job to work so hard.  A man who worked with Daryl used to say that firewood warms you twice.  Once when you cut and split it, the second time when you burn it.  

I'm regularly amazed at how much work it takes to keep our little 10 acres going and I sometimes think about how different our lives would be if we owned a loft apartment in the city.  Since we live here, though, and since I love it so much, I do take satisfaction in the reward of hard work.  I also have learned to let go of any idea I ever had of perfection or of turning our land into some sort of beautiful garden.  My goal is to keep the space directly connected to the house looking somewhat manicured.  For the rest, I will do what I want to do, and what I can do.  After all, there are no landscape or yard care police roaming out here :)

At least I hope not.

Here comes the sun...

Oh, sun, I am so glad to see you!

I do love cloudy, rainy, dreary days.  We have had many of them lately.  And, if the skies are gray again tomorrow, I will be happy.

But, for today, I am thankful for the sun's rays as they break out across the field.

A November gift

Today was a gift.

I suppose that every day is a present that God gives us, but he gift-wrapped this one even more special than normal.  If this mid-November Saturday had been gray and rainy no one would be surprised.  After all, we are in the waning days of fall, winter is looming on the next calendar page.

But today is one I dream of all year.  Perfectly sunny, warm, and all in tints of yellow.  

I walked around the yard soaking up the sounds and views around me.  The slope to the boat landing leads to the back waters of the Alabama River.  Much of the year it is muddy, but today the water came up to the bottom of the landing.  It is hard to tell, but the shiny place at the bottom of the picture is the river.

The birds and squirrels accepted today's gift with a playful attitude.  They sang more, chattered to each other, played in the big oak.

I've always heard that robins signal the coming of spring, but that would be if you live in more northern climates.  Our yard was full of robins today. 

As I roamed around I found my way to the top of the hill in our yard.  We share a driveway with Daryl's parents.  This is where the drive splits, theirs to left, ours to the right.

At the back of our hill is a small burial plot.  A few years ago when Jackie's cat, Scarlett, died I buried her at the base of a tree.  It was just me and her on a rainy day I'll never forget.  I placed a small piece of flagstone on top of her grave as a marker.

When Shiloh died we buried her next to Scarlett.  They would never have been this close to each other in life :)   Scarlett's stone stayed flat for years, but Daryl stood the stones up and I like it that way.

One day I'd like to put a place to sit and reflect and enjoy the beauty on top of our hill.  And when I am gone and cremated I want my ashes scattered or buried there.  Not because I want to be buried next to my dog, but because I can't think of a better resting place for the earthly me.  

The eternal me will already have gone on to endless days just like this one.

Nut farm

This week I was using our lawn mower to clean up the yard.  Kind of a once a month weed cutting and leaf mulching chore.  For the first time in the ten years we have lived in this house I was struck by how many nuts we grow around here.  

I have mentioned the black walnuts several times.  They are green when they fall from the tree and the ones in the picture are just a little smaller than a baseball.  After they lay on the ground for a few days, they begin to turn black and you can see that on the one on the right.  The black part eventually falls off and leaves a hard shell with a walnut inside.

We also have several hickory trees.  The outer shell of the hickory nut is very hard, thick, and just like a round wooden box.  It is in segments and falls off leaving the softer shell with the nut inside.  This is a favorite of the squirrels and we can hear the hard shells falling from the trees all day long.

The pecan crop in our yard is pretty good this year.  In most years the worms get to the pecans before we can pick them up.  This year, we seem to be ahead of them.

My favorite nut in the yard is the acorn.  Most of the oak trees around here are in the woods, but we have a couple of them at the edge of where I mow.  In my very limited experience, the larger the tree, the smaller the acorn.

Here is why I like the acorns best:  they are just so cute!

I can either look at it like a beautiful, intricate creation of God,

or I can think of it as a little VeggieTales-type character wearing a funny hat knitted by his grandmother:)

No eggs

I have chickens for one reason: Fresh Eggs.

As a side benefit, it is fun to have them around.  They are interesting to watch, they eat my scraps, and it makes our little space feel like an old fashioned farmstead.  But, they aren't smart, they aren't pets, and they are a lot of work and expense.

So, without the eggs we just wouldn't keep them around.  Over the past couple of months their egg production has gone from a dozen a day, down to five a day, and now only two chickens are laying occasionally.  And we are feeding 25 of the little girls!

It isn't their fault, though.  They are just too old to lay eggs.  Over the years we have found that chickens are good layers for about a year and a half.  For six months after that, they do okay.  By the time they are around 3 years old, their working life is over.

If I had been paying attention, I would have added some young hens to the brood about a year ago.  I wasn't though, so here we are -- store-bought eggs in the refrigerator.  Yes, it's true.  I had to buy eggs.  In the past 15 years that has happened to me only one other time!

About three weeks ago I placed an order for 25 baby chicks.  I chose three different breeds:  two of them are good layers and don't mind the cold weather and the other breed lays the green and blue eggs.

One morning last week at about 7:00am, we got a call from the post office asking us to please come pick up our baby chicks.  When I walked inside, I could hear the little peepers.  All 25 of them came in a box that is about 12x10x5 inches.

When I first set them up in their box in the basement, they were so noisy that I could easily hear them all over the house.

As it turned out, they just weren't warm enough. I turned on their heat lamp and aimed it into the box.  They grew calmer and quieter.  Within a few minutes they were all just standing still soaking up the warmth.  As they got warm, they got sleepy.  One by one they began to close their eyes -- and lose their balance!  One would fall over and knock down the few standing next to it.  Then they would stand and start the process again.

The poor little critters were just exhausted.  Within a 48 hour period they had been hatched from an egg, put in a box with strangers, shipped from Texas to Alabama on a truck, spent the night in a post office, and then plopped down into a cardboard box.  With full tummies and a heat lamp they settled in for a nap.  When I went back down to check on them, they had all spread their little wings and laid down flat on their stomachs, heads stretched out in front.

I would find myself tiptoeing around the house, trying not to wake the sleeping babies.  I was careful not to bang any pots while I was cooking.  That lasted about a day and then I remembered --they are CHICKENS, for Pete's sake!

Do you know how long it takes a baby chick to get old enough to lay eggs?  SIX MONTHS!  Due to my mismanagement on the farm, I'll be buying my eggs for six more months!  I don't plan to let this happen again, though.  In fact, I am pretty upset with myself to be in this position!

I feel a little like Scarlett O'Hara in this clip:

"As God as my witness, they're not going to lick me.  I'm going to live through this.  And when it's all over, I'm never going to be hungry again, no nor any of my folk."

(hahahaha)

In some of Scarlett's other words, "Fiddle-dee-dee!  I'll think about that tomorrow."

October full moon

It was the night of my favorite full moon, the one in October.

He called me on the way home from work.

"I'm bringing home a party.  Wieners, buns, marshmallows, Hershey's bars, and graham crackers."

He cut some firewood, pulled up the fire pit, a chair for him, a chair for me, and built the fire.

Then he waited for the fire to get to the perfect wiener-roasting temperature.

We made our hot dogs and smores, drank our Coke and root beer.  As the beautiful, huge moon came up, we saw it through the trees.

And we celebrated autumn.

Together.

A wandering herd

Every few days a herd of horses comes to visit.  They live down the road from us and seem to just wander around.  Last year there were seven, this year there are nine.

Some days they wander the country road and wind up here.

Where the green pastures grow.