Opal...

 One irrefutable fact about sharing a life with animals is that they leave us with deep sadness when they die. In February we had to set Smooch the Pug free from a life that had become more painful and confusing than joyful. He started out as my dog, but switched his allegiance to Rachel many years ago. Still, I loved him and he was here a lot; a funny, cuddly, quirky, maddening, adorable little guy.

Luckily, we already had a plan to add a new puppy to the family, and soon she came to lighten the load of grief. Rachel and Evans named her Opal, and she's a delicious little gem.  Feisty, smart, funny, and a supreme snuggler, she has us all smitten.

Bravo, who looked for Smooch each day when Rachel came to work, fell hard for the new morsel. He allows her to hang off his graceful plume of a tail, and lies down so she can leap all over him, biting his face, ears, paws, and deep ruff. If she gets too wild he places a gentle leg over her, pinning her down, then proceeds to polish her with his tongue from her smushed nose to her cinnamon bun tail. By the time he's done she's sleepy and settles in for a nap.

 

 

Flirt was not convinced that any creature smaller and cuter than her had any merit. But she is grudgingly coming to accept the charms that Opal has to offer. 

There are lots of treats being handed out as Opal is trained, and those get shared with any dog in the vicinity. Sometimes, when she thinks no one is looking, she even takes a little snooze with Opal beside her. The puppy radiates a luscious warmth, irresistible to even a curmudgeonly poodle.

Having a puppy around is a mixture of delightful challenge, affirmation of life, injection of laughter, and the joy of falling in love, all over again.

Poor kids...

Baby goats are born without horns, and their little hooves are the consistency of jelly beans. The hooves harden in a day or so, and within a week tiny horn buds are erupting. Many goat owners have their kids "disbudded." This is a fairly barbaric event. A very hot iron is used to burn through the skin and damage the horn growth. The kids cry piteously, but luckily they then nurse from their mamas and soon act as if nothing ever happened. 

In the past I have chosen to let some kids keep their horns, and I always regret it. Horns can be troublesome. They get stuck in fences. And goats with horns can be rough on the goats without horns. One scary time a sweet little horned kid came over to give me some love, and raised his head up suddenly, brushing perilously close to my eye with his sharp, pointy little nub.

In the past I've had a goat farmer with years of experience come and disbud by kids. Then I found out my vet could do it, with the benefit of sedation.  So this year's crop of kids had veterinary quality disbudding. They were given an injection of sedative, and some local anesthetic was injected in the top of their sculls. I wrapped each in a towel to keep them warm, and they dozed in my arms while the vet took care of business. It was still gruesome, (especially when a bit of burning matter flew through the air and landed on my eyelid,) but they didn't know. While they were out the good doctor took care of the troublesome testicles on the other end, gave them their shots, and a big dose of pain killer. She sprayed some magical, silver, liquid bandage on the wounds and soon the kids were up, but wobbly. They nabbed a drink from the milk bar, then headed to the goat cozy to sleep their bad afternoon off. I piled a layer of clean hay on top of them to help them stay warm.

I have more pain medication to give them tomorrow if they act unhappy, but I suspect they'll be bouncing around acting perfectly fine. Goats are tough.

Bluebirds...

When we first moved here there were  three bluebird houses in the back yard. I was overjoyed when the houses were filled, one with a bluebird family, the other two with tree swallows.  Over the years those houses became damaged and we replaced them with new ones, in better locations. One is close to the window I look out each day while I work.

Two or three weeks ago a handsome male bluebird started hanging around, despite some vile weather. I loved hearing him sing his happy song, and he often perched right on top of the bird box while he trilled.

This week a lovely lady bluebird joined him.

They gave the house a good hard look, inside and out.

Then they had a chat about the merits of raising a family here.

Oh how I hope she likes the place!

Kids..!

My calendar today has the word "Bliss," circled on the top. That is because she was bred 5 months ago today, so she would have been due to deliver around this time.  Yesterday she showed definite signs of being in labor. She pawed at the ground, paced, went off by herself. Then around suppertime she flipped a switch and acted perfectly normally.  Livestock can toy with ones emotions like that.

This morning she demanded breakfast, ate every morsel, and then began show labor signs again. We were grooming but kept a sharp eye on her movements. We wondered aloud if Abraham would let us know about kidding as he did last year, when he stood outside which ever window I was closest to and yelled until I came out to see what was going on.

Bliss moved out of our field of view, and a few moments later I finished grooming a little dog and walked him out to his owners car.  As I did, I heard Abraham sing the song of his people. I glanced towards the pasture and saw a kid being born.  The moment I had the dog tucked into his owners car, I hustled out to the pasture. Abraham was calling me with great urgency.

Once there I found a kid on the ground, with both his mama and grandmother actively cleaning him off. Bliss was talking to him with the special, soft, little call that mother goats use with their kids. I helped dry him with a towel, dipped his umbilical cord in iodine, and scooped him up so I could move the happy family to the Goat Cozy, out of the wind.  

Abraham stood close by, watching the activity with great interest.

 



 

 

Bliss and Spirit followed along with the kid and me, and resumed cleaning the little guy once we were in the Cozy. Within moments he stood up and it didn't take much to get him to nurse. Abraham had joined us and he kept a close watch.

After about 30 minutes, Bliss showed signs of more contractions. She laid down, made some sounds that led me to understand that she was decidedly unhappy.  Soon two rather large hooves appeared, then a little nose.  Bliss made louder sounds. Then a very large head popped out. Bliss clambered to her feet and the kid slid out a little more, but then was stuck like a cork in a bottle. I tore the amniotic sac away from his face, and he gasped and sputtered. Then I gently grabbed the hooves and pulled a bit with the next contraction. In a few seconds he slipped out, and was greeted enthusiastically by his mother and grandmother. Meanwhile, his older brother was nursing with vigor.

And just like that FairWind's has two new little souls to embrace. Bliss is a wonderful and attentive mother, and Spirit is being patient and sweet with the kids.

For a little while I sat with the goats on an overturned bucket in the Cozy. It was raining, and the sound on the metal roof was lovely. Inside it was clean and comfortable, with the kids and their mother carrying on a sweet and constant conversation. There was a discernable air of peace and contentment.

Welcome to the world, kids. May your time here be sweet.

Oh, Sarah...

Sunday morning I thought I noticed Sarah donkey limping. I had a long list of things to do to get ready for the bridal shower we were hosting that day, so I filed the information away in my brain and went about my tasks.  That afternoon, when all the guests had gone, I went outside and watched the animals. Sarah's limp was far worse.  I sent my marvelous veterinarian a text message, and she told me to keep her posted. I gave Sarah a dose of pain killer to make her more comfortable, and then did a good bit of fretting. The leg she was favoring was not  one of the two  that we had already been treating for hoof woes.  This morning she was still limping, and I sent my vet a little video of her.  She texted back that she could come on over, and I was delighted. She is very busy this time of year, and it was a happy surprise that she could come out so quickly.

Once here she palpated Sarah's leg, and then took some tools and started testing her hoof.  The tool on the ground in the above picture was used to pinch her hoof in various places. Mostly Sarah didn't care, but then something hurt, a lot, and this gentle, patient donkey reared right up, waving her feet in the air in protest.  "Abscess," the vet said.  "I'd bet on it."  She took other tools and cut away at the hoof, trying to find the pus pocket, to no avail.  She gave me instructions on how to treat it.  Then we led Sarah into the shed and the vet took her boots off, one at a time, to see how the hooves we are already treating were doing. She squirted drying medication on the front one, slipped a clean, dry sock on it, and replaced the boot.  Then she checked the back hoof.  "Ew." She said.  "This is bad," she said.  My heart fell. I have been following her instructions to the letter, and the farrier thought things were going well.  "It's just so wet out, her feet are soaked." She kindly added, "I am not upset with you at all, it's just this mud. Her feet are a train wreck, they are awful. We'll get them fixed, but it's going to take time."  My heart lifted when she added, "Getting this donkey was a very bad thing for you, but it was a very best thing that could have happened to her. Anyone else would have put her down by now."

Meanwhile, sweet, patient, Sarah stood stock still.

When the vet left, I headed to the store to buy supplies to treat Sarah's sore foot.  Then, this afternoon, I soaked her hoof in very warm water with Epsom salts for 20 minutes.  I brushed her while she soaked, and as long as I did she stood completely still. The yellow boot on her front right leg is the soaking boot.

Abraham fretted and worried while I worked on her, he stayed very close.

I brushed him, too. He adores being brushed. This time of year they are losing their long, thick, fuzzy winter coat, and I imagine it is an itchy process.

After a 20 minute soak, I applied the special poultice to the bottom of Sarah's hoof, then wrapped that on with a nice, hot pink, wrap. Next I topped the whole mess off with a special boot.  Now three of her four feet are being treated for ailments.  Poor little donkey.

I think she'd be happier if she had hot pink boots. These black ones are boring.

While I was out messing with animals, I invited the very pregnant Bliss (red bandana) into the yard.  I caught this picture of her yesterday.  She found a place in the pasture where the hens had dug an impression in the earth for dust baths. Bliss placed her extended abdomen into the depression, and had a long, happy-looking, rest there.

Snack lured, I fastened her into the milking stand. While she ate I shaved the underside of her tail and her udder. It's not the neatest job, but she was not totally cooperative. In fact, she was not cooperative at all!  This will make cleaning up after birth much easier. I found a bit of mucus while I worked, and the ligaments over her tail are very loose. Birth is imminent.

I can hardly wait. Having a new kid (or more!) will be such fun.

Bridal shower...

One of the first friends that Rachel made when she started high school is getting married in June. Rachel will be her matron of honor. Yesterday we had the pleasure of hosting a shower for beautiful Addie.

Recently earning her Masters Degree, Addie is a naturalist living in Nebraska.  She was  home for a few days, and we were delighted to be able to spend a little time with her, and meet some of her friends and family. Since she works with birds, we wove birds and feathers into the theme of the day.

A sweet little white bird house served as a guest book. 

 And to give people something to do there were more bird houses to decorate with paint.

Rachel made delicious Rice Crispy bird nests, (and lots of other delicious snacks!)



The cake had a few feathers decorating it.

 



The house reverberated with chatter and laughter. One of my favorite sounds.

Each guest could choose a special glass to sip punch from, and take it home with them as a memento.

 Deviled eggs, of course!

The bride-to-be received some thoughtful gifts.

It was a special day, and I was so glad to be a part of it.

Sweet Sanibel...

The last portion of our trip brought us to Sanibel Island. Our hotel was on a pristinely beautiful beach. Due to the ocean currents, Sanibel is known for having an abundance of excellent sea shells. With my feet in the sand, and warm waves rippling around my ankles, I was transported back in time. Muscle memory kicked in, and soon I was walking while staring for my favorite shells... augers, turkey wings, periwinkles, whelks. The names came back to me, and my eyes began to pick out the familiar shapes.  I was doing the "Sanibel Stoop," step, bend, scoop. The shadow the sun cast of me had the same wild hair blowing in the wind, but it's shape had changed from those years long ago when I first loved a beach like this. Still, I realized, the same spirit remained. The joy of hearing the splashing surf, smelling the warm salt air, and feeling the sun on my skin was as fresh and welcome as it had been in my sweet younger years, when I spent hours seeking shells and chasing my shadow on a beach very similar to this one.

When I was 11 or 12, my parents began spending a few weeks, and then a few months in the winter, on Longboat Key, near Sarasota. My first airplane ride was to meet them there, and every winter until I was 30 I spent precious time with them in Florida. My father particularly loved his time there.  On this trip, I began to understand a bit more why. A WWII veteran, he had worked diligently his entire life to support his family. While his efforts were fruitful, and we never wanted for anything, in many ways his life was hard and rather cold. The contrast of the soft warmth of Florida must have felt like a kindness to him. It certainly was a gift to me, the youngest by 7 years, to have time with them on that idyllic beach each year. 

And here I was with my beloved husband experiencing it all again. He joined me in shell seeking, got up to watch the sun rise with me, delighted beside me to see the pelicans swoop and dive. We held hands, swam and splashed in the warm water and it was all incredibly good. There is certain rhythm we often achieve when it is just the two of us together; so compatible and easy. After a week where we spent so much time together that our Fitbit's registered the exact same number of steps at the end of the day, we were relaxed, refreshed, contented.

The only curse of an excellent marriage is that one partner dies, the other is left feeling incomplete while they live out the rest of their days. I have worried since the time we wed about the inescapable truth that one day I might have to live without my soulmate at my side. There in the clear water of the gulf, feeling completely happy, it occurred to me, that though that day will eventually come, whichever one of us is left behind will be alright if we can just hold on to all the millions of moments that we had where we were as blissfully happy as we were right then. That will be the challenge to tide us over for the remaining days.

Birds...

Note: This post is directly linked to the one before it, so you may wish to go there first to keep things in chronological order.

Our eco tours in Florida were a treasure trove of bird sightings. I am not what one would call a "bird watcher," but I do love wildlife, and feathered things. We saw some rare birds on our trip, each one thrilled me.  There were American Oyster Catchers, our tour guide was elated to see them.

At a tantalizing distance we caught a glimpse of Roseate Spoonbills, large, pink shore birds with long beaks, outfitted with a round tip for sifting through silt for tasty wee crustaceans.  They were too far away to get a decent shot, but here is a hint of their lovely color.

 

 

Endlessly moving was the unusual Purple Gallinule. These birds are about the size of a quail, with long legs and the most enormous yellow feet. They are able to walk right over the tops of lily pads, and have brilliant feathers that almost glow in the sun.

 

 

We saw white Ibis, and the more unusual Glossy Ibis, a big flock of them, winging overhead.
Massive white pelicans dwarfed their brown cousin.

 

When I was a child I read about birds called Anhinga's. Their feathers lack oil that repels water, so when the birds dive into the drink to catch their prey, the gravity of their soaked feathers helps weigh them down and keep them under water. Then they spread their wings to dry. I had seen them many years ago, and was excited to have the opportunity to photograph them.

 

Black vultures were everywhere we looked, smaller than Turkey vultures, with such fascinating faces. 







 Brown Pelicans were abundant. Watching them glide through the air, then dive headlong into the water never ceases to delight me. This one was resting on a piling, and let me approach closely to capture this shot.



 Great Blue Herons were plentiful, standing still at waters edge, waiting for fish to swim past their reed-like legs.

I saw my first Yellow Crowned Night Heron, too.

 

 

And finally, there was this Great Egret, just outside our room on Islamorada. It was walking among the landscape plants, doing an odd dance. It would crouch low, then slowly rise. Stretch it's neck, then bob its head back and forth, up and down. I was mesmerized. 

 







Then in a blink, it stabbed its head deep into the center of a plant, and came up, triumphant, clutching a little lizard.

 

Dance, stab, swallow, repeat. And I was there to see it all.

Far from the familiar Chickadees, Juncos and Cardinals of home, I was in my element trying to catch the images of the lovely birds we found in Florida.