we have geese!

Yesterday we welcomed 3 new members to our Wind Dancer family.

Three gorgeous geese.

I’m in love with them.

And I never wanted geese.

This is the story: Wayne has always loved geese. I finally gave in and started to consider it. Then I spent about a month online looking for some geese for him.

In the beginning all I found were exotic geese. I didn’t want them. I wanted the plain ones like I’ve seen for years. White. Big. Gorgeous.

I found a guy who had sold all his goslings but had some 1-1.5 year olds he was happy to sell. One female and 5 males. I claimed the female and one male.

When we got there yesterday he offered us another male for free because he just had too many of them. We accepted.

You know us. We have no spine when it comes to animals…

So now we have 3 gorgeous geese who refuse to talk to us.

I’d have taken photos of them but they’re sulking and I don’t want to make them hate me more than they already do by forcing my company on them.

I don’t blame them mind you. We lobbed up at their place yesterday where they’d been minding their own business, weren’t even properly introduced  before we grabbed them, manhandled them into cages in the back of a noisy truck, on the hottest day of the year, driven all over the countryside, then plonked them in a small enclosure (the one we call Alcatraz which had been used for the roosters before) and then had the nerve to try and make friends with them.

They’re not happy.

They haven’t come out of the little shed since we got them.

They just huddle together and glare at us…

Sigh.

I want to make friends!

I already named one of the boys. His name is Henry. He looked like a Henry. He has one slightly squinty eye so you can tell which one he is.

I never realised, but the boys have orange rims around their eyes and their eyes are blue.

I absolutely love our geese. I hope they learn to love us back and love living here.

z

life, death, dam!

 

Yesterday morning we had a rude awakening.

Its not like we didn’t KNOW Kevin was coming over with his diggy-diggy to do our driveway and fix the dam… its that I was so wiped out I’d been in bed since 7.30pm the night before (I should  say afternoon before) and Wayne was living in denial or something. He’d woken up, got a coffee and come back to bed with a book.

When the truck arrived the dogs went bezerk. I was up, running around trying to put some clothes on, get to the door, keep the dogs in all at once.

Of course the dogs hadn’t been out to pee cause that’s my job in the morning… so they needed to go out and pee and not eat Kevin before he did our job for us.

So here I am, running around pulling on track pants with one hand, boots with another, breasts bouncing cause who has time to pull on a bra at a time like this, with dogs frothing at the mouth around me, barking at the machine wielding murderer who’d obviously come to massacre us as we slept.

I rounded the dogs up, heading them out into the paddock where I thought I’d release them so Kevin would be safe for a while, get to the gate and what do I see???

Three tiny ducklings in a little pile right outside the gate.

SH#$*#^#T!

Can’t let the dogs out. Those tiny things are like squeaky toys to them!

I go out the gate, grab the ducklings, yelling “WAYNE!!!! WE HAVE DUCKLINGS!!! I NEED YOU! HURRY UP!”

I mean, this is the end of the world.

I have a handful of tiny ducklings.

Again…. its not like we didn’t KNOW they were coming. We just thought we had another week or so.

And yet, this last week I came home one day and saw crows hanging around. One had something in its mouth. I knew we had ducklings…

Wayne and I had discussed this whole plan in detail.

We were going to get out into the area around the dam before Kevin came over. We were going to remove the electric fence which used to protect the willows I’d put in there (which we moved a few weeks ago and which seem to be doing fine in their new spots thankfully), and search the reeds for duck nests.

I’d already found one with about 10 or more eggs in it. We knew there were more cause we hardly ever saw about 3 of our female ducks… we knew they were sitting on eggs.

The plan had been that Wayne would fix up the old dog pen, line the bottom with bird wire to make it duckling proof, then we’d go out, grab the eggs and mothers and move them into the pen to safety.

Because:

1. Every year we have tons of ducklings and none survive unless we can catch them and lock them up. The crows eat them all. Its heartbreaking.

2. Kevin was going to work around the dam and might squash the nests, eggs, ducks….

Right.

Good plan.

So here we are, yesterday morning, running around like jumping beans on speed. Cause we had a plan!

A mother duck hissing at me with her ducklings under her wing.

First nest was the one I’d found first time around. It had no eggs left, just a few ducklings. About 6 of them I think. I put them in a basket and started fixing up the pen. The mother duck was going crazy. We left the gate open and she eventually came in and sat near the basket. Good. When the pen was finished, we put the basket inside and she followed.

All’s well.

Well. Not all.

One duckling was dead at the bottom of the basket. I don’t know if I killed it when I was catching them and it wriggled and I dropped it… It wasn’t high. But it was dead. sigh.

Later on, I found another one dead. Both the dead ones were fawn coloured…. probably girls.

Then I went out and found another nest. Right next to the first. It had an egg with a hole in it but nothing was happening… dead duckling. Sigh again. 6 unhatched eggs and 8 ducklings. We got all of those, picked up the entire nest, and put it all in the basket.

This mother didn’t seem to care that much. She didn’t come for the ducklings.

Mind you, they were much quieter (younger) than the others. They weren’t squeaking for mom.

Plus the excavator makes a lot of noise. And our neighbour was brushcutting on the other side of the paddock. Even if they were squeaking, she probably wouldn’t have heard them.

I covered them with a blanket to keep them warm.

Then I spotted 2 ducklings, most likely from the first batch, on the dam.

SH#$*#^#T again.

No way I could catch them on the dam. They were on their own.

I hated that.

I saw a magpie flying over…

Anyway, after about 2-3 hours of no success enticing the mother to come after the ducklings, I made an executive decision. These nests were really close to eachother, maybe ducks raise ducklings in a kind of ‘village’ approach.

I put the nest, eggs and ducklings in with the mother duck and her remaining 4.

She sat on the nest and covered all the ducklings.

Success!

I felt so much better.

This morning there were 2 casualties. Wayne found one outside when feeding them, I found another in the nest when mom and babies were out paddling in the playpool. Darn. Down to 10 now.

Still… its better odds than they’d get out in nature.

Mind you. We found another nest. It had eggs and ducklings. Some totally newly hatched. We watched some of them hatch right in front of our eyes. It was amazing. I’d only ever seen something hatch out of an egg on TV before.

I almost feel like these are MY babies…

I so want to save them as well, but we just can’t catch those other two mothers. I think they’re older and wiser. I can’t expect that one mother to hatch and raise all those babies, can I?

Someone said a chicken can raise up to 20 young… dare we try? Or do we let nature take its course and see what happens? Its almost certain death for them if we don’t try.

We don’t need a million ducks on our dam, but it would be nice to raise some more… I figure we’ll probably end up with 6-7 of the current 10 making it to maturity. I hope. Should I grab the rest and up the odds? Or not interfere?

When we moved here we had 12 ducks. We’re down to 7-8 now. Maybe less cause of the mothers on nests I have no idea how many we actually have. If we only raise the ones we’ve captured now and all 10 survive, we’ll have about 16-18 ducks. Surely thats enough for anyone, right?

What am I trying to do? Convince myself that I shouldn’t go out and catch the rest of them?

We have 2 geese coming next week. I’ve always been against geese cause they can be aggressive, but Wayne loves them. I decided a while ago to find him a couple for Christmas. I couldn’t find plain white goslings when I looked, but I found a pair who’s about 18 months old. Probably better. They can have their own young here. Then we’ll have to worry about catching goslings…

Meanwhile, one of the two ducklings on the dam yesterday disappeared. They wouldn’t get out of the water while Kevin was working so it may have been a fatality of the work. This morning the other was gone as well. Maybe it got out and joined the nest. Maybe not.

On another, related note… while looking for duck nests I found a wren nest. Darn. I picked it up and looked inside. Tiny unfeathered babies, alive but seemed asleep. I put the nest back further over cause I knew we’d be disturbing it when we went for the duck again.

I checked it later, they were still alive. Hopefully mom found them and went back to them. I dread looking again… I may be responsible for more deaths.

So, here are the ducks yesterday afternoon (minus the mothers) looking over the dam works.

And here is the dam this morning, finished. The lower side has been reinforced so it won’t leak (hopefully!!!) and we won’t have the swampy problem we’ve always had below it. The top side has been lowered to allow water to flow into it when it rains.

 In theory, any excess water in the dam will now flow out on the other side, into the paddock and away from the house. That fence is the house yard fence. The house is only a few meters from there. That’s how close to the house the dam is…

Meanwhile, Kevin has been working on the driveway.

This is yesterday morning when he’d first started. The plan is to make it so that water running off the hill doesn’t just stream down the driveway, under the house and into the casita. Seriously, whoever designed this place had no brain. The house is at the bottom of a hill and in a valley… all rain runs off under our house, our lawn and down under the casita. We hope that with Kevin’s help we can change things and direct the rain towards a drain, down the side of the driveway, into the drains on the side of the road. And away from the house.

Barney oversees the work being done.

I’ll have more photos and updates after the work is finished.
Its been a very expensive project but one that really needed to be done. I really hope it works.
z

romeo may not live much past four

Yep.

I’m not impressed.

Romeo killed another of our ducks this morning.

See, Wayne has been taking the dogs out for a run in the paddocks every morning when he goes out to feed the chickens and ducks.

Normally the poodles have been really good with the feathered critters. They ignore them as they run around sniffing wildlife trails. They’ll run through a flock of them, scattering them and ignoring all the flapping and squalking…

But one duck, acting differently… well, turns out that was too much for Romeo (‘duck f@$ker’ as Wayne affectionately calls him).

One duck has been nesting in the fallen tree branches in the top paddock. We only noticed it when Romeo chased her out of there a few weeks ago but didn’t think much of it.

Till today that is.

When he not only chased her out but caught her.

Sigh.

And she was sitting on eggs.

Double sigh.

Wayne is up there now disposing of ‘cover’ to avert another such disaster.

We are now down to 8 ducks. Lately only 7 have been turning up for feedings, which means there’s another one nesting somewhere.

Did I mention we’re also down to one chicken and one rooster?

Not due to Romeo, he’s innocent of that much at least.

Since our chickens are free range we don’t always know whats going on number-wise. We had as many as 6 isa browns and 2 black hens at one time. One black hen was killed by *guess who* when she landed in the yard. One red hen was found dead, decapitated. Most likely by a quoll. They do that apparently. I found another dead in the hen house the other day… no injuries that I could see. The others have just disappeared. I know the rooster has been very rough on a couple of the hens, so I’m betting they ran away.

So now we need more chickens.

And I’m thinking I may buy a couple of geese for Wayne.

He loves geese. And geese can hold their own against dogs. That’ll teach Romeo some respect.

sigh.

Life on a farm ain’t all rainbows.

z

a day in the life

Today is Romeo’s birthday.

I’m a bad mother.

If his brother Merlin’s owner hadn’t mentioned it to me, I would have missed it.

Again.

Yesterday I groomed the kids, the poodles anyway. Barney always manages to find ‘important work’ to do on the other side of the property when its time for a clip, bath and blowdry.

Wayne’s not impressed cause this time I left some slight bell bottom bracelets on their legs. I like them like that even if it is higher maintenance than clipping them off all over. But tomorrow the kids are having a visitor. A lady who wants to buy a standard poodle.

I’m like an ambassador for standard poodles in Tasmania. When someone is considering a standard poodle I invite them round to meet my two. If they can survive that, then they know a standard is for them. If they run screaming, well… they might consider a goldfish instead.

Things have been busy around here lately. On the positive side I’ve been on a roll regarding my art lately. Firstly I got a 2nd at the DVRA Art Competition. Then I got 1st Prize at the Salvaged Art Competition, and the project I worked on with some guys at work won 1st Prize in the amateur category. Plus I sold the painting of the quoll from the DVRA comp. I now have either half the price of a trip to Greece, most of the price of a new laptop, or a start towards a new bathroom or kitchen….

Other positives are: The lawn has been mowed. Some plants have been found amongst the weeds. The rain tanks are full. I caught up with the dish washing and the laundry.

On the negative side the dishes keep piling up, another load of washing appeared when I wasn’t looking, the rain tanks are overflowing, I can actually hear the grass growing thanks to the rain we’ve had, I’m sure there is less lawn and more weeds than ever this year, and I was unable to locate some of the plants I put in last year, even once I’d cleared up the weeds around the place they were last spotted.

On Sunday I finally started a project I had planned to do last summer. I hate having birds nest in our roof but I hate the thought of baby birds in nests dying of starvation cause I locked out their parents. So the idea was to put bird wire around the eaves at the end of summer, once the nests were empty.

Of course the end of summer snuck up on me quite suddenly with rain and wind and I put off the wire thing till the weather was better.

Then, this year, spring snuck up on me and suddenly there were birds building nests in the roof again.

Time to try out that new air stapler Wayne got me a few months ago. I already had some bird wire (only 10 metres of it, but that was a blessing in disguise), I had staples, I had the air stapler… I had a friend to help. I had ladders. I was set.

We managed to do the short side of the house plus a bit around the corner. My friend cut the wire, then held it up for me on her ladder. I balanced precariously on my ladder, wielding the staple gun and missing two out of every three shots.

Serioulsy, those staples are SO narrow.

By the time we’d put up 10 metres we were done.

…I mean, we were done. The job wasn’t. I had to get up on the ladder again on Monday and cut and staple bits where the vertical boards on the house left gaps. I had to add a bit of extra wire where I’d totally missed a gap, allowing our feathered friends to still get in an out and continue construction of their mansions in our roof. I also hung up some old cds on string from the wire to further discourage building without permits.

The cds looks kinda ‘redneck’ but I prefer to think of them as a cheap, practical and environmentally friendly way of discouraging birds from squatting in our roof. The downside is they make a lot of noise thumping on the house in the wind. I’ll get used to it. Better than finding our insulation in the driveway, pulled out by birds extending to put in a pool room.

The birds aren’t the only things I’ve evicted this week. Remember Ponsonby, the black possum who moved into the casita? I did love seeing his little pink nose and his tail hanging down as he watched me do stuff in there.

What I didn’t enjoy was the full scale destruction the dogs caused trying to get him. Or the possum poop. Everywhere.

So, we bought a possum trap and trapped him. Then we released him in the bush.

Actually, Wayne released him in the bush.

First he gave me this long lecture about how FAR away I had to release him cause possums come back. Kind of like ‘homing possums’. I was going to take him up the hills opposite our place. About 10-15 klms away.

But Wayne decided he’d do it. And he just drove up our road for about 3 klms and let him go.

If Ponsonby comes back I’ll find it incredibly hard to not do the smugly superior thing…  

I told you so!

Man the weather’s been wierd lately. Strong winds. And rain. Lots of rain. I was woken up last night by rain pelting down and thunder so long and loud the house shook!

Our creek is flowing like Niagara Falls again, and the paddocks have more than one river running through them. Poor Wayne was out there this afternoon with his bucket and spade trying to direct the flow.

Even the ducks are looking water-logged.

z

meet my friends

Anyone that knows me knows I’m passionate about animals, dogs in particular.
Everywhere I go I see dogs that I just must say hello to. I’ll be walking along with one of my cousins, see  a dog and run off calling “Hello gorgeous!”, leaving them standing in confusion… thinking I’ve seen some long lost relative or an ex boyfriend… only to see me running towards a cute dog making kissing sounds.
Other people go goo-goo over babies. I go goo-goo over animals.
Almost every shop in the Agora (market street) seems to have its resident dog these days. That means I have to go into every shop to give them a pat.
And at the beach… we went to the open air cinema last night and there was a dog there too! 
Cats are everywhere of course. Some people feed the stray cats, other cats live around the smorgasbord of the garbage bins. Generally speaking, stray cats in Greece are fast and very wary. This old tom was sleeping on a fence near our house and went on full alert when I pulled out my camera.
 
Marouso’s kitten, the one briefly known as Roxy, has disappeared. She was a wild kitten we found at the beach and brought home. We fed her, loved her, Marouso had her future life planned out: luxury, pampering, sleeping on the bed, a big fat belly… I guess we needed to find a younger kitten who hadn’t yet learned to fend for itself. Either that or we needed to keep her locked up longer. This is where a dog crate would have come in handy.
Marouso is heartbroken. She’s been looking for Roxy for 24 hours now. I hope we find her or find another kitten for her. She plans to be a crazy cat lady when she grows up and needs to start training for it.
z

life in the windy lane

We’ve had the worst winds for the last couple of days. Really really strong winds. Lucky for us, everything seemed to stay more or less where we put it. Aside from tarps, rubbish, the garage…

Ok, only joking. Though the poor chickens were pinned up against the fence for most of the day…

Alright. That was a joke too.

But the wind was strong. And this morning while we were out battling with a round bale of hay I spied a tree down in the top paddock.

At first I thought the tree had come down from the neighbour’s drive, down over our fence. Turns out we were lucky.

The good news: It was our tree. On our side of the fence. The fence wasn’t damaged. Neither was the water tank.

The bad news: It was our tree.

More good news: Plenty more firewood.


Notice the deep root system gum trees have. NOT.

A whooping tree came down and there’s barely a hole to show where it was.

The poodles enjoyed running around in the tree. Its not often they get to walk among branches.

And here’s a shot of Wally enjoying a munch on the new round bale.

A friend suggested that rather than just putting a round bale in the stable and letting the horses pull it apart and walk, pee and poop all over the hay, we should surround it with pallets and restrict how much the horses can pull apart at one time.

We’ll see how it works. The way our monsters eat it won’t be long before we need to lower the fences around the bale so they can reach the hay.

z

name and shame…

Yes, he’s so cute.
He looks so sweet and innocent. Dopey even. Mommy’s boy. A sook and a cuddler.
 
But leave him alone in the house with nothing to do and this is what I come back to:
Romeo.
Yep. That’s the one.
He’s not so innocent or sweet after all.
He’s a pillow killer. And a doona killer (who can forget this?)…
And, it turns out… he’s the chook killer.
Not that I have proof. But the circumstantial evidence is mounting up.
Yesterday he was out in the paddock for ages with Wayne as he worked on the stable (which, btw, is looking great). He was good all day.
Then, just as Wayne was getting ready to knock off and come in, Romeo went off after a chook. I heard the squalking and the swearing and ran out. We called him off the chase, but he did it.
There’s no denying the fact that he went after a chook.
Sigh.
Anyhow, here is the stable – the third bay is up, walls finished. All it needs is a roof (and guttering and a rainwater tank) which the guys will be putting up this weekend . If all goes well. Looks like we’ll have stables for the horses for this winter!
Meanwhile we’re looking after a friend’s golden retriever while she’s on a bushwalk for 3 days. He’s a gorgeous boy. Who can resist those soulful eyes?
His name is Maru. She adopted him when the chinese students who owned him returned to their country and left him behind about 8 years ago. She said she’d foster him till he found a new home and a week turned into years. He’s 12 now.
The poodles noses were out of joint but I’m not sure who’s more worried about who… I know Maru is a bit worried about going into poodle territory unless I’m there to usher him in (he clings to me, so sweet), but I’ve seen the way the poodles both give him ample personal space.
Maru will grumble and let them know when he’s not happy!
Anyway, there’s a truce going on now, he’s been accepted as part of the pack so all is well. Though he’s NEVER allowed out into the paddock. He doesn’t know horses and I thought Wally had surely killed him last time he went out there (while he was visiting with his mom). He went for Wally not realising that Wally doesn’t back off to dogs, then flopped into a submissive position when Wally returned fire. Our dogs know to run when horses go after them. So Wally stomped on him. That’s what I saw. Wayne says he didn’t… but I was sure we had a dead dog. 
Thankfully he’s fine and that was over a week ago now.
Phew.
A chook killing poodle is more than enough to deal with!
z

digging it up

 

This is Dancer, our gorgeous girl. She’s a 3yr old anglo arab x warmblood, but she’s almost entirely arab to my eye. She’s not that big, if she cracks 15hh we’ll be happy. But she’s the sweetest, prettiest thing. So gentle and loving and trusting. And she moves like a dream.

I’ve organised a lady who comes highly recommended and who’s a great rider to come work with Ben to get him going for me. Hopefully she’ll work on me as well to get me going for Ben!

When I feel confident with Ben I think we’ll get her to start with Dancer. She’s not had any work so far other than the work Wayne put in to get her trusting us and giving us her feet. He’ll start ground work with her soon (at least that’s the plan) so she’ll be ready to start.

If it goes well, I figure this winter Wayne and I will be riding on our tracks! Finally!

Meanwhile, today I finally got off my butt and got motivated to do some work.

I started by clearing out one corner of our metal garden shed. When we first moved in it was meant to be the gardening shed, plus storage since its nice and dry. Over the last 2 years things have spread and it got messy.

I got in there today and made a pile of stuff to go to the tip, organised storage stuff on one end, camping gear in a corner, fishing rods hung on the back wall, gardening tools and equipment one one side. The ride on will park in the middle of that side.

Its clean. Its tidy. And I have room to put my ‘projects to do’ and to store large finished pieces waiting for a home.

I went down to the casita and climbed over the broken fence (which Wally broke last winter rushing the gate to get into the corral) to retrieve one of the 3 old metal lockers we inherited out on the porch.

I managed to drag one into the casita where I dumped it. I’ll ask the boys to bring it up to the metal shed for me later. I figure the lockers will act as storage as well as a space divider.

Then, since I was on a roll, I decided to tackle the oily bog in the garden bed.

I doubt you’ll remember this fiasco, but  not long after we moved in I decided that the small ‘garden bed’ near the small timber shed and carport would make the perfect spot for my hydrangeas. I’ve always loved hydrangeas and really wanted a spot to grow my own.

So I dug out the pebbles, found weed barrier, pulled that up and started digging holes. Put in the first two hydrangeas ok. Then I hit oil.

Sump oil.

Seems the last owner of this place used that spot to tip out the oil when servicing his cars.

What kind of person does that????

Sigh.

Needless to say, I did what I could. I dug and dug and carted and dug some more. I got sick of the smell of oil. So I did what anyone in my place would do. I put it in the too hard basket.

I put three hydrangeas in the not affected areas and left a hole to deal with ‘later’.

Today ‘later’ finally came around. I started again. Pulling up oil soaked weed barrier and digging, carting and digging more.

I’m a weakling. I can only do a job like that for a short time before my arms fall off. So I called the boys. Wayne and Chris (who’s visiting). Chris is too polite to refuse to do me a favour so I got them to dig the soil looked normal. I have a nice big hole now. Tomorrow I’ll take the trailer down and buy some topsoil to fill it and I’ll finally be able to put in the last hydrangea.

Talk about having a quiet day!

z


little miracles

Yesterday I was out in the paddock with the horses and dogs when I heard laughter coming from the chicken coop. 
Wayne is the designated chicken feeder, putter-awayer at night, and egg collector. I love listening to him when he goes up there, filling up chicken feeders, calling the chooks…
“Chook chook chook… here you go…. No ducks! You’re a duck! Get out!” etc.
But then I heard laughter. Real belly laughter. 
This is why:
At first glance its just another egg, right?
But look again:
Its the smallest chicken egg in the world!
I’m still laughing!
I can picture it now:
The poor chicken that lays the huge eggs, straining and pushing, face all squinched up, leaving claw marks on the perch as she struggles to bring forth the monstrous eggs.
The chicken next door thinking “Eh, that’s big enough” and popping out the tiny egg…
Maybe she’s lazy. Maybe she’s going on strike – “Till we get better food, better working conditions, a new chicken coop, an entertainment centre with blu ray and wide screen TV – this is the size of eggs you’ll get from us.”
I love this egg!
I love all things miniature. I used to have a big miniature collection of anything tiny. There’s the (working) tiny spanner I have on the ute (truck to my american friends) key ring which Wayne gave me. I sold most of my miniatures a few years ago, all except the poodles, but this is one I want to keep.
Now… how best to preserve it… Boil it so its hard? Or punch holes and blow it empty which will mean no stinkiness if it breaks, but its much more fragile…?
z
PS. The tiny spanner:
P.P. S. OHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I broke it!

I was putting the eggs into the fridge and dropped it!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I’m so sad! 😦

it snowed in the dog room & public dog shaming

All I wanted was a quiet night. That’s all. Was it too much to ask?
I think it was. 
I stepped into the mud room and was greeted by this scene.

It had snowed.
Let me explain. Barney and Mischa sleep in the mud room on this bed. Together. 
I’ve been recycling old doonas, which I no longer want or need, as dog blankets.
The first one got very dirty so I threw it out, giving them this down-filled one.
They loved it. It was fluffy and snuggly and comfortable.
Then I made a mistake… I fed Montana and Romeo in the mud room, separating them from Mischa and Barney, cause I’d given them lamb bones and we have had a bit of growling over bones in the past.
I thought I was playing it safe. I reckoned without the Romeo Boredom Factor.
Sigh.
This afternoon I received a dog public shaming email and laughed out loud at some of them. So I’ve now forwarded the email with my own addition.
Here are my favourites in case you missed the email.

 z