Is there such thing? In our circle of life, yes, yes indeed.
Fishing has been a lifetime passion for our sons. It fit the bill years ago when they were young, when little money was floating around for exciting excursions for a family of seven on one income.
However, we had friends whose ponds were brimming with fish, and bubbly, cool mountain streams that called their names and won their hearts forever to fishing. Only equipment needed: one fishing pole per son. That was attainable.
It has been said what goes around comes around. Fishing has come full circle. Our grandsons fish like pros. I love going to “wet a line” with them. I am the main cheerleader and photographer. The fish call them from our pond and a generous neighbor who allows them access on his ponds as well.
As soon as their feet touch the ground here, they are off to the ponds. Only a whistle brings them in.
Their fathers have taught them well.
A great catch while fishing with his Uncle!Passing the passion on.They learned from a young age the magic and joy fishing offers.They know every fish they catch.A good Uncle teaching.Not big, but fun catch from neighbors pond.Any weather is good weather for the black belt fisherman.Fishing goes everywhere.Nice catch from neighbors pond!Every fisherman has a great fish story! That’s one huge cat! Our neighbor grows them big!They catch and clean. Pop-pop fries them. Eat local.Black belt fisherman are always prepared.
Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, he eats for a lifetime.
Fifi is our chicken momma. She hatched five little chicks six weeks ago. She has shown herself diligent, strong, and brave. She earned her ‘Ninja’ name last week, as named by my twinster.
When she got broody, I asked our neighbor for some fertile eggs. She made her nest in the rafters of the barn. Climbing a ladder daily was the only way to keep an eye on her. It did not end well for that clutch unfortunately. Sweltering summer heat proved too much, none made it.
Removing a broody hen who wants babies that are not going to hatch is sad. She kept sitting on the ground, not wanting to give up.
I decided to make a new nest in a box stall, get more eggs and try again. I have read where the eggs should be set before the hen, and if she wants them, she will move them under her. To my great joy and surprise, she put five eggs under her feathery, warm body in her newly made nest.
She is pushing the egg under her.
Had I been too hasty, I suddenly thought to myself? It takes a lot for a hen to hatch eggs. They sit for 21-25 days, getting off their nest once, maybe twice daily for food, water, and to relieve themselves. One round of hatching is hard enough. She is strong, young and determined, I reasoned. We both were going to succeed this time.
She put all five eggs under her!
To me it seems like magic. The chicks hatched! All five of them. The joy we have had watching them grow is terrific.
Adorable chicks.How they hide under her is so cute!How fast they grow! (Fifi is enjoying her first dirt bath since hatching them).
Our chickens free range. Occasionally we will loose one to fox. Last week was such a time. While feeding I noticed Fifi did not look ‘right’. Upon closer inspection I saw her wing was damaged, she’d lost a few feathers on her back and one foot was not quite right.
We put them in the barn where she could rest and get better. They were kept in the barn for several days and let out for short times under careful watch.
Apparently it was not worth engaging with a mother hen protecting her babies. Her healing has been amazing to watch. She took a beating protecting her chicks, but they are safe. Her bravery surely earned the ‘Ninja’ title.
She has recovered well.Her call to them ‘for food’ is unique, and do they ever come running!A close eye is kept on them.Watching this hen with her chicks has been fascinating.
Life on the farm is unique. What compares? Share your thoughts. We grow our own food, raise a bunch of critters, have a bunch of fun, love the land. Outdoors is best. I’m bias? Yes, I am… May I ask you this—Do you love the land?
How about you? What’s your ‘jam’? Tell us, please! As my mother used to say, “It takes all kinds to make this world, Midy”.
She was right.
Pond reflections of windmill.Have you ever considered the life of a pond?Good day of fishing…he is the small one….Dinner from our pond.Nothing like line-dried clothes, yeah!Our broody hen, Fifi…setting on 7 fertile eggs.Evening-tide on the farm. Coveralls are essential items out here! I love this land. I love my farm…what do YOU love?
That is her name, Doris. You know, the chicken our “good” dogs attacked last week? She is recovering very well. She has been out of the infirmary and free-ranging since Tuesday.
I could not deny her ‘request’ to go outside. I found her standing directly in front of the stall door staring at it early Tuesday morning. As if she knew staring at it long enough would open it. Well, it did!
I thought if she wants out that badly, she must be feeling well enough. So I opened it, and out she came.
We have only two chickens (a fox got the rest), and I watched the other one carefully. Doris still has bare spots on her little body, though feathers are growing back. All seemed well, and indeed all is well.
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Doris and Fee-Fee.Happy to be released from infirmary.Sunflower seeds are good for growing feathers—lots of protein.Ahhhh! Green grass! I watched her carefully for a good while.
Love and care go a long way. Even for a little chicken.
Old Man Winter has enjoyed a good long visit with us lately. Snow has blanketed the ground for these past two weeks. Freezing temperatures, except two days, have happily kept company with the snow.
Light is a photographers dearest friend. Making all the difference in the ‘feel’ of a photo. My most favorite time for light is evening twilight when I go out to feed. Most especially when the light of day is nearly equal to lights peering from windows of buildings and snow is all around.
Cold as it was, taking these evening photos was fun, and I hope you enjoy them. When is your favorite time for taking photographs?
Temperatures have been freezing, but this bunny does not seem to mind.A peak inside barn from outside frosty window. It is cozy and warm inside there.Barn lights starting to light up the night.Plenty of hay and straw for the cattle.The glowing, warm light beckons one inside.The warmth of house lights is comforting.Snow has happily been here for these past couple weeks.
Thank you for stopping by. Enjoy your evening wherever you are.
Six inches of snow fell earlier this week. More is called for today and into the weekend. Gusts of wind across the northwest corner of our farm has created drifts of snow along with patches of ground exposed. Our plowed path to the barn is now covered over with drifted snow.
A Scandinavian proverb says: There is no bad weather only bad clothing. I say that to myself as I trudge through snow drifts to feed the livestock and out in the fields to open gates. Thankful for the big hood of my coat I keep pulling over the knitted one already on as the gusts of wind make every effort to blow them away. The snow is not deep enough to go down the tall farm boots, but the drifts are. Yes, good clothing is great.
Seventeen degrees outside on this dark, early morning though the wind makes it feel colder. Anxious hungry eyes record every trudging step taken closer and closer their way. Telling me with a hungry whinny or moo to hurry up!
Hay is spread far and wide in front of the barn out of the wind. Horses rule over cows, but they can only keep rule over one pile of hay at a time. One more heap of hay over number of animals keeps the peace. Hay is piled liberally, while, Duke, our senior horse munches grain.
A midday feeding is made too on days like these when Ole Man winter blows across our farm. Hay is best for keeping the animals warm.
Speaking of hay, it is time to go out…
The horses are sure ready for feeding time.Every step towards the barn is marked with anticipation.Wind makes horses fractious, so does hunger.Could you move a little faster, Raggedy wants to know.Waiting for feed.Well, we’re waiting…Harold is ready to retire on this cold evening.All fed and tucked in. Good night!
“You call yourself a horsewoman, but in your heart you’re a cow woman.”
So said Mr.White, one day while working on new iron railings around our house recently. I laughed but I have had fun thinking about his observation.
I recall my Aunty Bliss telling me years ago as a little girl I would sit under the fences in our cow fields with my hands and face resting on the bottom fence board watching the cows in the field. I do not remember this.
I do remember getting up on cold winter mornings, peering out the window into the dark looking for the light in the barn. The little glow of light told us our farm hand was loading silage for feeding time. Jumping out of bed and warmly wrapped, we walked in the dark toward the little light. We never felt the cold while feeding. He kept the truck cab good and warm for my twin sister, our best friend and me while feeding.
I think cows are beautiful. Watching the young 4-H kids handle those big animals in the show rings at every summer County fair fills me with wonder. They work so diligently, and the cattle are so well kept. And besides all that, I love the sound of a cow mooing.
Later, much later, in life a good friend asked me in a rather disgusted tone why do I like cows? “They are stinky and have flies all over them!”, she said. I laughed, thinking she was right—at least on the flies all over them point.
I don’t think cows stink.
We have three Miniature Hereford steers on our little farm. I agree with my cattle-loving brother-in-law, ” It isn’t much of a farm without cattle on it.” There is a bucolic feeling of cattle out in a field. I suppose as the tree is bent so it grows, and I am just bent that way.
Though I would never say cattle rank above horses in my mind, they sure are hot on the heels of them. Mr. White just may be right, deep in my heart I am a cow-woman.
Hanging around after feeding time.Though fuzzy, they are rough-housing around!They always stick close together.Our farm looks complete with the cattle.Mr. White made this for our railing. Made of horseshoes of course!The grass is so long and beautiful, the steers are very nearly hidden!
Looking out across the field the other day, my gaze fell on one of our cows resting all alone away from the others. I felt an immediate pang of loneliness. It seems to me God has made most all His creation for community.
The idea of a person or animal being lonely is more than I can bear. This may sound silly but it is one reason I love writing little notes to family and friends. My grandchildren, I am told, carry their notes from me around all day.
We all need to know someone is near and/or thinking of us. Do you agree? The greatest comfort is knowing God is always near to those who call on Him, for He never leaves us lonely.
I was also happy to later see everyone grazing together.
Four seasons comprise a year where we live here in Virginia. Right now about four weeks remain for this winter season. This cannot go by fast enough for my husband. Winter wins hands down for his least favorite season. Summer is his favorite.
It seems most folk I talk to say Spring is their favorite. I have heard it said that the season one is born in is the favorite. Have you heard that before? It does not hold true for me.
I was born in summer, but I cannot say it is my favorite. When asked, my general response is, “The season we are in right now is my favorite”. Because of my enjoyment of photography, there is something lovely and unique in each season. Though I find it much easier to add layers of clothing when it is cold. I mean there is only so much to be taken off when hot.
Fuzzy winter-coat horses are cozy and warm too. The best hand warmer around is between a horses elbow and belly, or under a full winter mane and neck. Duke looks like a fuzzy black bear in his winter coat. High Hope is not as fuzzy. The minis, Snowbell and Raggedy, look like two little fur balls rolling around like a tumbleweed.
When the wind blows their coats shimmer and wave like tall grasses on the prairie. Steam blowing from their noses makes them snort and blow more. I think it makes them feel big and strong!
Blue and white are my favorite colors, so I suppose if I had to choose a season, it would be winter.
My favorite colors, blue and white, match the winter season.Brand new winter day dawning.Morning has broken.Duke, our ‘fuzzy bear’.Raggedy looks like a rolling fur ball.A winter visitor!I suppose if I had to choose, winter would be my favorite.
The element of surprise has never been wasted with Boo-Boo. As a kitten she would hide behind every corner in the house then suddenly leap out at the unsuspecting passerby. It was hilarious how it even sounded as if she said BOO! before taking a mad dash into hiding. She is still this fun and playful at nearly 9 years old.
Adopted as a little kitten from a farming friend who found her high in a tree, we brought her home with great joy. She filled the hole left by our older cat that had recently died. It seems she has always appreciated her upgraded status from farm life to house cat. She goes to the barn only if we humans and dogs are out there with her. She never hunts for mice or birds. She much prefers feather pillows, and quilts on the beds to cat beds.
She is a ‘dog-walk’ cat. Everyday she walks with Buster, HoneyPie and me. Recently she joined us for an entire 40-minute walk! Often she walks on the fence around our property, “talking” the whole while!
The dogs hop around and wiggle when I brush them. Boo-Boo? Stands nicely and purrs! Good thing she has long, thick fur, a feather weighs more than she does.
HoneyPie and Buster would chase her but she has learned “no running means no chasing”. If they get too pushy, she’ll swat them. Seniority goes a long way.
She is a fun addition to this family of animals that call our place home. Allow me to introduce her.
Boo-Boo our “dog-walk” cat.She walks the fence rows around our farm.Her thick coat makes her look big!Quilts and feather pillows are her favorite.Stretch time.Is it walk time?Balancing act!A quiet moment on her ‘dog-walk’.
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