Old-Fashioned Weathervanes

Roosters.

The original Weathervane!

They answer all question weather related. 

Is it windy?  Yes. Just look at their tails blowing. 

How windy? Tail blowing backwards windy. 

Is it raining? Yes. 

How do you know? Roosters are inside the coop by choice with their beaks pressed unto the rain drizzled window. 

Is it warm? Looks like the roosters are dust bathing and spreading out their wings, so yes!

Is it cold? Roosters are hunkered down. 

How cold? When they are roosting with their heads tucked underneath a hens feathers, it's likely frostbite weather!!

Today looks like high winds!!

The need to hear a heartbeat

Sometimes, life is filled with unknowns. Scary unknowns. Uncertainties that overwhelm or seem larger than life.
I held one of my pheasant hens yesterday as she needed some care for a gashed thigh (thanks to an ungentlemanly proposal). She thrashed violently, clawing and scratching and flapping her way to her imagined freedom and safety. But I was her safety. I was providing the care she needed. I wrapped her inside my coat, next to my heart and pressed her close. I told her it was only her own imagination she was afraid of. She was stilled and soothed.
Today, I have two little chicks snuggled next to my heart. Their surrogate mother was needing to return to her coop and abandoned them after theee weeks of brooding and three weeks of mothering. Stellar performance at both, but her egg duties were calling for her return. As these chicks cried at her departure, and were concerned with my unknown hand scooping them up, they were stilled and soothed hearing my heartbeat.
Also today, I myself was faced with the fear of the unknown. The need to hear a heartbeat of comfort holding me close. I reached out to a friend and heard her heartbeat. And through her, I could hear the heartbeat of God.
'But as for me, the nearness of God is my good' Psalm 73:28

Holding the door

He was waiting outside on a cold windy day. I had to unlock the door. He waited pleasantly while I found the key, twirled the latch round to the unlock position, let him enter and then relock the door behind him.

Meanwhile, he held the second entry door open for me, the same patient smile on his face.

I was stunned. My heart felt nourished and cared for.

It is sometimes the smallest gesture that conveys so much. No bravado. No indebtedness. Just genuine, old fashioned, 'ladies first', selfless gifts of kindness.

I shall bottle that memory and apply lavishly, perhaps as soon as tomorrow, when the world crowds in their unkindness.

Defining Love in the 21st Century

LOVE

Without Sacrifice

Is either giving,

Or sharing,

But almost always 

Is Self-Promotion

Misplaced Motherhood

As a young girl, my only ambition was to be a good wife and mother. Neither blessing has befallen me, though I have cared for many families by showing value for their marriage and loving their children.

Over the past few very busy years, I have added elements of farming to my life: gardens, rabbits, quail, chickens, turkeys, pheasants, and of course Claire as her role of guardian/nanny. Even Lucia, the ever so darling cat is part of the farm life in her dainty way.

Motherhood is likely to elude me (for starters I am missing all the precursors such as meeting the gentleman whose heart and soul captures yours) but I felt a different fulfillment this evening as I watched various critters or critter and exchanges.

-one of my Salmon Faverolles had collected all the ladies eggs, for the third day in a row, and was sitting hunkered down like a fluffy Abrams tank, ready to do battle against any intruders. She made her strike when I started to remove the eggs from underneath her. She was so astonished that she dug around in the shavings while remaining hunkered and defensive. I seized the opportunity to run inside and grab the turkey eggs I have been collecting for just such a broody mama. When placed in front of her, she stared without moving, then quickly and in one motion walked up over them and scooped them back into her divot. Motherhood.
-While feeding the different enclosures a bedtime snack to get them through the bitter cold night, I observed my Black Spanish tom and dominant rooster Magnum Opus standing side by side in all their splendor and pomp, yet not an inkling of rivalry. They had enough respect for the each other's role within their shared space of Black Spanish turkeys and Magnum Opus' premier laying flock. It was a teary moment to realize that they have never had to fight or engage in a power struggle, and as such, their ladies were well taken care of. Me, while mothering the fine fellows, allowed them confidence to be securely at their best. Motherhood.
-my blind and very old rabbit, Poppy, has been the mainstay in my flocks for years. Every season he is right in the middle of the babies. They look up to him, adore him, are calmed by his stable presence. They sleep beside him, pick food bits from his fur, and are curious about his eating habits. This is Poppy's second batch of chicks this year. Fifty little meaties milling about. This is the first time they have tucked underneath like they would tuck under a hen. Looking for Motherhood.
-Claire dotes and nuzzles on the critters, sniffs out anyone that might be a little hunkered and cold. The turkey poults especially are enamoured with her and run after her, always needing to be near her. If she lays down, they follow. If she sniffs the ground, they come running to check what she found. Motherhood.

Although I don't have my own children and although my hands are now busied with raising food for myself and others, I see glimpses of motherhood being fulfilled around me every day, and I am delighted!

True Motherhood is a beautiful thing!

A Spendid Winter's Afternoon

This has been a memorable week, filled to the brim with life's joys, sorrows, hardships, and surprises. I wasn't sure I could bear some of the moments, but was grateful for the reprieve or distraction of other moments to displace the burden.

Today I enjoyed a spot in front of the window, with golden winter light piercing the negative temperatures. With book in hand and two baby pheasants needing a little quiet time, I picked up where the bookmark marked several chapters in.

It's a good book. Not one that I would normally delay finishing, but life has bestowed different lessons to learn recently, than that written under the title of Pilgrim's Call, by A.L.O.E. (A Lady Of England).

It's a fictional story with ties and references to the great classic Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan.

This passage in particular is something that resonated with me. It's something that I have experienced from others and been guilty of myself these past few weeks especially. It's something that I wanted to warn others of, but instead prayed that I would heed the words myself.

Let me provide the passage:

     'Judge not, that you be not judged,' said the clergyman, impressively. 'There is nothing so little becoming a young pilgrim as passing unkind judgement on his elders.'

     'I'm afraid that it's my besetting sin,' said Charles, 'and one that is very difficult to get rid of.'

     'Like many others, I believe that it springs from pride,' observed his tutor. 'When we are deeply sensible of our own imperfections, we have more mercy to show, or less attention to give to those of our neighbours and companions.'

Amen and Amen. God grant that it be so.

1(+15)+P+23.5-3=12+1!!

One hen
+15 pheasant eggs
Add patience plus 23.5 days of brooding
Resulting in twelve pheasants being mothered by a Salmon Faverolles hen.

Sienna hatched twelve beautiful pheasants, leaving three random eggs that were undeveloped.

The little phizzers have been exceedingly sweet, mellow and entertaining to watch! A truly rewarding experience!