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October 22, 2009

Mr. Meaty - The Carnivorous Squirrel

Last weekend I had the pleasure of shooting a beautiful high school senior at Rohner Park. The day was pretty, the weather was warm and my model was gorgeous:

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I brought Taters along with me and gave her my back-up camera and telephoto lens. She loves that camera and I knew between the donkeys, feral cats, and crows, she'd have plenty of subject matter to shoot.

Just prior to the shoot starting, we saw this little fellow:

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Cute, isn't he? With a bushy little gray tail and beady black little eyes, he's the epitomy of a wholesome nature moment. He skipped and he scampered along providing Taters with giggles and endless photo ops:

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However, the adorableness of this little fellow quickly came into question as he made his way up this tree:

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And we saw this hanging from a branch:

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I heard Taters gasp and I saw her cover her mouth. She looked in horror at the squirrel and then at the shoe. She then professed:

"All that remains of the last child to see Mr. Meaty, the carnivorous squirrel, is a solo tennis shoe, Mom."

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It's safe to say that we stayed away from Mr. Meaty's tree and were able to dodge his bucktoothy advances. Our warning for you? Stay outta Rohner Park unless you want to face the same demise from Mr. Meaty, the carnivorous squirrel.

Happy Halloween :-)

September 06, 2009

Have You Seen Destiny?

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A friend of mine recently had her horse turn up missing from her ranch in Fortuna. The mare, an 18 year old bay Arab named "Destiny," was last seen on August 15th, happily grazing with her pasture buddies. My buddy searched her entire property and found absolutely no signs of Destiny being injured or harmed by a wild animal. This leads me to believe that Destiny was more than likely stolen, which is absolutely heartbreaking to the loving family that owns her.

Destiny is 13.5 hands, has a white star and stripe and a small white snip on her nose, and a right front sock. She has small white speckles across her withers, back and rump.

If you have any information at all, regarding Destiny, please use the below numbers to get a hold of my buddy:

(707) 725-4604
(707) 845-1307
(707) 845-4090

Thank you for any help or information you might be able to offer!

August 27, 2009

Little Feet

We had another hen disappear about 28 days ago - coincidently enough, just long enough for one to hatch a clutch of eggs should she put her little chicken brain to it. When this hen returned, I quickly noticed she had grown some new appendages in the form of little feet:

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Upon closer inspection, the hen also noticed these feet and freaked out a bit:

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Until she saw this and calmed down a bit...It just made me smile:

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I'd like to introduce Nugget and Tender, the newest additions to our household:

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June 26, 2009

Louise - The Big Cheese

The hazards of having an excellent huntress in the house (a.k.a. Gracie the kitteh kat), has been wearing on our family lately. Gracie seems to really enjoy supplying "her" brood with breakfast, lunch, and even dinner, consisting of whatever may be wandering around under our front porch. She was so gracious to us the other night, that she brought in a young mouse I'm sure she planned on making into some sort of mousy sushi role. C-dub found her bounty, carefully wrapping it up in a paper towel and eventually bringing it to me.

"Mom! Look what Gracie killed this time. A rat!" as he pushed the napkin into my face. Not the best thing to be unprepared for - especially if you're not a huge fan of the rodent kind.

I carefully unwrapped his bundle and inspected the little body, preparing myself for a bloody pile of gore or even worse, some sort of kangaroo rat prepared to jump on me with rabid fangs. Instead, I found a tiny little brown mouse, still warm and softly breathing. It looked like Gracie had given it quite the spit job as it's fur was peaked in patches and it's little beady were tightly shut.

I folded the napkin back up and thought for a second on what to do.

"C-dub, the little fella is still alive. Gracie didn't kill it."

I could see the innerworkings of C-dub's and Taterbug's minds; suuhhhwwwwhhhhheeeettt!!! A new family pet! Gunny could care less and in fact, ordered his Grandpa to throw the mouse out to the dogs. He tends to not be attracted to cute little fuzzy things.

Quashing the kid's longing for a new pet, I told him that I didn't think the little fella would probably make it. Cradling the mouse, I contemplated putting it back outside to let nature take it's course. It was cold and windy outside and I knew it wouldn't take long for either the elements or even the rooster, to hunt it down. As I watched it struggle, I couldn't help but kick into mothering mode and begin to feel sorry. So much so, that I crafted a mouse ICU out of an old treasure box, and placed it on my kitchen counter. Totally unsanitory, but you're looking at a broad who hatching call ducks on her kitchen table. That's what Chlorox wipes are for and it's all the more reason to eat dinner on the couch.

For the next 24 hours, we carefully watched and took care of the little guy. Our "care" consisted of lifting the lid to see if it had drank any of the water or had moved from it's side position. It wasn't much but the kids and I decided we were at least giving it a better chance at life than should we have placed it back out into the wild. The mouse eventually worked into the name "Louise the Big Cheese" and the kids contemplated what she might look like fully grown - even though they seemed to understand she probably wouldn't make it to adulthood.

On the morning of the second day, we found Louise curled up, and no longer in pain. It was decided we would bury her in my front planter bed, amongst the gladiolis I had recently planted. After I dug the hole and placed the tiny body inside of it, I asked the kids if they wanted to say anything.

C-dub's reply was, "Louise. She was a good mouse."

And onto mouse heaven she went. Although sad, I was proud of how the kiddos accepted her fate and helped to say goodbye. I don't think Gunny ever caught on with what happened and his only concern was whether or not the dogs like the "ouse." He can be such a little hard headed turd.

I'm looking into turned Gracie onto the vegan lifestyle. Anyone know where they make soy mouse or tuna flavored hummus?

May 31, 2009

Backyard Peeper

I have a beautiful view out of my bedroom thanks to a large sliding glass door and a redwood forest. If you haven't gathered it before, our house is actually pretty rural in that we can freely walk around in the buff without fear of giving the neighbor a heart attack or ending up in a strange video segment on Youtube. Not that we do but I'm just sayin' if we wanted to it would certainly be a possibility. A true assault to the eyeballs so I suggest calling before you visit.

Anyhoo, since we have such a private piece of property, I rarely close the drapes over my sliding glass door. I love waking up to the sun beating down on my face or fuzzy little bunnies scampering around my backyard. Like this:

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That's Mrs. Bunny. She visits us every spring with a coupla kits (baby bunnies). I've never seen a Mr. Bunny so I've got a feeling he's pretty scandalous and that he may just be a yearly boo-tay call for Mrs. Bunny. I guess he's just lookin' for a little Cottontail (!). Eh, she seems to enjoy it and the byproducts are super cute, so all is well in this year's episode of "As the Rabbit Turns."

Although I normally feel pretty comfortable leaving the drapes open and exposing myself to my forest friends, I have recently acquired an admirer that is causing me to develop some modesty. It's this guy:

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Zeke has started frequenting my backyard with his lady friends. They're normally very peaceful, looking for the occasional bug and berry - not causing a ruckus - just enjoying the fruits of freshly mowed lawn and springtime. I don't mind them being back there, in fact I love their organic bug eating abilities and the goofy attitudes they portray while I'm sitting on my bed and enjoying the show.

This peaceful serenity has recently been broken by a change in Zeke's attitude. I'm sure I'm just reading him wrong and his manifested interest is because of springtime rooster lady lust, but I've recently been closing my drapes due to his innate "interest" in my well-being.

For example, last week as he was walking near my back deck, I saw him do a double-take as he passed by my sliding glass door. Our eyes met and for a minute, I swear I could hear Joey Tribbiani (from Friends) saying:

How you doin'?

Then, he proceeded to hop up on then bench sitting on my back deck, and serenade me with crows for the next half hour. Seriously, what did he expect me to do? He is a friendly little rooster, but I'm certainly not going to try and pet him or reward him with strawberries for his signing prowess. So instead? I reward him with a smile and close my curtains. I leave poor Zeke to perform on an empty stage with only his Henny Penny lady friends as an audience. He still crows and crows, but his song length is certainly shortened and my peace and modesty is quickly restored.

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Should I be flattered? Well, maybe. But in all reality, he's probably just viewing me as a strange potential threat to his lady friends. With my blinding beauty, milky white skin, and flowing auburn tresses, who can blame him? I probably look like some vixen ready to steal his ladies from him. You do realize that description came from my inner voice, right? And it might just be a little exaggerated - ok, a lot exaggerated - right? Just checkin'.

I can't wait for Spring fever to leave my poultry and make me remember my 33 year old mommy body.

May 29, 2009

Duck, Duck, Goose?

Most people who have children are used to the monsters bringing friends over. Slumber parties, play dates, and genuine good times are also welcome at this house and my kidlets know it. Evidently, my animals are also aware of this rule because Diva the Duck brought home friends the other morning. Eight little friends, actually, with the sphincter control of a newborn:

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I have no idea where Diva found her buddies but she looked perfectly content to share her grass with them:

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I don't even think that Diva realized these beasts were giants in compared to her demure size and that they could have easily slurped her up along with the wayward slugs that are no longer in my yard:

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Diva's buddies only visited for a few minutes - mainly because they received the official welcome wagon from these two heathens:

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And this guy trying to figure out how to use my camera:

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The kids got a kick out of Diva's buddies as they slowly ambled out of our yard. I'm sure they belong to a neighbor but I honestly wouldn't mind if they stopped by occasionally for a visit - and promised not to drop goose bombs on my driveway.
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May 13, 2009

Duck Stalking

As I was sprawled out on my bed this morning, watching TV and *thinking* about getting up, I noticed a flurry of activity out my sliding glass door. As I looked out, I saw our mallard duck, Paris, walk by with about a dozen ducklings in tow.

WTF?

Had she really been gone for 20+ days and I didn't notice? Did she steal them from another hen and leave the poor gal's body in the woods? She doesn't seem the type...

Nope, these little cuties look just like their momma and I have a feeling Big Fred, the drake from up the street, had something to do with it.

I did my best to run out in my bathrobe and catch a few shots but it was to no avail. She quickly sequestered her babies in the tall grass and feigned having an injured wing. I took it as a good hint I was being a pain in her feathery butt and I left her alone.

The duck pool is again filled with large rocks so as to prevent any duckling drownings and my heart is filled with joy as my kiddos don't know anything yet. What a great thing to come home from after school - fuzzy babies.

May 09, 2009

Good For A Giggle...

Cat yodeling.

May 08, 2009

Peggy Sue 1995 - 2009

Peggy Sue

One of the world's best dogs passed on today after living almost 15 years with our family. Her name was Peggy Sue and she never fully realized she was a dog.

Peggy Sue was a Rhodesian ridge back cross that my parents adopted from a gal who had originally rescued her from a bad situation. Peggy Sue showed right from the start how smart she was, learning tricks quickly and being uber gentle with aggressive love pats from the various kids who found her ears absolutely delightful. They were so soft that when she laid her head on your lap, you could rub them for hours and she'd certainly never complain.

As my brother and I eventually moved out, leaving empty rooms, Peggy Sue was given her own bedroom and took over as my parent's third child. She loved it and so did my parents. She went everywhere with them and would come over on occasion to our house for play dates. She was one of those dogs who had a high self esteem and would keep herself perfectly groomed and ever so ladylike. She didn't really care for our stinky golden retriever, but she'd oblige Remi with a quick game of tug-o-war or "who can run the fastest across the yard for the rotten apple" chase. Needless to say, Peggy Sue would always win. That dog was so fast and agile.

Peggy Sue truly wrapped her tail around all of our hearts and we'll miss her greatly.

Rainbow Bridge ~ Author Unknown

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

May 05, 2009

Catmooflauge

I never have a complete pair of socks in my house because Piper and Gracie think they're cotton mice. It's gotten to the point that I have to sneak clean clothes into my room and then immediately deposit socks into their drawers for fear they will be stalked and stolen.

Piper is especially bad about this. She is rabid for the sock mice in our house. It all starts with the evil eye:

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She fights voraciously for her prey:

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Even protecting Gunny from it's cottony sockmouse evilness:

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After the battle has been won, she sequesters herself amongst my clean sheets, in a catmooflauged state:

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I'm just happy the sockmice are bloodless because it would be a freakin' mess if they had internal organs.

April 28, 2009

Chicken Sushi

Give it up Piper, it just ain't gonna happen...

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Neither kitty nor chicken were harmed in the making of this photo.

April 21, 2009

The Best Type Of Chicken Feed

Last weekend, C-dub and I planted seeds and strawberries plants in our outside planters. We bought soil and carefully filled up each container, daintily placing our seeds in each one. While we were doing this, our pet rooster Zeke, was standing guard and eyeballing us, trying to figure out what the heck the stupid humans were doing in his yard.

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Once we were finished, we watered and called it a day. The kids and I talked later that night about how much fun it would be to watch our seeds turn into plants and eventually something on our dinner table. Life was good and we hit the sheets.

The next morning, I looked out at our planters and saw quite a mess. Evidently Zeke and his girlfriends had figured out what we were doing and had proceeded to dig up all the seeds we had planted. They left us empty shells, spilled dirt, chicken tracks, and lots of poop. I was initially irritated but later realized I should have thought about how smart these little rats with wings can be - especially with gourmet seeds. And, I should have caught on when Zeke began parading his lady friends by to see what we were doing. He had been planning this thievery all day long.

Mr. and Mrs. Zeke Rooster

Although we lost our first batch of seeds, I went ahead and planted another batch of seeds again, yesterday. This time, I took the proper precautions and placed barriers around my pots. Unless the chickens suddenly develop opposable things, I think my plants will be safe.

April 19, 2009

Fly Fishing

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The art of aerial acrobatics performed inside a private residence so that a happily chattering feline may partake amongst some tatsty flying insect goodness.

Spring is here and so are the flies. Thank goodness I have two kitteh kat murderers.

April 12, 2009

A Cat With A Fetish And Some Interesting Food

For your visual enjoyment:

The cat with issues:

Disgusting food:

April 06, 2009

My Own Jeremiah

I just got my laptop back from the shop and I'm finding it to still be acting wonky. Because of this, I've had to sit on this story for a week and it's been killing me with anticipation. I was so badly traumatized by this amphibious incident that I had to share.

It all began about a week or so again when my kids visited their grandparents in Rio Dell. By their house is a swampy area known to harbor many types of creepy crawly things. My kids totally scored by finding a large frog - a frog so big in fact, that Taters swore it could eat our kittens. My orders, just prior to going to bed from a long graveyard shift, were simple; do not bring it home.

At about three in the afternoon, I was woken up to the sound of my bedroom door opening and incessant shooshing and giggling. Hubby and the three kids walked in and softly called my name. I ducked back under the covers because I wasn't ready to face the world of daylight. I should have just stayed there.

As Hubby pulled the covers back, I saw that he had a coffee can with a large hole poked in the lid. I believe you can call this a "clue." I ducked back under the covers. I knew something was up and the size of that container's air hole worried me just a tad. I was not interested in meeting what the can had in it and I announced my distaste, again, of anything creepy, crawly, slimy or jumpy. I received snickers for my protests.

The three kids and grinning Hubby assured me that what they brought home was so awesome, I would surely thank them in the end. I highly doubted it but poked my head out of the comforter anyway. Seeing the whites of my eyes caused Hubby to remove the lid. This is what greeted me:

Hey baby, why dontcha give me a smooch and I'll prove what a prince I can be. Muah. How could you refuse these biceps?
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It slowly crawled out the bucket and I proceeded to shriek then scream. I screamed for my friggin' life and the life of my kittens. The damn thing was so big that it probably would have eaten Gunny should he have held still long enough. The beast slithered on out of the can and continued my torment. It also did a few push-ups on it's way out, I'm sure in an attempt to impress me. Sorry horny toad, it did nothing for me:

Come on, baby, you can't tell me you don't likey the pecs on this manimal.
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No muscled flexing or winking was going to get a smooch out of me. I already had three princes in my life; I didn't need another one. Sensing rejection, he paused for a moment to contemplate life.

Ya hurt me, baby. Who am I gonna share my warts with now? Not too mention that special sauce I ooze from my back.mrfrog3_filtered

I took it as an impending threat to jump and promptly hid again underneath the covers, still screaming. He accepted his romantic defeat and proceeded to crawl up Hubby's arm. Maybe Taters would give him a chance?

Get me outta here. This biotch is crazy! The screaming is making me wanna ooze. Ribbit.
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As I screamed for my family to get the *&*% out of my room and to take their monster with them, my lovely children grinned devilishly and stood their ground. Hubby finally took pity on my raspy voice and ordered the kiddos outside with the beast. After a brief conversation, the beast was turned loose in a nearby creek to forever live his days in murky happiness and possibly find his own warty princess.

March 09, 2009

Fuzz, Feathers, & Friendliness ~ The Fortuna Pet Shoppe

When I picked up Taterbug from school today, she informed me that she had a fairly large project/report she was working on. The teacher allowed each of the kids to pick out an animal and I expected hers' to be warm and snuggly. When she told me she was writing about iguanas, I gulped.

I am not a fan of the leathery, cold, slimy, and scaly species nor do I allow any to be kept in my house. I just about had a heart attack last summer when a rather large alligator lizard crept out of a stack a wood and made a beeline across my driveway. Needless to say, I wasn't too excited about her choice in critters. But, it's her report and I decided to make the best of it. After all, I was kinda excited since this is her first "real" project requiring her to put in a lot of time and energy. My little girl is growing up. *Sniff* Next thing you know, it will be a thesis or even her first sci-fi novel. *Double sniff and a snort*

She had all sorts of ideas involving many chunks of clay, pipe cleaners, glitter, and Easter egg grass. My ideas involved crayons and construction paper (so much less vacuuming). Needless to say, we had to have a quick planning and budgeting meeting since we were obviously thinking of two different ideas. It was finally decided (over cherry soda and cookies) we would take a look at the local pet store and see if they had any iguanas. If they did, we would try and capture a couple of shots of the beast.

Our nearest pet store was the Fortuna Pet Shoppe. I hadn't recently been in there (mainly due to Hubby's orders), and was so pleasantly surprised when we walked through the front door. They had a lot of different animals that touched at my various comfort levels eliciting a variety of distances I was willing to breach; fish (nose to tank), rodents (one foot an inch), snakes (fifty feet - aw heck, who am I kidding, I didn't go near the things!), birds (six inches as long as the beak was little and dull), and lizards (three feet - just outside of striking and gross out distance).

The grand prize of the day? A huge female iguana whose name I didn't quite catch. Let's just say I wasn't too thrilled to be that close nor was I interested in taking her home as little Taterbug requested. Barf. I think I wore my first layer of skin away due to my use of antiseptic gel.

Taters held the greenish gray beast until her little heart was content. The cool part was that the store employees were so nice and let us take pictures for as long as we wanted.

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Look at this smile? Who's kid is this? Certainly not mine if she was happy to be holding this thing!

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After oohing and ahhing at the iguana, we took a gander at the baby parrots. Oh. My. Goodness. I just wanted to squeeze their little fluffy goodness. But that would probably hurt them and their beaks looked a tad bit sharp. I have very meaty thumbs and I'd like them to stay that way:

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We saw a hungry parrot who showed us his/her nut cracking abilities:

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And a pair of super cute birds (I think they were also a type of parrot) sharing bath time (should I feel bad for watching?):

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Finally, when I had about all I could take of cuteness, Taterbug begged and pleaded with me to buy her an organic toothbrush. Normally, I'm all for the environment, but I knew Hubby would flip at this natural plaque fighter:

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All in all, we had a great time at the pet shop. The store was clean and the employees were super friendly and extremely helpful. We got some great shots and even better yet, we managed to walk out with no additional animals, so my marriage is still intact. A HUGE THANKS to the Fortuna Pet Shoppe!!!

February 05, 2009

No Fishing!

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Ok ladies, enough is enough already. For the last time, I do not allow fishing in my house. No matter how much you chatter, moan, groan, meow and purr, these little fish are going to stay where they're at. Your claims of wanting fresh fish in your itty bitty kitty diet are going out the window.

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And Piper, just because George the Goldfish makes eye contact with you doesn't mean your friends and it doesn't mean he wants you to hold him. Nice try but keep your kitty paws out of the water.

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January 29, 2009

The Face Of Guilt

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Thank God Hubby only reads my blog when I tell him to. Or when he catches me maniacally laughing and rubbing my hands together like Dr. Evil - since he knows it's probably about him. The above picture is a perfect example of why I'm glad Hubby is in the dark about most of what I write. I know he wouldn't be as impressed to see the kittehs sleeping on our pillows as I was this morning.

Hubby has this little thing called allergies and I guess the sneezing and itchy eyes that come along with Gracie and Piper's shimmering coats don't exactly agree with him. But they looked so friggin' cute this morning that I snapped away and let them sleep. It's hard to see Piper in the background (she's that black blob with white on her chin - her head is turned up in sleeping ecstasy) but it sure looks like Gracie knows she's doing something she probably shouldn't be doing.

January 27, 2009

Stains The Hypnotized Dog

This is pretty funny...

January 24, 2009

Creamsicle

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Miss Gracie is getting so big and her coloring reminds me of a delicious creamsicle. With her size comes more of an oafy clumsiness that I would attribute to a dog's characteristics rather than a dainty kitteh cat. Oh well, I guess she hasn't read the same books I have on the virtues of a feminine feline.

January 22, 2009

Bella -n- Tara

This video will just make you feel good. I promise!

January 11, 2009

Chicken Chatter

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My feathered rat friends are still refusing to lay eggs where I can find them. As you can tell from the picture above, they've now decided to host a chicken social hour (complete with crowing and lots of clucking) on my front porch, mainly due to the cold weather and rain. Normally, they are very content to roost in our trees and wander the property eating bugs and tossed out scratch, but the in climate conditions have put a wet damper on their traversing.

I have plans for a new coop - well, actually their only coop since they've always roosted in the rhody planted right off my front porch - but the weather and my energy level just haven't cooperated for me to build it. I need to take advantage of these sunny yet brisk days to get their condo built. Maybe they'll finally produce some cackleberries and earn their keep.

I know that Henrietta would appreciate it:

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January 08, 2009

A Kitteh Kat Math Equation

What do:

1/2 dozen fuzzy fake mice
plus
One five foot tall cat house
plus
An endless supply of dust bunnies equal?

Not enough fun because they still stole the dice out of the new Monopoly game. Piper tried to act surprised when I confronted her with the chewed on box evidence:

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And this incriminating photo:

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After they stole the dice, they found my camera cord and proceeded to poke little holes in it with their sharp baby teeth.

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Currently, they are climbing my curtains, ears flat back against their head with a wild, spacey look in their eyes. Good grief they are making me tired. I thought Gunny was rambunctious but their extra six legs are really giving me a run for my money.

December 12, 2008

A Purrfect Christmas Present!

I'd like to help you with your Christmas shopping by practically dropping the purrfect thing for a Christmas present into your awaiting lap. Actually, these little critters would probably be more than happy to jump up into your awaiting arms for either a little scratch or some heavy petting if you were to offer a friendly hand (I probably would too, come to think of it).

The first two gifts I'd like to introduce you to were born about four months ago in Freshwater. These two lovely ladies and their two tiny siblings were found alongside the road near the Three Corners Store. They were only three or four weeks old at the time and not even weaned from their momma's milk. Each of the babies had severe upper respiratory infections with crusty eyes and icky noses. Thankfully, they were quickly rescued by Jennifer of the Humboldt Spay and Neuter Network, and immediately placed on a bottle feeding schedule of every four hours plus medication. It took a deworming and three different rounds of antibiotics until the babies were finally given a clean bill of health.

Now, at the ripe old age of four months, they run Jennifer's house, thundering through the living room and playing more like kittens than adolescents. I can personally attest to their fluffy, satiny softness and loving personalities. It's not hard to get a purr out of either one and they even put up with the original Hell on wheels, Gunny.

Jennifer would love to have these little ladies adopted out together:

Lovely Lady #1:

Ready to be adopted!

Ready to be adopted!

Lovely Lady #2:

Ready to be adopted!

Ready to be adopted!

My last purrfect gift suggestion was born as the runt of a litter of six kittens, coldly dumped in the mountains outside of Orick. Jennifer was able to rescue him as well as the momma and his siblings and give them some well deserved love and attention. He's the last of the litter to be adopted and just a handsome little fellow. Jennifer calls him a flame point Siamese; I just call him adorable. He'll be ready for a Christmas adoption:

'Old Blue Eyes:

Ready to be adopted!

Ready to be adopted!

If you'd like to help out this fabulous organization or perhaps even adopt your own furbaby (who comes already wormed,with shots, and spayed or neutered - all for a very reasonable fee), you can call Jennifer at (707) 442-1426. Your generous tax deductible donations can be mailed to the following:

Humboldt Spay/Neuter Network
P.O. Box 7236
Eureka, CA 95502

Support your local kitteh kats!

December 08, 2008

Uterus! Be Gone!

Gosh, my title sounds like either a really good sci-fi story or perhaps a bottle of super cleaner. Maybe even a new chant for the PMS warrior. It's actually in reference to Piper and Gracie, who had their girlie parts removed today. They are currently curled up into little orange and black balls, in a semi-comatose state due to the good stuff they received from Dr. Bob. They don't seem any worse for wear, and in fact, their quietness is a welcome change to their usual spastic attacks on our toes, Christmas tree, and leather couches. Peace has landed - although it's only temporary.

Now don't get me wrong, I love kittehs, especially baby kittehs with their soft fuzzy bellies and little pink noses. And, I'm so thankful we found Piper and Gracie because they've brought so much fun and messy chaos into our lives. However, I'm not an advocate of making your own baby kittehs. For every kitteh adopted into a loving home, there are equally many, if no more, without such luck. Millions of kittehs are euthanized each year and this makes me so sad, especially when a good percentage of those little fellas could have been avoided by just spaying and neutering your pet.

When we got Piper and Gracie, it was never even discussed whether or not we'd have them spayed. It's just the right thing to do. I found an interesting article here that talks about the issue of spaying your critter. Here's some highlights:

Reasons To Spay your Cat

When a cat enters her heat cycle she is very annoying, loud, and messy. Spaying ends the heat cycle.

Spayed cats tend to wander less.

Reduces chances of cat developing mammary cancer, especially if spayed before their first heat cycle.

Prevents a common uterine infection, called pyrometra.

Prevents many cancers, such as uterine, and ovarian cancer, since these parts are removed.

May result in a friendlier, less aloof, cat.

A cat who is not breeding will not catch any feline sexually transmitted diseases. Oh my! Gracie does seem to be a bit on the "friendly" side.

In some areas that require licensing of cats, the fees are lower if a cat is spayed.

Spayed cats have longer lifespans.

No risk of complications during pregnancy, or delivery, such as a costly Caesarian section.

In some areas, pregnant cats are sought after for the purposes of sale for euthanasia to be used for veterinary students for dissection.

The cat will not contribute to the large number of unwanted kittens.

Reasons Not To Spay your Cat

There is a small risk of complication or death during surgery, usually due to reaction to the anesthetic. Veterinarians can test cats for allergies prior to surgery.

A purebred, registered cat, who is an excellent example of the breed, and has attended shows to prove such, may be a good cat for breeding purposes.

Obviously, the pros out way the cons and I hope people will do the right thing by having their kitteh's boy and girlie parts removed. I know it's not cheap (it was a little over $200 for my two to be spayed and then given shots) but there should be resources in your community that can help you out. Just call your local vet or even community pet rescues, and they can give you some ideas.

In the words of Bob Barker, "Help control the pet population. Have your pet spayed or neutered."

December 01, 2008

Christmas Hellions

I love my kittehs, I really do. I thought that getting them before Christmas and watching them experience the ornaments and Christmas decorations would be a blast - and don't get me wrong, it is. But this is what I found the other morning when I woke up:

christmas disaster

Over an eight hour period, they successfully undecorated half of my Christmas tree, broke two ornaments, chomped on several bows, unplugged the Christmas angel, tore up all the red garland (guess that isn't their color), and the worst part? They removed most of the tags from the wrapped presents. Unlike last year where every family member had their own specific wrapping paper, this year was done on a budget and everyone was wrapped the same. Guess what I'll be doing tomorrow? That's right, unwrapping and re wrapping gifts, all the while trying to keep Gunny from "helping" me.

And speaking of Gunny, this year is the first year he's actually realizing what those fantastically wrapped boxes are for. We caught him with a gift, hiding in the corner, quietly telling himself, "I dest gonna wook at it. I dest gonna see wut it is." We were able to prevent him from defiling this gift but the big kids have caught on to his curiosity and are quietly plotting on how to get him or the kittehs to "accidentally" unwrap their presents.

I love Christmas.

November 21, 2008

Humboldt Spay/Neuter Network - Get Your Kitteh On

Now that our home is complete with two little fur babies, I'd like to introduce you to the place that gave Ms. Gracie:

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It's the Humboldt Spay/Neuter Network. I had the pleasure of meeting Jennifer, of the HSNN, when we adopted Gracie. She pretty much runs the show for this great non-profit and I was so impressed when I found out all that she and her organization does for our county's critters. They help to provide low cost spaying and neutering to low income pet owners. They have a homeless cat program where they help monitor feral cat colonies and provide immediate rescue for pets that have been abandoned. They also loan traps and assist with with the trapping and transportation of found kitteh kats. What impressed me the most was they can take in feral kittens and socialize them to the point of being adopting. That's just awesome.

The most awe inspiring part? They do all this without the benefit of governmental support or funding. Through donations of time and money, they make their program work and help happy families happy by giving them loving and healthy critters. Jennifer and her comrades work their tails off to make this critters comfy and happy - something many of these little fellas have never experienced.

When I picked up Gracie last week, Jennifer was fostering a beautiful calico mama cat with five little adorable fuzzballs. Some of the little guys looked like flame point siamese and one was definitely gonna get her Momma's good looks with that gorgeous calico coat. My favorite? A spunky little white and orange fluffy punk that kept attacking my feet. He weighed all but half a pound, soaking wet, but his little attitude was the best. His orange spots were the color of a jack-o-lantern - can you tell I loved him...just a little? Thank goodness they were too young to adopt because I'm sure I'd be signing divorce paperwork right now.

If you'd like to help out this fabulous organization or perhaps even adopt your own furbaby (who comes already wormed,with shots, and spayed or neutered - all for a very reasonable fee), you can call Jennifer at (707) 442-1426. Your generous tax deductible donations can be mailed to the following:

Humboldt Spay/Neuter Network
P.O. Box 7235
Eureka, CA 95502

Support your local kitteh kats!

November 20, 2008

Attack Of The Two Pound Terrors

All day and all night, thump, thump, thump...

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It's nice to see such loving sisters ;-).

November 18, 2008

A Piper Hangover

I didn't realize having a two pound fur baby could cause such a raucous in the house - especially at night time. Piper has decided that it's best to sleep all day because evidently, human flesh tastes that much better in the middle of the night. Poor Taterbug brought me a tweaked out Piper at about 11:30 PM last night. Taterbug looked like a new mom; exhausted and worn and begging for some relief.

"Maaaauuummmm! Please take her! I can't handle it! She won't let me sleep and she keeps attacking my fingers!" At this point, her bottom lip started to tremble and big tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. "I really do love her but I need my sleep."

I had to giggle as I sent her off back to bed. How many times had I muttered the same thing when she and her brothers were babies? I took the black and white devil into my room and let her chew on my fingers and chase my toes until she finally quieted down into a purring mass of fuzzy goodness, right above my head. Hubby wasn't too thrilled about having her in our bed but she was quiet and everyone was finally able to get some rest. All was well.

Poor Taterbug has resorted to taking a brief "cat nap" during the day in order to outlast Piper. I caught them in the act yesterday...

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We'll hopefully be picking up Piper's half-sister today which will perhaps grant us a little more sleep...or even less :-).


November 17, 2008

Piper The Hyper

What do tears, the "puppy dog face," and promises of - well, we won't go there - get you with a kitteh cat hating Hubby?

This! Introducing...Piper the Hyper

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Piper is nine weeks old and the newest addition to our family. She loves fake mice, brightly colored feathers, and midnight play sessions with a sleeping Taterbug.

We will hopefully be getting Piper a fluffy orange half-sister later this week. I don't know who's more excited, me or the kids :-).

November 12, 2008

Who Needs Pockets?

Ewww...this is a little gross but so similar to what my kids would probably do given the chance!

Operation: Kitteh Kat

When Hubby and I were first married, he obliged my maternal sensations by agreeing to let me welcome two kittens (or kittehs, as the Boston boy Gunnah would say) into our lives. We adopted two tiny fluff balls of orange and gray, from a strange man with long hair and a thick accent. It was a little weird but the kittehs were healthy and fat, and it was love at first sight.

Mikey and Zoey, as we named them, made our Christmas so much fun that year. They broke almost every ornament we had, tore up the garland, and ate enough tinsel to make the kitty litter box sparkle in the sun. The kittehs had a strong affection for Hubby's work boots and would leave him "presents" on a daily basis. Torn bits of paper, fake mice, and dead bugs were common treats left for him, deep in the toes of his boots. Far enough that he'd only notice the "gift" after he'd gotten his entire foot in the boot.

The kittehs provided us hours of entertainment and laughs. In the evening, we'd lay in bed with one of our crocheted afghans pulled up over us at an angle. Hubby would run his fingers up and down the blanket as fast as he could go, and the two chubby little assassins would scamper up and down the afghan trying to kill the offending finger tormenting them. Hubby would normally get a few scratches and lose a pint of blood or two, but it was so frickin' cute that it became a nightly ritual.

As the kittehs got older, Hubby's love for them diminished as Mikey ended up being a "sprayer" (and yes, he was fixed) and loved to mark his scent on anything that needed it...the TV, sleeping bags, Hubby's truck seat when the window was left down, and the list goes on and on. Mikey hated Hubby and pretty much let him know it on a daily basis. Zoey, on the other hand, was a space cadet and pretty much did her own thing. If you could catch her, she'd put up with a few pats and a couple of scratches, but she was more content with just hunting and sleeping.

After having babies and moving into a new house many years later, Zoey ended up living with my parents and their bazillion other kittehs. Mikey refused to go with the program and repeatedly ran away back to our old house where he currently lives with the new owners and I believe is still doing well.

We've been kitteh-less for a little over three years and believe me, I've been having serious withdrawals. I love the feeling of a warm, soft, purring body snuggled up next to me on a cold winter night. Hubby says he can purr for me and he is sorta fuzzy and soft but it's just not the same. I miss having kitteh prints on my car and seeing that familiar streaky look on the windshield, when you know they lost their footing and made a death slide. Most importantly, I feel for my kids who are missing out on the experience of owning and raising a kitteh that could be a lifetime friend to them and a ton of enjoyment especially since the tantalizing Christmas tree will be going up in the next few weeks.

I keep asking myself, why don't I just go out and satisfy my cravings for a whiskery little beast? I did it with the goat - OK, maybe that's not the best example. Oh, and I did buy dozens of fertile eggs, hatched a bunch of roosters, but then again, not the best example....Ultimately, Hubby has decided that he hates kittehs and says it's him or them. While I love the guy, I will miss him when he's gone....Just kiddin'. But I still want the fuzzy little beasts. I've been surfing through all the local pet adoption sights and then leaving them up in the hopes that Hubby will take note of my strong yearning. So far it's not working too well. I even have Taters and C-dub on the bandwagon, working their best "puppy dog" face but the turd is impermeable to the "look" and his heart beats cold toward the feline creature. I still have time before Christmas to make our critter dreams come true. I'm just not sure how to sway his anti-kitteh mind.

And here's some gratuitous kitteh shots:

funny pictures of cats with captions
more animals

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more animals

funny pictures of cats with captions
more animals

November 09, 2008

For Gump - Spiders And Snakes

Gump, it was actually Jim Stafford - at least the version I could find.

For your viewing enjoyment:

November 08, 2008

Gas Attack

My fish tank has recently taken on a beautiful shade of green due to an anorexic plecostomus and a bunch of snails that decided to croak. Although the green is quite pretty, it's not so appetizing sitting on my kitchen counter looking like it might harbor the creature from the Black Lagoon. After receiving many complaints, I finally loaded the kids up and we drove to Eureka today to buy our fish a girlfriend, or boyfriend - because I'm not quite sure how to sex a fish.

When we got to the store, Taters and I walked to the fish section while C-dub and his little buddy, J-dub, walked over to look for tarantulas. I refuse to look at spiders and reminded C-dub that the only spiders in my house were the ones I couldn't reach with my Dyson. I know they do a good job of eating bugs and such, but they still creep me out and their Halloween reprieve is over.

While Taters and I were looking, a very nice clerk walked up and offered to help us find the perfect fish. She showed us a tank where a friendly little plecostomus was quietly sucking on a plastic leaf, slowly eyeballing us with his little fishy eye. He looked a little irked that we were potentially considering removing him from his watery domain and I swear I saw him try to sequester himself deeper into the tank.

As the clerk fished around with her net in the tank, the following conversation ensued:

Clerk: Oops! I think I may have subjected you ladies to a little gas attack. She continues to try and catch the fish while Taters and I give each other "the look." We thought the tank was going to explode. Are gas attacks a normal occurrence in freshwater tanks?
Taters: What do you mean? I'm glad she was brave enough to ask.
Clerk: Oh hon, you know! When you eat too many re fried beans? That funny feeling? I just passed a little stinky, that's all. The clerk kept her perky gaze at the fish tank, not even batting an eye as she finally captured the fish and took it out of the tank. Taters begins starting at me; half a smile on her shocked face.
Mommazilla: Taking the high road, I whisper to Taters, She just floated an air biscuit? Is that what she said? I couldn't quite believe that an adult had announced such a thing. My kids, yes, but someone I don't know? Not so much.
Taters: Shrugging and whispering back, I think so?
The clerk continues her quest in containing our perfect specimen. She then adds some icing onto the putrid sulfur cake she's baked.
Clerk: My friend had a dog once and blamed the smell on him. But it wasn't the dog! She begins chuckling at her funny story and I see Taters slowly back up, trying to avoid any smell that might have emanated from her odoriferous rump.

As she hands me the bag I notice that the fish is no longer moving, in fact, it's belly up. I point this out to the clerk and she's beside herself. She quickly replaces the fish with another little fellow and tells us that the victim fish probably died from the shock of getting caught. I dunno, but I think her gas attack and the dieing fish are strangely coincidental.

It was a strange, surreal moment, as I paid for the fish and left the store with the kiddos (sans Tarantula, thank you very much). We had quite a few laughs about our "gas attack" experience on the return drive. I'm also happy to report that the little fellow did make it home in one piece and is now happily sucking the green goo from the midst of my tank. By morning, I hope to be able to see his other finned cohorts through the gaps in the algae.

The below fish is a plecostomus, in case you were interested.

Plecostamus Pictures, Images and Photos

October 28, 2008

Homefront Hostage

cuteness

Gunny and I are currently being held hostage in our home by a one-horned goat from Hell. Yes, Chico has returned and he's evidently pretty pissed off about being given away. He's back with a vengeance and an appetite for destruction - just like Guns N' Roses back in '87.

I swear I heard him bleating these lyrics:

Welcome to the jungle
It gets worse here everyday
Ya learn ta live like an animal
In the jungle where we play
If you got a hunger for what you see
You'll take it eventually
You can have anything you want
But you better not take it from me

I hear him, pacing back and forth on my front porch, knocking on my front door with his one horn, and attacking the Halloween decorations. He's gonna kill my beautiful scarecrow and not even bat an eye about the mayhem he's causing.

Chico arrived back in our yard last night and made his presence known as I walked out to my car to go to photo class. I actually ran, because once he saw me, he did this funky sideways buck and threw his head back clearly exposing that crazy eye he has. You wanna see it? Are you really sure? Don't look into it too long or he may take it as a challenge and attack:

chicoeye

For those of you not familiar with this beast, check out this posting for a complete explanation of how the albino demon was born. Followed by this posting of how we ended up finding out he's the devil in a white fur coat.

When I think about it, having Chico back has given me some opportunity to reminisce about things, like:

The joys of a clean front porch...

stinkeye

Beautiful rose bushes...

pruned

Happy chickens...

zeke

Scary Jack O' Lanterns...

jackonuthin

None of these I have any more - hence my reminiscing.

I tried to make friends with Chico this morning by offering him some bread and a handful of baby carrots. I apologized profusely and reminded him that his new home was wonderful and he was obviously benefiting from the new diet judging by his voluptuous figure. Rut roh, he didn't like that comment so much. I guess even goats get insulted about their weight. He then came after me with the crazy eye:

fatso

Yeeeeeouchhhhh! And he connects!

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I'm not a violent person and I don't like to hurt anything but he's made me resort to obtaining a weapon to defend myself and family:

weapon

That's right, Cheeks, I have a garden hose filled with the chilliest of well water, and I'm not afraid to use it.

I'm Dirty Harriet, "You've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk?"

I think his luck has just ran out.

October 27, 2008

I'm A Grandma Of The Insect Kind.

Our little butterfly buddies hatched (yesterday and today) and we released them this afternoon. I wasn't quite sure how they would hatch since I'm familiar with how chicks and ducklings hatch out of normal size eggs. The butterflies actually hatched really fast and I was surprised at how much blood (or at least red goo) came out of the chrysalis. It was a really neat experience and the kids enjoyed it.

If you're interested in trying to be a foster butterfly parent, here's the link to the kit we bought. You get the special enclosure and a then send off for the caterpillars.

Here's some pics of the grand release celebration:

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And of course, C-dub is learning the fine art of terrorizing your older sister. She had no clue he was behind her throwing as many rabbit ears as possible:

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October 23, 2008

We're Expecting Quints!

Baby butterflies to be

My ovaries have been hurting for awhile; hence the chicks, ducklings, borrowed kittehs and now baby butterflies. Hubby still hasn't gotten over the shock of having a Gunny and doesn't want to tempt fate with a fourth little monster. He's slowly coming around to the idea that I want another baby but I think he's secretly hoping that the numerous critters we collect will pacify my ever ticking biological clock.

Sorry babe - tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock...it's still clicking away.

Our newest critters (Painted Lady butterflies) are due in a couple of days. It's been pretty neat watching them as caterpillars and then each form into a chrysalis. I'm excited to see them hatch but even more excited to know that I won't be cleaning any crappy cages or chasing the little monsters at night to get them caged. It's the little things in life that I'm thankful for - even if I'm usually the one creating my own headaches.

September 28, 2008

Daddy's Bringing Home The Backstrap!

Over the weekend, Hubby took the boys and Grandpa D out to our hunting property. It's closing weekend for rifle season and our last opportunity to cut a load of wood before the chill of winter sets in. It's also the last weekend that my boys will get a chance to hunt alligator lizards and roll around in the dirt for three days without the required daily shower.

While our property is plentiful of downed trees and firewood, it's not so giving with the deer population. Sure, we have a lot of deer roaming around, but unfortunately, the ones that like to be seen are of the feminine nature. It's not uncommon for our family to go years without shooting a nice buck or even seeing prospects for future hunting seasons. But like I've said before, hunting trips aren't just about the hunting.

However, Hubby broke the cycle this weekend by bagging this big boy:

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Did you count those points? Yep, it's a four by four.

I'm not a venison eater but my family is. They all enjoy a good barbecued piece of backstrap and a well seasoned batch of jerky. This big guy will be feeding at least three families and I thank him for it. I also thank him for the ego boost and testosterone injection he gave to my Hubby who hasn't bagged a buck in several years.

September 27, 2008

Ninja Kitteh's Cousin

September 22, 2008

It's A Spidah!

Gunny hates spidahs. He proclaims this whenever we walk by one or his hand touches the remnants of a web in a window sill. I think they're pretty cool and I was able to capture this one on our front porch:

Spidah!

And the same web, with a spookier look:

Spidah 2!

And just to let you know:


September 21, 2008

How Do You Catch A Polar Bear?

Over the weekend, Hubby took both grandpas and the chitlins' out to our hunting cabin in the Mattole Valley. They claim it's a "hunting" trip but in all reality, the only thing they bring back is a load of firewood and a lot of crushed beer cans. I don't mind because it's all about the family time and I truly appreciate the fact that my kids get to enjoy such a great bonding experience with both their grandpas and dad.

Hubby shared with me a story that happened over dinnertime. The family had settled into a nice dinner which included a disgusting can of peas that Grandpa Dale tried to convince the kids to eat. Even Hubby agreed that the peas resembled baby food more than something delicious and edible. While the kids whined their way through dinner, Papa Tom thought he'd lighten the mood with a little joke.

Papa Tom: Hey kids, do you know how to catch a polar bear?
Kids: Intrigued. No, how?
Papa Tom: You cut a hole in the ice.
Kids: Yeah.
Papa Tom: Then you take these here green peas and sprinkle them around the hole.
Kids: Huh? Clearly confused, they keep listening.
Papa Tom: When the polar bear comes in to take a peak, you kick him in the ice hole.

The kids erupted into tremendous laughter and there wasn't a dry eye in the house. C-dub seemed to enjoy the joke the most as he had big, fat tears rolling down his chubby little cheeks. I don't know that he necessarily understood it, but the whole idea that it sounded like a naughty word and you got to kick a bear in the big 'ole butt was enough to do him in.

Cute joke. I just hope C-dub doesn't repeat it on Friday Share Day.


September 19, 2008

Curse Of The Black Ninja Kittehs

I'm done. Between the bratty boys and the bear, I've had it up to HERE defending my orchard. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I've resorted to hiring two uber secretive ninja type warriors, to defend my property. They allowed me one hour to take a few photos of them at work, as they are currently really busy preparing to shoot their first movie, "Curse of the Black Ninja Kittehs." Any sort of distraction from their deadly art of war could prove to be fatal.

Stealth Kitteh:

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Quiet reflection before the destruction begins:

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Sharpening the paw knives:

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Leisurely stroll or walk of impending destruction?

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A rare close-up of the handsome Ninja Kitteh Nico:

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Another rare close-up of the beautiful Ninja Kitteh Eva:

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Investigating the next target of her fury:

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Establishing an orchard command post:

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Protecting one of their charges:

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Did I just hear an enemy?

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Putting up with a heavy petting - it's all part of the job:

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Gunny wuvs his "borrowed" ninja kittehs:

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Dear Yogi,

It has come to my attention that you are thoroughly enjoying the french prunes in my orchard. Yes, those little purple gems are delicious and sweet as candy. My little ones enjoy them as well. Just ask Gunny. He ate so many last week that he got the runs.

frenchprunes

Anyhoo, dearest Yogi, I would respectfully ask you to abide by the signs I have lawfully placed around my property. They are posted for your protection and mine.

keepout

No, they were not originally met for you but for the little heathens who were stealing my fruit. However, I have found that you are way worse than those little schats. You're teeth are much bigger, you're claws are much sharper, and by far the worse part, you're incontinent.

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Do you really have to steal from me and then rub in the fact that you did so by leaving me landmines in the orchard? Didn't Boo Boo or Ranger Smith teach you anything? Or did you leave landmines all over Jellystone Park? Good grief, Yogi, wear a diaper for crap's sake. Gunny about sank to his knees when he accidentally stepped on one of your "accidents."

And Yogi, don't think for a second that I didn't notice the treat you left us on the road. That was stinkin' rude and I think I may have popped a car tire when I hit it thinking it was an innocent, dry meadow muffin.

bearpoop1

In summary, Yogi, I really like you and wish only the best for you. I just would like you to live your peaceful way of life outside the boundries of my orchard. Please don't eat my fruit and leave me gifts in return; it's just not proper. I would never do that in your forest haven - primarily because I like running water and have the luxury of opposable thumb usage. I would love to have a pleasant relationship with you as a neighbor but you have to remember to do your part.

Kthxbai?

Mommazilla

September 08, 2008

Oh Deer...

The deer are back and enjoying the bounty of my apple trees. They've also discovered the joy of a good butt and body rub on my kids' swingset.

deer_filtered

ohdeer

September 05, 2008

I Wuv You Kittehs

I woke up today to the sound of something scampering up the trees in my front yard. I squinted and tried looking through the mass of alders thinking that the sound came from the little squirrels who live in my orchard and dry creek bed. I then saw them - attacking each other and the trees like little mountain lions; two adorable little black kitties and they meant business.

Gunny saw them too and he let out a shriek, "Kittehs! I wuv kittehs Momma! Hold'em, hold'em, wight now!" I had to call him back as he ran as fast as his chubby little legs would take him. He was on a mission and I didn't want it to end in scratches or tears. Besides, I didn't know if they were feral cats dumped on our property by some lazy loser jerk.

As we got closer, I softy called to them, trying to get their attention. They both eyeballed me but didn't run- good sign. They slowly started walking towards Gunny and I and as my foot kicked a small branch, the little one with a white speck on her chest quickly jumped for the offending stick. She tackled it with great fierceness and then proceeded to kick the crap out of the "perp" she had "collared." It was hilarious. Her ferocious kicking and biting caught the attention of the other little kitty and her partner in crime quickly ran over to also tackle the vicious branch.

Once they were done, the kitties sat on a downed log and stared at Gunny and I. When they were sufficiently satisfied that we were not going to attack them like the stick, they carefully walked up to me and allowed me to give them a few gentle rubs and scratches behind the ears. The pure black one allowed me to scoop her up for a quick moment and I noticed that she was in great shape with a sweet little round face and equally round belly. Their coats were sleek and shiny and their green eyes were bright and clear. They had been obviously cared for by someone and were possibly just making their rounds in the neighborhood.

Gunny was ecstatic about the "kittehs." He professed his "wuv" for them as he gently patted them on the head. I asked Gunny if he wanted to give the "kittehs" a treat and after he screamed, "Yes!" we crept inside the house to abscond with a can of white albacore. Hubby was not happy about this as he is no lover of the feline generation. However, the huge smile on Gunny's face eventually shut him up.

We gave the loaner "kittehs" a can of albacore and gave them a few more heavy petting sessions until I decided it was time to wash our hands. I have no idea if they're going to stay or if they belong to a neighbor, but I'm secretly hoping they'll find our house to be a great place to live. I'm not sure how the chickens will like that but until the feathery buggers start laying eggs where I can find them, their opinion doesn't count.

August 25, 2008

Yoda

I want a four-eared cat!


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August 20, 2008

Da Bears

I happened to look out in my orchard the other day, only to notice a group of bratty bicyclists trespassing and stealing fruit from my orchard. I can overlook the occasional sampling of an apple or peach, but these little turds were taking peaches by the handful, and chucking them at each other. They were not enjoying the peachy little orbs of sunshine the way Mother Nature intended and they were stealing from me. Not a good combination.

After telling my children to put on their earmuffs, I spewed a load of profanities to let them know they were on private property and I didn't appreciate their peach fight. Call me cranky but these peaches were meant for my family and friends - not the little heathens who obviously had no respect for the property of others. I watched the boys scamper off and ride their bikes up into my neighbor's driveway and then down into their front yard as they obviously felt there was some sort of bicycle path established for their ease of travel.

Later that night, I marched the family over to the orchard and we picked all the ripe peaches and noticed the mess the boys had made. It really pissed me off to see the mess of squished peach goo and it also concerned me. Rotten fruit attracts animals - and I'm not talking about butterflies and bunnies. I'm not too fond of Yogi and I certainly don't want him and his "pic-a-nic" at my house.

My worries about the urus americanus came true last night as my headlights hit a large black creature scampering across the street into my neighbor's house; and no, it wasn't a bunny. The bear wasn't huge but big enough to scare the crap out of me and honk my horn until Hubby would turn on the porch light. I know he's probably more afraid of me that I have of him but I've got plenty of body fat to feed him for a couple of days and he looked mighty hungry.

I am now trying to be diligent with our downed fruit but I can't help the blackberries. Oh the delicious blackberries that are now sitting in my fridge begging to be eaten, thanks to Taterbug's diligence in picking:

blackberry_filtered_filtered

As much as I love the blackberries, so do all the critters. I'm doing what I can to protect myself and property but tis the season of bounty and the bears and other scary critters are well aware of this. Do what you can to protect yourself too. Here's a coupla things we've done:

* Pick up and discard all downed fruit.
* If your BBQ'er is outside, keep the grill clean of burnt items.
* Secure your garbage cans - talk about a smorgasbord for a hungry bear.
* Keep your windows and doors closed so that you don't have a nighttime visitor.

Here's an excellent resource if you want to learn more.

Be careful! Visit the da bears at da zoo rather than at your house!

bearwatch_filtered
(Sequoia Park Zoo - Is that bear real?!)

August 12, 2008

A Quacktacular Overload!

Wow! I can't believe my ducklings are just about six weeks old and they look so different!

From this:

lomoducks_filtered

To this:

duck7

duck5

duck3

duck2

duck1

duck6

I believe we have two drakes and one hen but I'm not 100% positive yet. I'm definately not up to date on duck sexing 101, so I'm judging by color only. They happily roam our yard during the day and we tuck them away in their cage at night. They're also starting to get their quacks going, but right now, they're reminiscent of Peter Brady. The drakes have beautiful shades of emerald green, cobalt blue, and teal in their wings and the little hen is a beautiful snowy white. They are so much fun to watch waddle around and swim in their little pool.

Thanks for looking!

July 24, 2008

Ducky Sinatra

Gettin' Dry

Come fly with me, lets fly lets fly away
If you can use, some exotic booze
Theres a bar in far bombay
Come fly with me, well fly well fly away

Come fly with me, lets float down to peru
In lama land, theres a one man band
And hell toot his flute for you
Come fly with me, well float down in the blue

Once I get you up there, where the air is rarefied
Well just glide, starry eyed
Once I get you up there, Ill be holding you so near
You may here, angels cheer - because were together

Weather wise its such a lovely day
You just say the words, and well beat the birds
Down to acapulco bay
Its perfect, for a flying honeymoon - they say
Come fly with me, well fly well fly away

~Frank Sinatra as sung by Daffy

July 19, 2008

I Shot My First Buck...And Then Two More!

Figuratively speaking, of course. It's been invasion of the deer this week and three beautiful bucks have taken up residency in my orchard. They are engorging themselves on my baby apples and plums, much to my dismay.

Here's the little guy:

The baby of the bunch

Here's the medium sized one:

What a handsome man!

And finally, the big Daddy:

King of my orchard

There is also a beautiful doe with two speckly fawns hanging out in my neighbors yard. It's really neat to see. My poor husband, on the other hand, it starting to get a serious case of buck fever and these walking pieces of backstrap aren't helping!

July 13, 2008

Big Surprises Come In Small Packages

One of my favorite hens went missing about a month ago. Because of where we live, I figured that she had become the unfortunate victim of a hungry raccoon family. Imagine my surprise when I found this:

IMG_7990_filtered

And this:

IMG_7991_filtered

And a little more fuzzy goodness for good measure:

IMG_7981_filtered

IMG_7993_filtered

We are now the proud owners of three adorable little yellow chicks and two black chicks. Mother and babies are doing well :-), and grandma is still in shock.

July 11, 2008

Daisy, Daffy & Huey

Some current picks of my teenagers:

Daisy, Daffy & Huey

IMG_7944

July 08, 2008

And The Winners Are...

SOOC Shot - Needs A little Editing

After much arguing, name calling, and wrastling, these are the names we chose:

* Daisy
* Daffy
* Huey

Although, I do admit pushing strongly for Aunt Dina's recommendation of Donnie, Jordan, and Joey - my kids have no taste or clue as to the greatness of the NKOTB.

Since the kids picked multiple names we have multiple winners!

********************************************************************************************************************************************
It's close to my bedtime, but I didn't want to forget to contribute so for now all I've got is Huey, Duey and Luey! :-)

Posted by: Joyce | June 30, 2008 09:38 PM
********************************************************************************************************************************************
1) Daffy
2) Daisy
3) Duke

Posted by: Jennifer Potter | July 1, 2008 05:16 AM
********************************************************************************************************************************************
Huey
Dewey
and
Louie

Posted by: Rae | July 1, 2008 06:42 AM
********************************************************************************************************************************************
Well it depends what angle you want to take..... but the easy one's are

-Daffy
-Donald
and Scrouge

However the martini in me want to call them,
-Jose
-Jack
and -Jim =)

Posted by: Martini | July 4, 2008 01:59 PM
********************************************************************************************************************************************

If you are a winner (or I have FUBAR'd) and screwed up any of the names, please e-mail me your name and address at so I can ship you your fantabulous prize :-):

rockyweeds at yahoo dot com (please make sure to replace the "at" and "dot" with the appropriate signs. I don't need anymore spammy Viagra or Cialis e-mails).

Once again, thanks to everyone who stopped by and entered!

Duck Naming Results...

Will be posted today. I promise. My five-month old laptop decided to take a crap on me yesterday and is now in the computer hospital. After spending three hours in ICU with it, my family was worn out ;-).

July 03, 2008

Name These Ducks And Win A Prize! Don't Forget To Vote!

The kids have nicknamed the ducklings Feisty, Spike, and Cutie. I think the names sound reminiscent of the "Flavor of Love" galz - not necessarily a good thing:

the flavor of love

So I need your help. Give our ducklings a name! With the help of my favorite retired Avon lady, I have put together a prize package guaranteed to keep you gorgeous during these hot summer months. Oh yeah, if you live in Humboldt, I'll be sure and include an umbrella and a scarf.

Gift Bag

The rules are simple; leave a comment with your three (3) names. In a week (next Monday the 7th), my family will choose the winning names. If we like multiple names then we may just choose to hyphenate and award more than one prize - I've got a lot of junk to giveaway :-). And don't worry, it will not include anything that chirps, tweets, or growls.

Here's some current pics of the little ones, just for inspiration:

Ducks On The Run (you'd run too if you had a 30 lb. toddler chasing you)
Ducks on the run

Momma Duck
Momma duck

Green Grass Adventures
Three amigos

Gettin' Big!
Getting Big!

Thanks for lookin' and don't forget to have your name entry in by next Sunday (the 6th) night. We'll pick and announce the winning entry(ies) on Monday (the 7th).

June 30, 2008

This Is What You Get When The Goat Moves...

This is what you get when the goat moves.

Roses! After two years of daily pruning sessions, my roses are producing beautiful and scented flowers. I can't wait to add more colors but for now, I'm thrilled with what I 'm seeing.

June 25, 2008

Bathing Beauties

I was going to wait until this weekend to introduce the ducklings to their first bath, but they discovered their water dish on their own and were going to town.

I first experimented with a rubber and plastic shallow lid not knowing if they'd like that much water at one setting. The ducklings loved it and would use the lid like a slip and slide and splash all the water out. Since I had a couple of extra pie plates handy, I decided to donate one for the duckling bath since it's low sides and shallow depth would make for an excellent wading pool.

Our guess was right and they made such a huge mess splashing and diving into the water. It was so fun to watch them play and learn how to "fish" for the food (and poop!) particles they left in the water. Here are some shots from today's first bath:

Bathing Beauties

Bathing Beauties

Bathing Beauties

Bathing Beauties

The below duckling was the smallest of the three. She/he is now the same size as the bigger two. It's amazing how fast they grow!

Bathing Beauties

After a hard day of bathing and playing, I left them alone with their Penguin Webkinz Momma. It was a good day had by all.

Snoozin' after a bath

June 24, 2008

Three Ducks And A Penguin

Three stooges

I'm so glad yesterday is done and over with. I can't say that I'd ever want to hatch call ducks again. They're absolutely adorable but such a pain in the butt to deal with during the incubating and hatching process.

Out of the five eggs, we have three healthy ducklings. The two that passed had a very difficult time hatching and I eventually had to help them out. I explained to he kids that I didn't think they were going to make it and they were able to say their goodbyes before the little fellows passed on. We're going to have a ducky funeral in our orchard tonight.

The remaining three ducklings are doing great and have really started taking on a personality of their own. As you can can in the photo, I've placed a stuffed penguin in the cage. No, I'm not trying to confuse them, but after having raised chicks, I know that sometimes the little ones like having the stuffed animal there for extra warmth and protection. As long as they don't start asking to go to Antartica, I think we'll be safe!

They get their first swimming lesson this weekend. They've already discovered that their watering dish is big enough for a quick dip!

The smallest (and my favorite) duckling:

The littlest duck

June 23, 2008

Did You Lose Your Cat?

Check here if you did.

What A Difference A Day Makes!

Two down, three to go. The call ducks look awesome and are settling into an eggless life :-).

Our little little one

What a difference a day makes!

June 22, 2008

I'm A Grandma!

Hatching call duck egg

Almost there!

Almost there...

Yeah!

Well, sorta. The call duck eggs have started hatching and we are so excited! We candled the hatching silkie eggs last night and unfortunatey, three of the four eggs did not make it. I put the remaining egg in with the call duck eggs in the hopes that the higher humidity might soften the shell a bit, making for easier hatching. I'm not so convinced that this little chickie fella is gonna make it.

It's crazy how one night the little chicks are moving like crazy and then the next night, they've passed on. After having hatched several batches of eggs, I've come to expect lots of death because it's a sad part of the hatching process. No one can take the place of a momma duck or a little broody hen - not even three anxious kids and a hovering Mommazilla.

The other four call duck eggs have not starting "pipping" but you can see the eggs moving and hear soft chirping - both excellent signs of an impending hatch. If all goes well, we'll have five quackers by morning and lots more pictures to come :-).

An Affair to Remember

** One more re-post for ya. Once I find my nose that ran away with my youth, I promise to post something absolutely inspiring and uber creative. Well, don't get your hopes up too high - it'll probably be about chickens. **

He saw her as soon as she pulled into the driveway, admiring how the sun played off of her short blond hair and cast a golden hue on her cherubic face. He had first met her a few months back, exchanging nothing but quick sordid glances that appeared to leave both parties in a state of attraction. He knew he loved her from the moment he saw her and he could only imagine that she returned the feelings he held so strongly. Yes, they were from different worlds, opposite ends of the spectrum, but he knew that they could make it work with a little determination and a great deal of passion.

She saw him watching, leering if you will, and she immediately put up her guard. She didn't trust this fellow nor did she return the sentiment she could see oozing from his eyes. As she got out of her car he immediately approached her, keeping his distance all the while, but steadily holding her gaze with his caramel colored eyes. She slowly approached the house, as to not break his searing gaze nor anger him by appearing disinterested. He followed her, closely, and she could feel his hot breath on backs of her bare legs. She turned around to look at him, giving him a silent warning to hold his distance. She was a woman to be reckoned with and he needed to know this.

He saw her glance back at him and this just excited him more. She was only playing hard to get and he was sick of playing these mind games with her. He had always been well loved amongst the females and this time surely was no different. He knew that he needed to make his move and with one swift jump he grabbed her from behind, breathing hotly in her ear. She immediately reached back to push him away, denying the burning lust that he felt so strongly for her.

As she broke into a sprint towards the front door, he chased her, shrieking for her to stop and to give into the feelings she surely had for him. She continued to run, clutching the back of her right thigh and crying out in pain. He could see blood streaming down her leg and he suddenly realized that in his urgent yearning, he had accidentally injured his lover's leg. The site of her blood strangely exited him and urged him on even more in his quest for her favor. The chase continued for another few moments until she breeched the threshold of the house and promptly slammed the door in her suitor's face. He sat there for a moment, completely shocked at the rejection she had presented him with. He knew that she was someone who could be the mother of his children; the woman of his dreams; how could she not realize that?

He sat there for a few moments, silently listening to her screaming and endless profanities that he assumed were directed towards him. He would wait and hope that she would soon calm down and understand how important his longing was for her. Time was on his side and she would learn to love him back in time.

She looked out onto the front porch and saw the rooster still sitting there, perched on the ledge like an evil gargoyle. He was staring in the window piercing her with his beady little eyes, still full of lust. Her thigh was throbbing from where his spurs had barbed her and she calculated that she might need a few stitches if not a tetanus shot. She was beyond angry and swore vengeance against that damn rooster who took great pleasure in chasing her whenever she stopped by to visit her beloved grandchildren. No more could this rooster rule the driveway and residence, causing grief to her and any other person who chose to walk up the driveway. She had a twenty two caliber solution to the horny rooster problem and she just needed nap time in order to enact her plan.

Once the kids were settled snug in their beds, she slowly crept outside clutching the grips of the gun. The rooster, perked up by her presence, immediately began to do a throaty crow, in an attempt to impress his temptress. He began to slowly walk towards her, displaying his regal feathers as he knew that she was surely impressed with his handsome physique. As he approached her, she tightly squeezed the grip of the gun in her sweaty palms. The pressure on the trigger built up and was released in a spray of pure, unfiltered sulfur smelling well water that blasted him in the face and body. He quickly drew back, in an attempt to breathe through the pounding of water. Realizing that a hasty retreat would more than likely be the only way to save his life from a watery grave, he flew across the yard to the safety of the orchard.

It was that moment when their relationship ended. He realized that the love he had for her was one-side and would never to be returned. His heart ached for her but he knew that he had to go on. There were more ladies in the barnyard but none that had the legs that Grandma D had, nor the cougar qualities that he craved in such an attractive hen.

This sad story of impossible love is a true one; lived out in our barnyard. Our heroine was ultimately faced with a tetanus shot, a butterfly bandage of her wound, and a large doctor's office copay. Our hero later met his fate with a dose of lead poisoning as he tried to molest the mail lady, UPS driver and Schwan’s guy. He had so much love to give but just didn't know how to give it. Rest in peace horny rooster.

June 20, 2008

She's A Lover, Not A Fighter

Roxanne

Can't you tell by her tongue? This is Roxanne and she is a frisky little boxer belonging to one of my good friends. Her "mom" and I took a walk through the park last week and then she posed for glamor shots. Gotta love a doggie smile on a sunny day.

June 17, 2008

If It Quacks Like A Duck...

Call Ducks To Be

...let's hope it hatches. Babies are due this weekend. Keep your fingers crossed for a smooth and quick delivery.

Yes, I know, I originally had them due today but I finally took off my shoes and did the appropriate math only to realize I was off by four days. The little eggs are moving around quite a bit so I'm thinking they may be a little early.

June 02, 2008

We Have Babies!

We candled tonight and discovered eight bouncing baby call duck embryos. The eggs have been incubating for just about a week and they look fabulous. I was previously warned that call ducks are extremely hard to hatch and that you have to have the temperature and humidity just right. So far, the experts have been right and I've been going crazy trying to regulate everything. I really hope all our hard work pays off and we have babies around the 17th.

Egg candling

The dark splotch is the embryo and the red wormy things are veins. The "X" on the shelf is to help me determine if they have been "turned" yet. You have to turn the little buggars several times a day in order that the embryo doesn't affix itself to the interior of the shell. This can cause major deformaties and problems for the embryo.

Egg candling

Another shot of the same egg. Notice that really dark dot? I believe that's an eyeball.

Call ducks were originally bred as live decoys. With a super loud "quack" they would "call" the wild ducks in for hunters (hence the name "call ducks"). They are quite a bit smaller than normal ducks but their quack is even louder than a normal duck. If you'd like to learn more about call ducks, visit here.

We'll be periodically candling the eggs and I'll post pics as they *hopefully* progress.

May 30, 2008

Can I Brush Ewe?

Can I Brush Ewe?

Poor Gun-Gun. Whatsa guy gotta do in order to get a little love from the critters? All he wanted to do was give the goats a little brushin' and some lovin'. But they just weren't havin' it. But do you blame them? He looked a little, err, aggressive with his plastic brushes...

Can I Brush Ewe?

When the goats wouldn't cooperate, he decided to investigate the brushes further. The brushes kinda looked like shoes. I wonder if they'd fit?

Can I Brush Ewe?

Nope, no such luck. Cinderella he is not.

Can I Brush Ewe?

The ladies banded together and refused to allow Gun-Gun to perfect his grooming skillz.

Victims

She was willing to partake in a good brushin', but Gun-Gun didn't like the looks she was throwing.

Smooch!

So Gun-Gun left the barnyard, empty handed and hairless. In order to perk himself up, he wandered through a nearby park and found someone much more interestin' and a lot cuter. And, she let him brush her piggy tails when he asked - just not with the goat's plastic comb.

Love
The end.

Can I Take Your Ordah?

Can I take your order?

I can't believe I forgot to leave this little lady out of yesterday's top three. She was very friendly and more than willing to belly up at the bar and slam a few rootbeers down with her new preschoolian friends. For some odd reason, she did remind me of "Flo" from the old show "Alice." I half expected her to tell us to "kiss her grits" during our attempts to capture her beauty on film. She's a looker, don'tcha think?

May 29, 2008

Top Three Reasons To Go To The Sequoia Park Zoo Barnyard...

Today, I had the pleasure of visiting the Sequoia Park Zoo with my son's preschool class. While some of the more exotic type animals were neat enough, what really won the kids over was the barnyard area. After the inital, "Oohhh! It stunks in heyah!" (from Gun-Gun), and the warning to Gun-Gun not to eat any raisinettes he might find on the ground, we were ready to go. Here's our top three reasons of why you should immediately drop what your doing (that is unless it's after business hours and then you might be committing a criminal violation) and walk - no RUN - to the zoo:

3. Lovin' Llamas
The draw of potentially getting your fingers nibbled on or perhaps a wad of chewed cud being spat at you, is too overpowering to pass up. Thankfully, neither happened to our little group and all made it out with ten fingers and ten toes. And the llama suffered no ill effects as a result of our inspection.

Llama Love

2. The Butt Scratchin' Goat
This goat must have the itchiest butt in Humboldt County. She itched that thing for at least 15 minutes. The preschooler's thought it was hysterical and I just hoped she wouldn't rub on me - in case it was worms rather than just a case of dandruff.

The butt scratcher extraordinaire.

And last, but certainly not least, the most important reason that you need to FLY down to the Sequoia Park Zoo Barnyard:

1. Goat With An Underbite
Once you look at these pictures, I almost won't even need to write anything. This poor goat needs an orthodontist in a major way. This nanny had a perpetual smile on her face and I was a little freaked out at first until I realized it was all cosmetic and not the result of a Prozac saltlick. To top it all off, as nasty as her underbite was, she had an equally fierce rectum of fiery. She was letting off the nastiest smelling alfalfa and grain air biscuits that one could handle. As a class, we decided that she was a major contributor to the world's global warming problem due to her personal donation of methane. But she was cute and let me scratch her ears.

Cheese! He needs an orthodontist.

Hopefully these top three entrants have enthralled you enough to skedaddle on down to the zoo. They have done some awesome improvements to the exhibits and I know that our kiddos today were thoroughly impressed. Have fun and watch out for Underbite!

Edited to add: I would be remiss if I didn't warn you to be a little cautious when exploring the zoo grounds due to some some animals wandering loose. I'm not sure if it's because this critters are too ferocious to contain or if it's because the handlers are scared of their bloodthirstiness. Whatever the reason, I consider myself lucky to have obtained this final shot of one of the said terrifying beasts:

Fat Cat

May 19, 2008

Godzilla's Cousin Attacks Eel Valley!

Based on his body language and cool demeanor, I could tell this big guy meant business. We were lucky to have even found him since it's clearly evident, with that posture and pure swagger, he's the king of our backyard. And he let us know it too...between the scowls and free flowing testerone, we easily knew who was boss.

Leepin' Lizards!

While we were admiring his strength and stamina, we suddenly noticed his little body perk up. He had saw something...Something that had entered his domain...a threat? He decided to investigate...

Leepin' Lizards!

The threat came closer and they met eye to eye. It was like a repeat of Bad Day at Blackrock, minus the leather holsters and sidearm revolvers. He stopped to take it all in...

Leepin' Lizards!

Not sure of the potential danger, he edged closer...

Leepin' Lizards!

The creature was friendly enough, so he decided to let it live...for now...

Leepin' Lizards!

With much terror, the fuzzy scaredy cat ambled off into the flowerbed, thankful to still be alive. Afterall, that was Godzilla's cousin, and it could have been worse...much, much worse.

Size Matters

A little perspective on the actual size of this little critter (C-dub's grubby fingers for reference). We didn't want to inspire any sort of panic in the community over his slimy dangerousness.

May 18, 2008

How Do You Keep A Blonde In Suspense?

How do you keep a blonde in suspense?

Get the blonde to notice her shiny reflection on the rivets of a pair of work pants. It's hours of sheer entertainment for everyone, guaranteed.

May 17, 2008

We're A Fertile Family

fish

Please meet Mr. and Mrs. Mickey Mouse Platy. Take a good look at the bigger of the two; that's Mrs. Platy. Mrs. Platy is expecting some little ones any day now and if you take a gander at her tummy, you'll see little orange blobs with black dots. The orange is the roe (eggs) in her belly. The black dots are the eyes of the fry (baby fish). The eggs will eventually hatch inside of Mrs. Platy and she'll give birth to a bunch of live young'uns, rather than producing a cluster of eggs.

Mr. Goldfish has also been watching Mrs. Platy's progression and I think he's maybe been crushing on her a bit. She does have some lovely lady lumps at this point in her pregnancy. We think it's either her voluptuous body or that he knows he'll have access to fresh sushi in a few days. Either way, it should be neat process to watch and we're looking forward to it.

April 22, 2008

Duncan's Saga

duncan
2007 - 2008

Duncan the dog entered our life earlier this year, as Grandma Linda's new best friend and companion. Grandma Linda had always wanted a "Lassie" dog and did a ton of research before eventually finding and adopting Duncan. She was as an adorable little 10 week old fuzzball complete with delectable puppy breath and sharp little teeth and claws. Extremely shy at first, her personality eventually broke through her thin shell and she became a permanent fixture on Grandma Linda's lap - even though she was a tad bit big to be a lap dog. She loved slippers and rawhides, and was especially fond of Gun-Gun as he was the messiest eater of the group and always had something to share. No one could completely correct Duncan because her chocolaty brown eyes always melted your heart and that regal face assured you that she could do no wrong.

If you haven't yet noticed, I'm writing in the past tense about Duncan. Due to an unfortunate accident today, Duncan was struck by a passing motorist, after she had briefly escaped out the front door. Grandma Linda and the motorist immediately scooped Duncan up and transported her to the nearest vet in Fortuna, only to find that it was closed for lunch. They moved on to another vet and also found that they were closed. Panicking and grief stricken, Grandma Linda realized that the lunch hour was nearing ending, so they went back to the original vet’s office only to find that the vet would not be in for two hours. However, the vet's office was able to provide Grandma Linda with the business card for an emergency vet in Eureka. She and the motorist then drove to Eureka and found that the card had an incorrect address and they were once again forced to drive to another office. This final jaunt was futile because they quickly learned that Duncan’s injuries were so severe that she would more than likely not survive. Grandma Linda made the difficult decision to end Duncan’s suffering and she held her while the vet administered final peace to her best friend.

Just to put this in perspective, for over an hour Duncan suffered through two compound fractures, two dislocated hips, and a spinal cord injury. Evidently, she didn't realize that getting hit during lunchtime is not the best idea. I'm not saying that should she have received medical attention any earlier, she would have survived because we know that’s not the case. But, having to drive your loved one to five different places (including two different towns) just to receive emergency treatment, is both frustrating and extremely sad. Yes, fate dealt us a nasty hand of cards today and maybe this accident could have been prevented, however, the aftermath of the accident was probably even more traumatic for Grandma Linda than the accident itself.

Rest in peace Duncan. We love you.


duncan2

Lumpy The Chicken

When I was a little girl, my parents volunteered to help a friend demolish their old barn. In turn, my parents would salvage what they could of the lumber and the friend would have a nice bare spot for a new woodshed. Initially, it was a great idea and a win-win for all those involved; however, I quickly learned why married couples should (1) never build together and (2) never tear apart an ancient structure with two whining kids present (Uncle R and myself).

My parents tried to "sell" us on the project by emphasizing how much fun we'd have picking up nails, helping stack dirty wood, and *gasp* even better, dodging the angry chickens that were pissed off we were taking their house. Even at 10 years old, I knew that their form of fun was actually kid punishment with a thinly spread layer of saccharine to "inspire" our work abilities (or lack thereof, as they quickly found out). But at our tender ages of 10 and 8, we were pretty much equivalent to indentured servants so we had no choice but to obey our parent's request of child torture.

The demolition started off without much ado or yelling – mainly because my dad was working the chainsaw and couldn’t hear my mom voicing her concerns in the form of four letter words and unsavory hand gestures. Mom was our supporter in that she didn’t really see the need for more stinky old lumber to clutter up our backyard. But dad couldn’t be swayed from a freebie or from the opportunity of getting to run his chainsaw for insane amounts of time.

As we progressed into the project, Uncle R and I found that we had time to explore our surroundings and get to know the “locals.” One such local was a retarded chicken named “Lumpy.” Now, I don’t really know if the word “retarded” is politically correct, but we’re talking about a freakin’ chicken that’s more than likely in poultry paradise (a.k.a. Heaven) so I really don’t think she’d be complaining too much.

Lumpy was a little black hen that would follow us around the yard, chattering her incessant complaints about the weather or current bug shortage. As I previously mentioned, Lumpy had a few issues that brought about her owners to call her the “retarded chicken.” One such problem was that she didn’t quite seem to have a handle on her equilibrium and had a tendency to walk sideways. She’d make up for the goofy walk by cocking her head and looking at you, at a very odd angle. And to top it all off, poor Lumpy had a bad attitude with the other ladies in the yard and tended to get into scraps that she normally didn’t win. This caused her to have a feather shortage on the top of her head and neck, almost as if she had a feather mullet. She was the epitome of “Joe Dirt” in the chicken world. And did I mention that she had a few fatty tumors here and there? These little beauty blemishes helped to solidify her unique name.

Uncle R and I took pity on Lumpy and would help her out by finding her bugs and succulent snail eggs so that she could have a peaceful gourmet dinner with people who truly appreciated her. In turn, she’d occasionally lay us a goofy looking egg and we’d splat it – too afraid we’d catch something funky if we ate the contents. She'd follow us around the barnyard, supervising our activities. We we quickly became her own "brood" since God was wise and did not allow her to hatch her own little "Lumpy" chicks.

Our relationship continued on throughout the demolition and we were sad to say goodbye when the final piece of lumber was salvaged. But it was time to go and my parent’s marriage was also in need of a good salvation, as the constant bickering and fighting had taken its toll on their relationship. My parents stayed in touch with their friends and they told us that Lumpy lived a long and happy life as their token "retarded" chicken. We never did see Lumpy again but I think she managed to leave memorable hen pecks in our hearts as I now have my own chickens - but unfortunately, no one has been as memorable as Lumpy.

April 14, 2008

They're Hatching!

Check out this link for hatching ducklings. So cool to watch!

http://lancaster.unl.edu/4h/Embryology/EggCamera.shtml

Zeke

I'd like to introduce you to Zeke the rooster. Zeke "the hen" came to us last September after being caught sometime during the Ruth Lake rodeo. My favorite Aunt B assured us that he'd provide us with love and eggs and we readily agreed to take "her" in. A couple months later, we noticed that Zeke appeared to have a bad case of laryngitis and for some reason liked to announce "her" good morning with a funky crow. A crowing hen? Sure, it happens - but not to "Miss" Zeke. He later showed us his true gentle colors and an almighty crow. He's the king of our yard and front porch, for that matter. Fortunately, he's a very gentle rooster and does a great job of protecting his ladies. Plus, he's an excellent alarm clock for those of us who are early risers - even on Sunday mornings.

Zeke the Rooster

April 13, 2008

Can Chickens Be Glamorous?

He thinks so...

Glamourshot

And so does his girlfriend...

henrietta

What Is This?

This little guy was going crazy, eating worms and such, in my neighbor's yard. He was taking advantage of the sunny weather and was truly a delight to watch. We really got a kick out of his vigor!

So, what is he? Can a bird person help me identify?

bird

April 01, 2008

Have You Seen Charlie?

Charlie

I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Charlie. Charlie and I met a little over two years ago when my family moved into our new house. He was just about 10 lbs. back then, with big floppy ears and a tongue that loved to lick my kids into wet, sloppy pieces of goo. The little heathens would beg and plead to play with this little chocolaty piece of heaven and he'd happily oblige them for hours at a time.

When he got a little bigger, Charlie discovered a love for the lady dogs and started courtin' our dog, Kimmy. Kimmy wouldn't have any of his shenanigans but they quickly became the best of friends, nevertheless. Running and swimming, they spent their days together in perfect doggy contentment. Charlie has been a solid fixture in our yard and I could always count on him to eat my kitchen blunders or water the tires on my car. It was a nice trade.

Up until about a week ago, Charlie was the resident mascot of our valley; checking ID’s of all those who entered his humble abode, eagerly accepting gentle pats from those who knew and loved him. Charlie and my girls (dogs) were also excited at the fact that the creek water had finally receded enough allowing them some water therapy and stone catching. Life was good in our little neighborhood.

But that’s all over now; Charlie’s gone. Someone has taken it upon themselves to steal Mr. A’s best friend and confidant. The world's best dog (next to my own critters) was stolen from the world's best neighbor (Mr. A) and we want him back. We all know that Charlie needs his daddy and Mr. A needs his buddy; it’s just plain wrong and heartbreaking that someone would do this.

Both Hubby and Mr. A have put many hours and miles on their pick-ups, cruising different neighborhoods and checking shelters. We also pondered the thought that maybe something bigger and more menacing than a goofy chocolate lab, had hurt Charlie, but the lack of any evidence leads us to believe that’s not what happened. We suspect that someone recognized Charlie’s handsome demeanor and suave personality as being that of a dog who might be valuable; and in fact, he is. Charlie is fully registered and is the last of his father’s bloodline. He’s also licensed and wears proof of this next to his heart-shaped information tag. I guess you could say he wears some of Mr. A’s love on his neck and I would hope this little heart-shaped charm would serve as a reminder of good conscious to the callous thief who stole Charlie.

If you have Charlie, please give him back. I promise not to open up the can of whoop-ass that my daughter has created for the mean person who stole her buddy. We will not ask any questions nor press any charges; unless that is, we find him ourselves. And, Mr. A has a lot of friends out there in the community; many of whom who know and love Charlie.

To sum it up, Charlie is an almost three year old registered/papered Chocolate lab male. He weighs about 95 lbs., has a shiny brown coat that resembles melted chocolate, and he’s not neutered. He was last seen wearing a chain collar with a county license tag, rabies tag, and heart-shaped home information tag.

Please, please, please call 496-0113 or 496-6469, to give anonymous information.

March 21, 2008

Watching Paint Dry

When we moved to our new house in the country, we promised the kiddos that we'd get a couple of chickens and some ducks. Bear in mind that I know nothing about poultry. I like eating eggs and find chicken delicious, but that's about it.

Rather than going the easy route and just buying some full grown rats with wings (that's all chickens really are if you didn't know) we decided to go the full incubator route, complete with a huge cage, warming lights, and about $100 in worthless (but expensively necessary) accessories. I bought a book, did a ton of research and ordered my first batch of fertilized eggs off of e-Bay (don't laugh, lots of people do this I found out).

You might ask, how in the world can you safely ship little chicks in the mail? Now that I'm a certified poultry expert, let me explain...Once eggs are fertilized (yes, chickens have sex), you have about a week long window to get them either under a momma hen or into the warm safety of an incubator. When they are in the perfect environment of heat and moisture, this will activate the little embryo into "grow mode" and just a few weeks later, you'll have hatching chicks. In theory, at least.

Our little bundles of joy arrived via the USPS about three days after the auction ended. They were wrapped very carefully and in surprisingly good shape, although they reaked like cigarette smoke. I explained to the kids that our little chickens might be born with black lungs and raspy voices...

We placed the eggs into the incubator, and into the egg turner. Evidently, bad juju happens if you do not have this extra piece of $40 equipment that constantly rolls the eggs and prevents the yolk from sticking to the interior of the shell. You also must apply a gentle water mist each day so that the little buggers do not dry out. Again, you are simulating the underside of a momma hen. I think it would have been just as easer if I took a three week vacation and sat on the critters myself. Less electricity and less to forget to do.

About a week into the incubation process, the kids and I waited until a very dark night and bought a special light so that we could "candle" the eggs (shining a bright light through the porous shell). If the egg was successfully fertilized and growing, you'd see a dark blob. We saw several dark blobs and the kids were ecstatic that we'd managed to "grow" a few babies.

A few more weeks went by and our due date was coming up. Waiting for the little buggers to hatch was like waiting for paint to dry, at least for my kiddos who were so excited about the impending birth(s) and asked me every day, "How many more days???" I quickly learned that chickens are remarkably punctual. At exactly Day 26, you could hear the quiet peeps of the hatching chicks. Soon, we had several little bundles of downy feathers born and the kids were in love. We lost several chicks that week and the kids quickly learned to identify the funky death dance the chicks did before they eventually croaked but all in all, they took the process very well.

The little chicks eventually grew into angry roosters and a little hen. We went through the process several more times and learned a little more each additional batch. During our time as chicken wranglers, I found an awesome website where you can actually go and watch a webcam set on an incubator at the University of Nebraska - Lincoln. You seem them turning the eggs, candling, and eventually the hatching process. My kids and I watched chickens, ducks, and quail hatch on this camera last year and we'll be watching again this year. It certainly is much easier, not to mention cleaner, than doing it yourself.

University of Nebraska - Lincoln Egg Cam

March 16, 2008

Goat Witness Protection Program

A couple months back, I blogged about the joys of our little goat, Chico. Chico recently celebrated his one year birthday and along with the age came a major bout of attitude and about 50 extra pounds. No longer was he my sweet little kid looking for ear scratches or wanting to visit with his favorite Schwan's guy; he was now a turd. A big white blob of Hell placed on this Earth to make our family miserable.

Each day I'd let him off his lead to take a break and wander the yard. However, he soon learned that he could hold our front porch hostage; pooping and peeing wherever he pleased. One wrong move and he'd contort his little body into a battering ram that was sure to knock anyone on their butt. When he was tied out, he'd holler his protests, and do his best to get off of the lead he was affixed to. It was just a no win situation for all parties.

We thought we'd remedy the problem by giving him to our neighbors who also had a goat and a huge piece of ground. Chico seemed to like it for awhile but about a week later, I heard the familiar rumblings of garbage cans being knocked over; Chico had escaped and returned home. Evidently he felt that our Redneck Ranch was better than their house; plus, he hadn’t gotten a chance to eat all the new succulent shoots on my roses. He still had work to do.

He seemed to do well for awhile, appreciative that his momma and siblings would accept him back into the brood. But this love quickly turned to a huge case of spring fever mixed with bad attitude. Once again, Chico had kidnapped the front porch and proceeded to eat all of my roses, the daffodil sprouting in my yard, and the electric starter on our BBQer. He also successfully opened every package that the UPS man delivered and would knock over our trashcans daily, in an attempt to find out if we were eating healthier than he.

Knowing our difficulties with Chico, our good friend Serge, offered to take him off of our hands, assuring us that he’d put him to good use. While this initially perked my interest, I began questioning him as to Chico’s future living quarters and what sort of yard he had for him. Serge just looked at me as if I didn’t understand his proposition.

“Uh, we’re gonna eat him." he told me, smiling at the prospect of a deep pit BBQ starring Chico the tender smoked goat.

Nope. Not happening. Although Chico was driving my family nuts, he was my fourth kid and I just couldn’t face the prospect of someone eating him. The hungry look on Serge’s face made me want to place poor Chico in the Goat Witness Protection Program. He’d have to leave in obscurity somewhere in Wisconsin, under an assumed name with some other random family or perhaps even a trashy Nanny goat named Big Bertha. He’d live his 12 or so years completely anonymous, never to contact our family again. Where's that number to the FBI, I guess I dont' have it on speed dial...

Needless to say, he stayed with us for another week and chalked up four more garbage can turnovers, ate the rest of my bulb sprouts, schatted all over my driveway and front porch, ate the Payless Shoes Source box and distributed the new shoes in said box all over my yard, and discovered his beautiful reflection in my brand, new car. This discovery also led to him attempting to “rub out” his completion with his one horn, on my BRAND NEW CAR! I grabbed the phone and dialed Serge’s number; at this point, anger and desperation took in and I saw only red…

Then my wonderful neighbor stepped in. Mr. A informed us that during a trip to his Rodeo BBQ, Chico had made great friends with one of his buddies. Evidently, Chico was the life of this outside party and was quickly inducted in as a four-legged party go’er. Mr. A told me that he’d let his buddy know that Chico was once again available.

The following Sunday morning, Mr. A and his buddy arrived and transported Chico to his new home of endless blackberry bushes, brush, and someone else’s rose bushes. Hubby and I waved goodbye to Chico, using only one finger a piece - you can decide which one. Chico is now much happier and so are we. Yes, I admit that I do miss the occasional moment when he’d place his soft little nose into the crook of my arm, begging for an ear scratch or two. I’d happily oblige him and in the next moment, he’d take it as a challenge and would proceed to chase me down the driveway and once again take command of my front porch. I think we’ll stick to chickens from now on. At least they give us eggs and eat the endless amounts of bugs our Redwood forest provide. And they’re much easier to give away if they piss you off.

Goat Smile With Braces

January 17, 2008

The Chronicles of Chico

I've always been a "collector" of animals. I call myself a collector rather than a rancher or farmer because I have never truly made a dime at any of my profit adventures involving four hooves or feathers. It's OK though, because I love animals and so do my kids. Hubby, on the other hand, has a mild disdain for most creatures, including the one-horned goat who feels the need to exert his dominance whenever hubby is in the picture. And this is where my story begins...

It was a freezing cold February morning when Chico was born into the world. He was a small white bundle of fur with floppy brown ears and little knobby horns. Shortly after his birth, a higher power had other plans for his mother, leaving him an orphaned "kid." As circumstances go, Chico was later found roaming the streets when he was about a month old, and $20 later (to pay for the huge bag of formula - first indicator that this was going to be a problem), he began his life as my fourth "kid." I have been told numerous times in the past that nothing is ever entirely free in life - there is always a catch whether it is further financial costs or other burdens. Chico came with the burden of being a baby, a baby that liked to nurse from a bottle four times a day, engorging himself more like a piglet than a kid.

Hubby and I had previously spoken about getting a goat to tackle our briar problems but I don't necessarily think we were on the same page as to the type of goat we were looking for. Ultimately, Chico found his way tucked into a warm blanket on our front porch when hubby was at work. When hubby got home that night, I secretly watched him through the window and saw the immediate scowl. As he walked through the front door, muttering some expletives that cost him several dollars in the "cussing jar," I introduced him;

"Honey, this is Chico. He's going to be living with us for the next 10 years or so."

Initially, I received a million promises from my oldest two that they would be doing all the nursing sessions and any clean-up associated with little "Cheekies" (a name he earned due to the plump rump he quickly grew). Seriously, how much of a mess can a 12 lb. goat create? As Chico's 16 ounce Pepsi bottle quickly turned into a huge 32 oz. calf bottle, we learned that the messes were endless; nursing sessions meant that the front porch and caregiver would be covered in a slime of formula and spit, combined with whatever else wanted to come from the other end or middle (my kids, by the way, were amazed that Chico peed from his belly).

And then there was the issue of castration. Chico had received the "little green rubber band" treatment prior to entering our home, so I knew that "It" was going to fall off sooner or later. I was just hoping that my older two wouldn't ask too many questions on why Chico chose to wear rubber band jewelry at such a young age. Approximately two weeks into our relationship with Chico, Tater-bug ran screaming into the house, clutching a little white bundle of fur, or should I say "sack" of fur. Through the hysteria and sobbing, I was able to determine that she believed that her baby goat was falling apart and that she had the evidence to prove it. I inspected the item in her hand, verifying it was Chico's last sense of manhood, and quietly told her that Chico was going to be fine. She looked at my strangely, angry that I wasn't concerned of his impending doom. It was then I reminded her of the little green rubber band and what it had been latched onto. In one move and scream, she yelled, "You mean I'm holding his balls?!" and threw Chico's pride off the front porch. I corrected her word usage with a mild scolding and then thoroughly washed her hands, all the while laughing to myself and trying to remember details for hubby. It was then that we had a very mild and subdued talk about why baby boy goats do not need that part of their anatomy in order to live happily (and much less stinky) ever after.

We nursed Chico for six months (way longer than we needed to but he was insistent with that cute little face) and learned a ton through the process. For example, goats can projectile vomit - particularly when they know that you just washed your car. Too much alfalfa is not a good thing no matter how happy he looks, because it certainly does not smell nice nor look pretty when it's flying out of his cute little mouth at 3AM. Also, no matter how much he professes to love dog food and chicken scratch, it is not good for him. Two trips to the vet for kidney stones and bloat say so.

You may be surprised to learn that Chico continues to live a happy life with us, although he is now a year old and weighs about 75 lbs. He is headstrong (literally) and enjoys a good playful headbutt whenever he sees hubby, the kids, dogs, pretty much anything that moves and he perceives as needing to be dominated. What used to be playful little nudges are now painful stabs with that damn horn that grew back after his late dehorning session. He can be quite the turd, especially since I haven't had roses for over a year due to his trimming sessions, but I love the little guy. He wanders our valley when he's not on his lead, and will follow you around like a loyal dog. He also loves when our realtor visits as the realtor brings Chico's best friend - a shiny black paint job that reflects Chico's handsome face (a.k.a. his best friend). No, I'm not at all saying that Chico is the most intelligent animal, but he is very entertaining and extremely loyal. He's the stinky guardian of our front porch and best friend to the chickens. Hubby still isn't sold on Chico and frankly, can't stand the poor little guy (something about Chico nibbling on the four-wheeler, eating the pull string on the lawnmower, and schatting in the garage on hit tools - I think), but he's at least accepted the fact that he's not going anywhere. Chico will be with us for the rest of his little goaty life and I'm sure that there will be many more adventures and frustrations that can be attributed to this little guy.

Then
chico 001

Now
chico