Fixed Points
Perhaps "Fixed Points" would be a less controversial word than the N-word for the psychotic need to have some clues on what to expect when the crew of this little ship of fools lifts their heads from their pillows in the morning. The problem with allowing such strictly personals to fall into committee reviews is that committees are proof that none of us is as stupid as all of us. Do I really care what is N-word for any of the committtee members?
Setting ^that^ aside for editorial review and getting back to my own strictly personals. . .
Hubby's Corona convo with the other grandfather did help settle the visitation into a fixed point for today. By last night's plan, the hand-over should happen early afternoon. These people remain virtual strangers to me, but their fashionably late punctuality was already a well-established norm when my son's wife was still that painfully shy HS student. The fact that she couldnae count on them for anything gentler than a hard time was a huge part of why she was so painfully shy. She had been harshly trained to "Keep your trap shut," etc. Healing hopes for all. No exceptions.
Whatever the hour of the exchange, it feels fairly certain that tonight I willnae be tucking anybody but myself and my feather babies in to bed. Perhaps Hubby and Persilly, too, but even the most mutually respected of collaboraters need occasional breaks from one another. We see what grows.
Processing. . . Again I leave the mood icon on the rapid cycling median. K.I.S.S. K.I.S.S. Keep ^It^ Simple, Shithead.
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Even Big Bro has joined the bandwagon on how much I am supposed to be looking forward to a week without kids in the house. The wisdom surprised me a bit from his 6 year old lips, but only a bit. Most children are young, nay deef nor stupid. Even deef and stupid children notice the world around them. Still, I was too surprised he had arrived to this level so soon for a pat comeback. I'm kinda hoping he asks again. I believe I may have an honest answer for him now.
I'm kinda scared of how this house will look without you guys in it. For me, alone, it makes no sense, whatsoever. I'd still rather be Chief Paducah, River Pirate, at your service. I burn gilded cages just for the fun of watching them burn and river bank remediation. . .
Might be better if he doesnae ask again any time soon? ? ? Still letting God lead the dance.
Sending peace Arfie. Maybe do something calming today like take a walk around the perimeter of your property with hubs or wherever your heart and mind take you. Maybe do a YouTube yoga. Just thoughts, whatever you do you have us who are sending good wishes.
Still waiting. . . I does believe waiting anxiety is the meanest anxiety in my personal psycho norm.
My feather babies have been sorely neglected during all this human drama. While I have been busy with the people buzz, my flock has been suffering predator attacks and is currently down to four poults from the colorful egg brood I started in November. I am discouraged to the point of letting the feathered yaddah blahs float down the proverbial drain with my river dreams.
Still. . . Been visualizing brood pen designs which would build on the fragile perch which has kept those four poults alive through all this chaotic neglect. Dunno if I have the courage to risk more feather baby lives in the current storms, but. . . It niggles. . .
I agree that “waiting anxiety” is one of the “meanest”. It’s always sent me into a tailspin.
Hugs and support, Arfie. Maybe some attention to the feather babies can soothe the anxiety.
There be nay a doubt the feather babies can soothe the anxiety. Birds are among the few lifeforms on the planet that are even more hyper-vigilant than I am. It is a real confidence booster to be the calmest lifeform in the room.
My doubts be in the scheduling conflicts and the high price the feather babies pay for the busy buzz neglect.. I have lost close to 30 birds, mostly to predators, since the start of this storm season in June 2019. It hurts them even more than it hurts me.
Arfie I hope it all works out ok.
I remember reading that you can buy self closing doors on a timer for poultry sheds. I can’t remember much else cause it was a few years ago but I do remember coveting one. Most attacks on poultry are at night as you would know.
Yea, I've eyeballed those automated door closers. They might, indeed, be worth the investment. I'll look into it between the school meeting, swim lessons and diaper changes. . . There have been one or three of those night attacks which I attribute to neighborhood dogs. Maybe even a coyote or three. Bull snake season is quickly approaching. Another local night bully. But allot of the flock has disappeared during daylight hours. A sign of airborne attack.
Perhaps one of my more bizarre feather fantasies is The Red Hawk Cafe. North America's birds of prey are in serious trouble, including our National Bird, the Bald Eagle. The Red Hawk Cafe is a dream of giving them a helping hand by breeding rabbits, chickens and the like for their dining pleasure. In my dream, the prey habitats are scattered around for a micro attempt at imitating a balanced ecosystem.
There is a new flock of hawks in the neighborhood. I have yet to identify their breed, but they are quite breathtaking in their flights and big enough to carry off an adult chicken. I am mildly consoled by the possibility that they are the daytime perps, but. . . Golly gee, folks. . . Let me get the kitchen up and running before you give me the bum's rush.
I incubated and hatched a duckling and some chicks. I grew up in the city but we had a small backyard where we kept them. All I can guess is that a neighbor’s cat or a raccoon got to them one night as when I went out there in the morning there was a field of carnage on the grass. It was sad. Those babies I thought would be safe.. they had no defenses, even in their cage.
Also my mom had chicks when she lived in NYC as a child. She kept them on her family’s fire escape until eventually they grew and so she gave them to a family friend who had a place in the country. She saw the family friend a while later and she asked “How are the chickens?” The response was “They were delicious!!” :(
I suppose you know all the stuff about digging out the hen house floor and lining it with chicken wire to keep out snakes and digging predators. Also chicken wire roofs on the outside run and a chicken wire skirt around the base. I had to do that living in the Northern Territory. No one could believe we kept chicken there.
I think you have a lot on your plate now with the 3 angels you care for though, and if you decided to do that you’d probably have to pay someone to do it for you. To me it might be an investment for food security for the future with the times a changing.
Sorry to focus so much on the chooks, I’m clueless for what else you’re going through with the kids and in-laws. I have nothing to offer but empathy there.
I wish I was still living somewhere I could have chooks and a garden for the hard times ahead.
Fact is, Mark, the natural chicken lifespan is 2 to 4 years. Their end of days is harsh. Somewhere around 3 years old, they start acting like they believe they become what eats them and begin approaching me with attitudes that ask, "Hey, ain't ya hungry? I want to be a slice of your life. Don't let me get pecked to death by the flock." Whether I am translating accurately or not, if your mother's "while" was more than a year, they would have been delicious to something by then. There sure are allot of things in Nature that love a good chicken dinner.
The chooks were a major bonding spot with the 3 angels since there was only one angel. All three of them love Gammy's feather babies and have for their entire lives. I have no ethical quandary with contributing to the natural balance between predators and prey -- after I establish enough prey population to handle the client base among our starving birds of prey. In my feather dreams, that is even a long-term goal. I'm a natural predator who understands the need to eat, even after denied the prospect of a comfy home.
The current problem came in with the move to the new house. The chicken coop is situated to be convenient to the old house. That is 1/10 mile from the new house. Convenient enough for me, alone, but a rather uncomfortable distance to fit into bedtime demands for 3 young children. I haven't been close enough to initialize manual predator guards in the evening and have been too exhausted to remember, much less execute the simple chore of closing doors, etc., on the coop or even the repurposed rabbit hutch in which I brooded the last attempt at a flock increase outside the back door of the new house.
I do have the thatch laid to begin the process of building, complete with the predator guards you mentioned, a second coop nearer to the new house. We see what grows. I'm too stubborn to hire out that particular job. If ya wants a job done right, DIY. If I can't find the time to do that job, I ain't got the time to raise the babies proper, either.