Animals

We’ve had Maisy for a little while now and she’s settling in beautifully.

To be honest, I expected a dog from the dogs home would have more undesirable habits than she does, but really, we’ve not run up against anything yet. Not anything major. She needed some house training, either she’d never been taught, or she’d regressed living in the concrete pens.

We’re slowly picking up on things that may have happened in her last home. Like, arms being waved around freak her out and she hides under our bed until we coax her out. Under our bed isn’t a big deal, as that’s where she’s sleeping and where she disappears to when the kids are being overwhelming. It’s her space.

If Nathan yells, or gets shitty, she gets really anxious. Shaking and hiding in my front kind of anxious, or disappearing under the bed again. Whereas if I yell, no response. Luckily Nathan is a giant softy, and while he will yell at Amy, or stomp around the house grumpily, he very rarely growls at the animals.

We think there is a possibility wherever she was before had a guy who yelled a lot and possibly hit her, just from her reaction to Nathan occasionally. Goodness knows if we’re yelling at each other (we yell a lot, usually ending with us both in giggles) she takes my side. Right before she hides. Heh.

She is so snuggly and does her best to be as close to someone as possible. If I’m reading, she’ll either sneak up next to me and put her head in my lap, or failing that, lay on the floor as close to me as possible.

She’s a little spoiled.

She finally chases a ball, but only inside and only if we throw it carefully. A huge step up from the fear of balls being thrown that she had when she first came home.

She adores the kids. ADORES them. She’s learning that Isaac hates being licked, so she just lays as close to him as possible. She’s still very licky, but she doesn’t like Isaac screeching ‘NO!’ at her very much. She runs around like a maniac with Amy outside, Amy giggling away, before darting in for a pat and taking off again. She has full access to the small yard, but the big yard is lead-only at this point. She is much too interested in my poultry to be allowed out there alone.

The cats are still rather unimpressed, but they’re getting used to each other.

Training has, so far been rather simple. She is anxious to please and once she knows what I want, she remembers for next time and is so willing.

She follows me everywhere, including to the shower and toilet, sticking as close to my ankles as possible. Which is interesting. I’ve tripped over her plenty and spend a lot of time growling ‘for fucks sake, MOVE’.

I’m thrilled though. She is the perfect dog for us and every day cements her that little bit further into the family. I can’t quite remember what it was like before her.

And she is just SO GRATEFUL to be here. You can see it in her eyes.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

I have duck eggs hiding everywhere, increasing in number, one day at a time. We went without any ducks laying (where I could find them) for three weeks and suddenly, I’ve got duck eggs showing up again, in increasingly strange places.

There are 11 in the blackberries (5 pictured, it’s an old picture and the eggs are mostly covered in leaf litter and feathers now).

I stole some, so that my father can have duck eggs for breakfast. He rather likes them.

It’s like a treasure hunt, as I discovered another nest in the shed, next to the building materials and my BIL’s car. It’s got 17 eggs in it and so far, aside from a few foray’s into sitting, no duck has decided to turn them into ducklings. Grumble grumble fucking grumble.

We have a ramp. Before we moved in, we think it was used to drive motorbikes up. Since we’ve been here it’s a ‘castle!’ for Amy and she runs up and down it. Underneath:

Another egg.

The piece de resistance though, is this.

You can’t see any eggs?

No. Me either. Not until the duck, whose tail you can see, hops off the nest, leaving behind sixteen eggs that she is hatching – ducklings due this afternoon, or tomorrow sometime. I’m a little excited.

I did a walk around the yard this morning, only to discover a new nest, in an old chook shelter that we haven’t cleaned out yet. 4 eggs and counting. Two nesting boxes also have freshly laid eggs.

However. I know that at least two ducks are laying somewhere else. God knows where. No doubt they’ll disappear one day, only to appear 5 weeks later with a shitload of ducklings. One duck was spotted coming in from the paddock across the highway (currently full of ewes and newborn lambs) and another from the paddock bordering our property.

It’s like Easter! Only with less chocolate.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

The things with having chooks, is those chooks (if you’ve got a rooster) eventually have babies.

And baby chickens, as tough as they are, sometimes they don’t do so well.

A week ago, one of my hens hatched some chickens. Once I braved her attacks (she’s fucking vicious! I ended up with bruises everywhere) and took her off the nest to count chicks, I found a dead chicken in the bottom of the nest. Perfectly formed, hatched and squashed. Another chicken didn’t make it all the way out of it’s shell, dying at the finish post.

However, we had 5 live chickens, even if one was a bit iffy. I figured I’d keep an eye on it, and left the mother to her angry clucking.

An hour later, I scooted her off the nest and found the iffy chicken was doing even worse. Younger by almost a full day to it’s siblings, it kept getting squashed and left behind and frankly, the poor thing was half dead and exhausted.

So into my pocket it came and inside for a few hours.

I dripped some sugar water into it’s beak for energy and then tucked it into a nest of tissues with a hot water bottle underneath it for warmth.

It slept for a few hours – after hatching, chickens are exhausted. This little one because it was younger than the rest, wasn’t getting a chance to sleep because it’s siblings wanted to peck and move about. It wasn’t able to walk yet and needed a break. The sugar water and time inside gave it some strength and the warmth and peace enabled it to recuperate.

And while I was hopeful it would survive, nothing is ever certain.

A few hours later, right on dark, I put the chicken back with it’s mother – okay, so I practically threw the chicken at it’s mother, while she tried to attack my hand – and I hoped it would make it through the night.

It did and a week later, we still have the five chicks we had the first day.

The hawks are hanging around and I’ve seen more kookaburras in the last week than I have in the last year, but they haven’t stolen a chicken yet. The mother hen is doing a good job and hasn’t taken the babies out into the open much, staying near cover amongst the stables, chook pen and blackberry bush.

They’re pretty cute though.

These chicks are our next generation. The hens will be kept for eggs and any roosters will eaten (like the egg eating chook from a while back).

I love that at a week old, they’re already getting their feathers. I’m hoping the little stripy one is a hen, because isn’t the patterning gorgeous?

Third from the left is the little chicken that would have died. It hasn’t gotten any adult feathers yet.

They’re pretty cute. Amy is a big fan. So are the cats – although the way the mother hen attacked our tom cat this morning, I don’t think he’ll be contemplating a chicken dinner any time soon.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }