Fires and firey sunsets

It's still so dry here.  We had a couple of turnouts east of us in Wandoo country, and they were rather fraught at first, with fire on both sides of the roads and helitacs dropping water very close to us.  Of course you can't take time to get photos when it's all happening, but I did get this one as we were returning from a water run to fill up the truck.

Andy got a few good ones of the 2nd fire when it settled down.  This is me out in a paddock, using a monitor to put out burning cow pats and wet down the edge of the fire on case of flare ups later.  You can see why people use the cow pats for fires in wood free areas.  The little buggers just keep smoldering!

Here's the traditional selfie by Andy!

There was a lot less slog in the black stuff than we usually get, just a bit at the end.  I came home from the 2nd fire positively spritely and almost clean, though it's hard to see from this pic how that could have happened!

We also took the new caravan out for a trial run weekend.  We went a little under 3 hours up the coast, to a town called Cervantes.  It has a beautiful bay.

I loved these birdy footprints in the sand.  

The sunsets were stunning.

We also went to check out the Pinnacles, which are stone left behind by an ancient forest.  They had really interesting energy.  Kind of treelike and yet stonelike, which I guess makes sense.

 
John Grey, if you are reading this, this pic is especially for you!

The caravan performed well and I wasn't affected by sleeping in it, so that is good news, but we were buggered by the time we came home, so we've pulled out of plans to drive over east to South Australia.  It's 2700km one way, and we'd need to do the drive in four days.   Um, nope!  Maybe one day we'll do it when we don't have a time limit.

Instead, I've booked last minute plane tickets (or in fact darling Michelle who should be a travel agent has!) and Roo will hold the fort here (and happily read books) while I once more gad off to play with other Druids.  Weeeeee!

Here I am communing with the local King Jarrah with one of my Druid friends, who came to visit on Sunday. It is so nice to be with people who see the world as I do.

In the world of chicken, things are going on as usual.  Guinevere has two chicks left of the original four day-olds I bought her.  The third chick was a lot smaller than the two that are left, and over the weekend she injured her leg somehow.  It was not repairable and she was in pain, so I had to send her to chicken heaven.  It was sad, but that is life with chickens. She had a good life while it lasted, and at six weeks, she was only a week or so younger than meat birds are when they kill them, believe it or not!   

Here she is, tucked very close to mama, while they all dust bathed last week before the accident (whatever that was.)

I love how Pongo has his legs in the air!  Yes, it is a he, and the remaining spangled girl is a girl, thank goodness, who I have boringly called Ham for now.  Pongo is some sort of throwback, and has a few black feathers and some brown feathers on the back of his head.  Odd.  He looks rather Dalmatian-y, hence the name!

Hamburgs are supposed to be a bit flighty, but so far these babies have been particularly tame for hen-raised birds.

I can pick them up, push them gently out of the way, and they don't turn a feather.  Guinevere is very friendly so that probably helps.  That and the mealworms!

Frankendotte the rooster is now crowing and chasing the ladies, and as expected, just like his dad he has no manners, so unless he goes to a new home this week, he'll be in the pot.  Poor Nanny Ogg's feathers have only just grown back from before Elvis went to rooster heaven.  He's handsome though!

Behind him is one of my two Coronation Sussex girls.  They are such a laugh! That is Mofo. When she needs to lay an egg, she runs around trying to find the very best hidey spot and ends by laying anywhere she ends up when it is too late. She has yet to lay an egg in the nesting box!

This is what waits for me at chicken bedtime.

Looks like a scene from The Birds!    

Rosie turned eleven.  I can't believe my baby is eleven.  Dear sweet Rosie. I have no idea how you had such a feisty daughter, who by the way bit our lovely postman this week when he came in the gate to give us a parcel.  I'm so sorry Martin!

Tuppence is a handful, no doubt about it.  I'm not sure why she bit him when she's met him many times before and been ok.  She just has a loose wire in that ordinary lab-looking head of hers and sometimes it goes spoing!

Now I have to find some way to keep her from the driveway when we are out of the yard that attache sot our cottage, and on a rural acreage that is going to be tricky unless I just never let her accompany me about the property.  Ah well, in the meantime, there is my sweet Rosie to comfort me.  Can't you talk to Tuppy, Rosie and tel her to pull her fool head in?    

Hey, I never wanted kids in the first place. She's your problem.

 
Cyrano is wasting away to a baby elephant, as older family members used to say.

He is definitely getting around more easily.  He might argue that that is no compensation for a full food bowl, but we'd run out of types of medication to add for him, so it was diet or curtains, and I want my boy around for a little longer yet!               

         


   

The Survivor Chicken.

This is Spotty.  This time last year she was raising a clutch of Wyandotte chicks for me.

      
She is the only one of my three red chooks who survived a recent fox attack.  The fox got away with nothing, because it broke the necks of my other two red girls, then tried to drag Spotty away, but my dogs scared it off. (Go Rosie and Tuppy!)

It's one of those events that a chicken owner hopes they never experience.  It was my own fault. I'd dragged a slab out from under the gate in my recent renovations and hadn't put it back, and mr or mrs fox dug under the gate.

I had to put down the two hens, my dear tamest Rover, and Fido the talker. In my nightshirt and bare feet within minutes in Fido's case, but in the morning for poor Rover, who I'd thought the fox had taken and only found the next morning, hiding under a piece of tin.

I'm so sorry, Rover, but at least you had a lovely life!  

A lot of chicken owners hate foxes, but I never have. They are doing what they need to do, and it is up to me to make it so that they can't do it here.  After this event, we now have electric fencing to top up our defences.   Cheap hobby?  Ha!

Anyway, it could have been much worse if it wasn't for the dogs, and because both my Wyandotte hens (Spotty's babies from last year) were safely tucked away in their own broody hutches elsewhere.

Guinevere was safely with her one baby, an obvious rooster right from hatching, who is called Frankendotte, or Frank, because his mama was a red hen and his daddy was Elvis the rooster (who was being an ass and is now in a better place).  Frank is actually growing up to be quite pretty in a bit of a muddled way.

Since his daddy grew up to be a dickhead, maybe Frank will too, and in that case he will be off to rooster heaven as well, to a place where all the hens sit down even if you don't bother to dance for them or be nice to them (or to your owner's mother).

Morgana was safely sitting on eggs on the night of the fox, and she too only managed to hatch one chick. The word is that the weather has been too weird this spring.  Her chick looks like a girl (praise be!) and I think is from the single, solitary egg laid by by my old, old, Black Australorp, Nanny Ogg, this whole year.  She is black, with a tiny tipping of white on the wing feathers, but at only two weeks you can't tell yet.  Morgana and her baby stayed safely in a borrowed rabbit hutch until this week, and are now in my new broody hen pen.  Can you call a girl chicken Mordred?  If so, that is her name, or maybe even if you can't.  Has to be, really.

Give me a mealworm but don't you come near my baby!

Old Nanny was right in the back corner and survived, as did bloody Elvis. What happened to putting his life on the line for his girls? 

My other survivors were that trio of ratbags, known as Blue, Powder and Puff, the Sussexes.  Blue is supposed to be a hen but is blatantly not at this point.

I ain't no girl!

The two coronation girls are a delight, so silly and soft.  I'm very glad they were safely in the broody pen at the time.

 So, Spotty was saved by the dogs, left behind by the fox, dazed and bleeding, when she wouldn't fit under the gate. She was injured on the face and neck and I thought she might not make it, but a little rest and care saw her begin to perk up.   Now she is back to true ferocious red chook form, and the other day she went weird on me and did this quite a few times in a row. 

   
I think it was because I moved Morgana and Mordred to the new pen, but who knows with chickens, for the ways of chickens are strange!

In other news... wait, is there anything to life but chickens?  Surely not! 

Not really, it only seems that way some days. All is lovely in the world of the merry bard.  Good friends and laughter, making music, work of the hands and mind, my Druidry to keep me grounded and floating at the same time, and some long-dreamed-of events coming up to enjoy in 2019.  Weeeee!

What do you think?  Fashion for 2019?

I hope you have lovely year, with no literal OR metaphorical fox attacks upon your life.   May 2019 bring you all that is for your greatest good and happiness, whatever that may be.   Blessed be!   
             

Winter Warm

It is hard to believe today, holed up inside while wind and rain beat the trees about outside, that yesterday sister Jen and I went to the beach.

We took Jen's two 'Yellows' as she calls them, Kelly and Pippa, and my Rosie.

 Poor Tuppy had to stay home with Daddy and her brother, Angus, because I didn't think it was fair either to her or the masses of dogs that go to the beach to take her along and let her brains get fried.  Some dogs, just like some people, don't do well in crowded social situations.

It was a wise choice, because as a result I was able to relax and enjoy the company of my very special and gentle ten year old girl, who got to be my only dog for the morning.

    
This cute and amazingly-marked dog was just one of the squintillion pooches we passed on our walk.

Blue eyes too!  Did you ever?

I love winter.  Stormy beaches.  Slanting light.  Bonfires...

Amazing dawns...

Those were taken from nearly the same place on two separate days.  Mind bogglingly inspiring!

And rainbows too.

The chickens are enjoying the green grass, guarded over by an almost fully mature Elvis.

In other news, I've been savaging this cheap new violin case to carry my lyre, because I am off east to go to the 17th OBOD Australian Assembly.

It has been kind of fun to hack apart something new.  :D  Let's hope I can get it back together!

At the Assembly, I am hopefully getting to be initiated into the Druid level, so it is very exciting for me!  I think it is been 13 years of study so far, through the Bardic and then Ovate grades, and now I begin the next stage of my journey.  Also, I get to meet heaps of lovely fellow Druidy people, some of whom I have been friends with online for years but never met IRL before!  Yay!

The live story readings are still going well and am now up to the fifth chapter.  I've made a playlist on youtube, so if you want to get the whole story in one place, here it is, or will be when I finish it.  There are maybe two more sessions to go, unless I decide to belt the story out all the way to the end next Sunday!  Beware, is not safe for work and contains some naughtiness and swearing.

Last week I finally took myself off to join in with a local ukulele group.  OMG, so much fun!  Do it!

And with all this winter busyness, what has Mr Kitty been doing, I hear you ask?  Did you really need to?  :D

See you next time I feel bloggy!

Chickeny Love

The problem with getting behind on your blog is do you catch up or just start where you are?  The thought of catching up is enough to stop me posting, so starting where I am is the go!

The baby chickens are nearly all grown up now.  Two of the three roosters went to new homes last weekend.   They were good boys on the trip.  I am fond of them but you can't have three roosters in one flock, for reasons of economy even if they do get on, so they had to go.  Hopefully they will have a good life with their own wives in their new places.

Pellinore is the one who stayed. He was the biggest chick and had a little white on his face. He's growing up to be a very nice type of Wyandotte as far as I can tell.  And he's pretty sure he's all that!

He's no gentle, slightly-confused King Pellinore though, so his name has changed to Elvis.  He's flashy and showy and the way he looks past that comb that looks like a coifed hairdo, well, it was probably inevitable he end up an Elvis!

Here he is sunbaking on his feet, looking very flashdance.

I love how they spread a wing to catch the sun.  Here is one of the girls doing it.  I have no idea what to call the two girls now!  Can I have an Elvis, a Guinevere and a Morgana?  :D

In other news, I've been writing some fans from my Facebook author page into a Freya Fjordrider Sword & Sorcery story, and now I'm reading it live on Facebook video as I go.  It's actually a lot of fun and people seem to really love it.  The fast-paced, language-fun Freya stories are probably ideal for this sort of storytelling lark.     

 

 Walking continues.  Here we are about to try a new trail in the bush.

Life with Mr Kitty continues.

And for Andrew, life with bonkers me continues, bless him!  :D 

I'm Bad...

Yep more blogging absence.  I've been so busy doing cool stuff, is my excuse, and I figure it's a good one. Only thing is, that means you don't get to see my cool stuff happening!

Ok, so this is my very cool kolrosing experiment...

Rubbing raw cacao into the carved lines of the design. 

After that, I burnished the lines back into timber with fine wet and dry.  It's amazing how it goes back to smooth wood and you can't feel the cuts any more, but the lines are still there as colour.

Not to impressive to look at yet, though...

Then, the moment of truth... Olive oil!

The first trepidatious pass.  Will it work?  Will it look good?

Yes is the answer!  Weeee!  I love it!

I'll get you a better photo for next time. this one was taken outside while it was still wet with oil.

The design for this lyre was taken from it's name: Fréowine, meaning 'noble friend' or 'wine friend' (someone you would go drinking with.)  I made a border of bees to represent the mead that the Anglo-Saxons loved to drink, and made a design of Odin's ravens, Huginn and Muninn knocking drinking horns for the central image.

The kolrosing looks quite delicate and decorative.  Every bee was drawn freehand, so they all have their own character, and the two ravens look like they are having a lot of fun. I love it!

I am still working on the tailpieces and bridges for both new lyres, plus a new tailpiece for Mondream, my original lyre. I am hand-sanding them so it takes a bit longer but I love the meditative state of hand-working wood.  There's no hurry. 

Other cool stuff? I have finished my non-fiction book on how to write first drafts of novels, the same way I do.  It is called "Wild Noveling: The First Draft."  I wrote it to be amusing and light and yet useful.  My very earliest report back from a first reader is that they loved it!  Yay!  More on that soon.

This morning we heard our very first rusty crow from our three baby roosters.  It was King Pellinore who first crowed, of course. He is half again the size of the other two.  He's a nice guy though... So far!  I hope he stays that way because he would be handful if he turns agro. He is huge!

I'll try to get you a pic for next time. In the meantime, here is Morgana the more adventurous little hen.  She's shaping up very nicely.
 

       
 The virginia creeper has been putting on its marvellous autumn show for us again.

I think this one below is my all time fave pic of it, and it also sums up how warm and cosy the cottage feels, when you approach it form the paddock on a winter's evening.

There have been some warm days, though, warm enough for picnics.

With amazing skies.

And there is still time to enjoy the extra air and space provided by our new screen door!  Yay!  The building of the verandah was aimed for this moment, and now it is here!

 
Next comes raising, levelling and paving the entry area. It never ends, does it!

 Mr Kitty would prefer that I did more sitting and crocheting. 

Sis Jen and I posted each other matching pics of cats on laps last night.  Funny!  You can tell the cooler weather is here!

Enjoy your changing season, and I'll talk to you again soon.