Our Plumber, an important member of the team

Gerry, our plumber is a godsend. A funnier man can't be found.  The farmhouse was at least 6 months with no water or electricity before Heather took procession.  Gerry came to turn the water on for the first time. What he found was not good!  Split pipe upstairs.  Quick as a wink, fixed...running water at in the house.  Also destroyed the last good ceiling in the house, not Gerry's fault, but funny at the time, kinda.

Gerry isn't a plumber we found in the phonebook, he is the husband of one of my very best friends.  As a trade off for work, Gerry has a storage barn at the farm so he regularly comes and goes.  One afternoon I was complaining to him about the coyotes and his eyes lit up.  "in the back woods.  Mind if I go after him?" When I see him again, visions of Elmer Fudd. He is dressed head to toe in hunting gear, he is serious!  The next time I see him, he is soaked up to his gullet!  He tried to jump across a wet swampy creek onto a little hillock and went down to the bottom, gun thrust over his head, had to use the butt end to pry himself out to the goo and water. Ahhh hahaha where's Bugs Bunny ?  Vern says to him, "Gunna wear yer life jacket next time you go hunting, Gerry?" Bahahaha

Gerry comes to our aid whenever there is a water emergency, which, thank goodness, are fewer and fewer these days.  When the pump in the well went, Gerry had already strained his back.  The well cover is a really heavy piece of thick concrete. While I was running to the garage to get something to help remove the lid, Gerry was lifting it off himself.  I returned to watch him work.  He stands up, stooped over for a few steps..."Omg you look like a Neanderthal !" I tell him.  Oop, A few more steps and he's straightening up! "There you go, Homo Erectus again." I ratted him out to his wife, hoping maybe she could nag him into not doing stuff like that,  ha no luck there.

A good plan last year was to pump water out of the creek for the vegetable garden.  Vern put in a sump pump and out of it ran a hose with a sprinker.  Easy, simple. I get a phone call from Gerry, "Do you have another sprinkler?" "Yeah," I say, "at my house, in my shed." "I'm in your shed." "Oh...why do you need another sprinkler?"  " Cause I blew the ass outta the one here." When I get to the garden, there is a beautiful gas pump, hoses, taps, with splitters, two hoses and the whole garden getting a beautiful sprinkle.  Love our plumber !

The most Dangerous Animal

The potential for danger when dealing with a nine hundred to twelve hundred pound "omg dont eat me" animal is always one crazy moment away. Something tangled in their tails can set off a forward moving reaction that there is no stopping; an unexpected movement of a tarp can result in a head injury; a calm steady horse can go upside down in the cross ties over an unexpected move. There have been a couple of serious and expensive horse injuries in the paddocks from kicks over dominance. All experienced horse people have horrific stories of loss, injuries or mayhem. But the most frightening thing in the horse barn is the 150 lb knowitall who thinks these big animals are all kind and sweet natured and get along with everything. Oh my goodness, when I think to all the well intentioned mistakes Vern and I have made over the last five years ... To quote a great man, my father, "a little knowledge is a dangerous thing".

Humans and our pets, mostly dogs and cats, are predators. That's a behaviour we understand. Horses on the other hand are prey animals and they think differently.  They are a herd animal and they think differently. And people who haven't seen a horse go though a fence, or step on a lead line, or rear up in the cross ties and go over backwards, don't think about the worse that can happen and follow simple steps to avoid problems. They needlessly put themselves or their horse or others in potential dangerous situations from lack of horse sense.

A lesson from my go to guy, Monty Roberts, from his book The Man Who Listens to Horses, "It sounds obvious, but its critical to remember that given the slightest excuse a horse will say, 'I don't want to be near you. I feel there is danger if I stay!' The flight animal wants only to reproduce and survive; fear is the tool that allows him to survive. This has to be respected in any dealings with a horse, or he will be misunderstood."

There isn't a fence (let's face it, a fence is just an idea, if they want over it or through it, they are going!) or a 150 - 200 lb person going to stop them. Let's all work together to not put the horses in a dangerous situation.

Again from Monty Roberts, "While horses are friendly, mis-treatment and fear can render them hostile, and caution should be used if you are unsure of a horse's tem-perament."

Chickens... the funniest little characters

Plan A to train chickens: I bought a large tub of meal worms. Thank goodness the lady in the pet store understood I wanted dried meal worms, not the LIVE ones the young man was going for!! At first the chickens were too nervous of any outstretched hand and a huge lumbering human coming at them.  Sarah picked them up, one at a time, and tried poking the worms in their beaks.  Sadly they have had their beaks cut as babies but happily there is a convenient space to poke the dried crispy little worm in. Given a minute or two they might have accidently eaten it. They were too freaked out about being held. When we let them outside to wander around the barnyard, they finally twigged on to the meal worms. Now they jump up to grab one out of my fingers. They will peck them out of the palm of my hand (now I am kinda glad for the pointy part of the beak missing). The girls know the sound of the meal worms when I rattle the container and they come running. The comic value of chickens running is worth everything right there. When I am ready to leave, I have to throw down a handful of worms and then run away before they start running after me.

Their first forays out of the barn was to scratch and hunt under the horse trailer. I guess they felt secure under cover. Now its quite normal to see them smooching through the horse paddocks or just cruising around inside the barn. They like checking out all the stalls, picking up leftover oats.  Surprisingly none of the horses, even the new Arabs have the slightest problem with the chickens. Nor do the owners. The hens are a definitely a welcome addition to the family. Their antics have us all entertained. Sarah wonders why we didn't do it sooner...

The downside to having outdoor chickens in the barn is the copious amount of slimey shit that comes out of our new feathered friends wonderfully fluffy butts.

I'm happy you're safe

As soon as I get complacent about Mrs. Fox, she shows up again. And just when I think dopey Smooch will steer clear of her, I find him in the wrong place again! Right at this moment he is pacing and stocking around  inside because I am tired of worrying. At this moment he is safe!

Mrs. Fox and I have had several run ins. While I was gardening, I heard her god awful screech coming from the top of the rock. I had the cat outside with me so I figured trouble. I ran up the hill... as fast as I could, considering...  Actually I made up pretty good, but heaving at the top, hehe. There is the cat at the top in the exact same spot the vixon had fed her kits that morning. I had seen the kits at the shed again at dawn. Then I caught her running by the deck with something in her mouth around coffee time. I yelled at her and chased her. She disappeared for a little while then reappeared coming down the face of the rock, gathered up her kits behind her, back up the rock where she stared me down across the expanse of the yard.

So there was Smooch, sitting at the top and I saw her come out of the bush straight at him, fangs bared, ears back, snaring and screaming. I intercepted her and she melted back into the woods. Back down the hill, cat goes down the rock and we met at the bottom in the clearing. But, omg, she came down too and was heading towards the cat again. Then it was my turn to go into screaming mama mode and I chased her off again. Smooch did seem a bit nervous now.

All photos stolen from Google

No vixon, no kits for a while. Actually I haven't  seen the little ones again. I was feeling relieved. She now knew there is a crazy lady at the bottom of the hill.  Cats are out for the evening, I'm feeling relaxed, Vern and I are outside too, on the deck. Then we see a blur of something around the corner of the driveway and it's moving fast. As the blur goes by its the vixon.  She runs to the road and into the woods.  Quite a few minutes later Smooch comes down out of a very big hemlock tree. And very inelegant at that since he is a big cat with a big round belly. So maybe he is frighted of her now, but maybe he was what she was chasing so fast...      

Again no vixon for a few days, again I am feeling relaxed and let up on cat babysitting. We are having a tea at the supper table and there is that screech again. I am so tuned to it now that I am up and out the door before Vern really hears it. I pinpointed the sound from the side of the driveway, she is screaming loudly and doesn't Smooch came out of the woods at the same spot! He is clearly scared and as I bend down to him, the vixon comes out right at us. I ran at her again and she runs back into the woods but lets us know with her screaming and caterwauling that Smooch had better learn to stay away.

 Maybe they can get along, maybe they will learn to fly too

So far so good, cats are still safe and no fox for awhile now but ...when are the six little ones going to start exploring?

      Cool fox tatoo I think 

The Friggin Freakin Fox

Three cats, eight fox ... hmmmm. For so long I haven't considered foxes a threat. I figured under all that fur they probably weren't much bigger than a cat, just longer legs. We also had a very big dog, Great Dane, Lab cross. But since he is in doggy heaven, we now have a family of foxes living in the backyard... we also have squirrels in the attic and something else now, squitering around the chimney, I heard it last night. I hope its not bats again. Can't do bats again!

First fox sighting the end of March. This picture was taken out of the dining room window.
Pretty close to the house I thought

Over the the years I have been become acquainted with what the Fox says and it ain't Ring ding dingding... Its a godawful yip, bark, screech that is extemely loud and terrifying if you don't know what it is at night loping through the yard and screaming.  I'd leap outta bed and call the cats in. But always screeching at night. Until now.

Now while having morning coffee, Vern and I heard the screeching and I ran out in my slippers. There is my young black cat sitting on a rock a few feet from the screaming fox. He meanders to me and lets me pick him up, all the while the fox is stocking us.

This is now my daily routine.  Let the cat out in the morning and find him pensively waiting on the rock where he last saw the fox. I don't understand why ... dummy cat, Smooch is his name by the way, runs away from Heather's dog but has spent the last week pining for the fox. Nine thirty in the morning seems to be her time to run by my deck and scream at my cat, so way before then, I am bundled up, it is still 5 to 10 degrees c in the morning, having my coffee on the deck waiting for the fox too.

    What does the fox say? For real… https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=J6NuhlibHsM and LOUD!

Plot twists

Sometime around week two we discover four little fox kits tumbling around the backyard, playing and fighting and popping in and out from under the shed...  next day I count 6 little kits, all scrambling about the deck looking in the door window at... of course the cats! Next twist, Vern and I figure out from the first picture I took that this isn't the same fox!  This one is more orange red and smaller and doesn't have the white breast. Eight foxes!

"What does the fox say" Ylvis https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jofNR_WkoCE

Only the first and last photos are mine. The rest are stolen from Google

A game

I like to play... Plop... Thunk ... Dibble ... Don't look ... guess what size was the horse shit ball that just fell off the wheel barrow? Okay look!

Saturday will bring us the lastest addition to the farm, another beautiful arab mare.  They are such elegant looking horses. We have been staring at thoroughbred noses and draft crosses for so long. The prancy trot of the arabs is a welcome sight. It's been 12 years since Heather has been at an all Arab barn. The mix of horses here at her farm has been lovely. We have gotten to know the quirks and strengths of different breeds.

The chickens have been a lively addition too. It has been a week since they have been free to wander around the barnyard and they bring a happy funny presence. They are very socialable and talkative.  Yesterday I peeked in the nesting box and found a hen sitting, laying an egg I presume. She nattered and clucked at me. I felt scolded for invading her privacy.

 Chicken Gang 

I heard an awful kerfuffle at the barn door the other day, I turned around and saw Theo, the farm cat come racing into the barn and spin around staring at the milk house door…

What the …. ?, said I… Theo had just ran the gauntlet and the Chicken Gang was giving him hell!

Slowly, with the promise of meal worms and my imitation of clucking, I convinced two chickens to follow me out past the barnyard to the lawn. Theo came around the corner and stopped in mid stride... he eyeballed up the chicken invaders ... and then slowly, oh so slowly, retreated backwards back around the corner, around the back of the house. He is so over chickens!

"If you can manage a pet cat, you can manage a few chickens,"

a wise man said on youtube. Well I guess this is going to be easy since I have had cats my whole life but I know  a b s o l u t e l y NOTHING about chickens. And neither does Heather, the Horse Wrangler or Sarah, the Baker. All we know is that we like eggs and roast chicken dinner.

This is what I know so far: our chickens are "Red Sexlink" chickens, which means they are a hybrid between a Rhode Island red or a New Hampsire rooster and a White Rock hen or something like that. They are a kind of chicken not a breed of chicken because they won't reproduce another sexlink chicken.  The reason for this kind of chicken is that breeders can easily identify males and females. These chickens lay large brown eggs, they are friendly and they don't fly much, which make them easy pickins for predators. They are ridiculously easy to catch, they just kinda squat down and we can scoop them up. 

 The first egg was a double yolker! 

About two weeks in, one chicken has been laying an egg a day... that's it! Still excited, still waiting ...