Pom poms at large

It's not that I don't trust our cats. Two out of three are capable of taking out rats, mice, rabbits and possibly chickens, it's just that the mother chuck KNOWS there are cats on this side of the hedges, but she still insists on teaching them to peck and forage here. I guess that's where the expression "Chicken run" comes from!

They look as if they all take after Reginald from a distance (i.e. they are white) but when you get close to their peeping cheeping, you realise it is baby fluff and they are changing to browns and blacks. 12 out of the original 13. I hope it stays a dozen, or I will be looking at guilty whiskers VERY closely.

Momma and the pom poms

Our neighbours chickens have hatched 13 very active pom poms. We saw them being taught how to scratch in our borders. Momma Chuck appears to have a second sense about my camera. The minute I lifted it to take a photo she shooed them off into the undergrowth.

Now to keep them away from les chats....

The owl with the winceyette feathers

A work in progress.

But a rather nice thought, a wise owl to keep warm with winceyette feathers!

Single spelling, double meaning

I recently acquired this postcard. I thought it was romantic and the boat colour reminded me of the nursery rhyme:

"The owl and the pussycat went to sea in a beautiful pea green boat"

But then I realised it could also mean "Let's fight all of our lives". Funny how the romantic gloss was suddenly lost!

And speaking of romance, I have been corresponding recently with family in Canada and reflecting on events that took my Great Aunt there to find her fortune. Encouraged by her older half brother, she ended up emigrating, going to work for Sam McLaughlin (of General Motor's fame) and eventually marrying another immigrant who was originally from the East End of London.

Here is my great aunt in her uniform working at the Parkwood Estate in Oshawa Ontario. She is on the far left.

and here is her brother dressed as a cowboy. In fact I am told he loved to hunt, so holding a gun wasn't just for show.

and here in his WW1 uniform and later as best man at his sister's wedding

Post election blues

Well, the election is over, but we still don't have a final result. Let's hope we don't do a Belgium or a Northern Ireland.

The cats tried to participate, but it was all a bit much and after a hectic day sofa surfing, two out of three took to their bed.

One was still on Rooster Watch. He is relieved that the rooster has vanished, and it sure is quiet around here since. I miss him, but the Terrified Tabby doesn't.

Our neighbour lost two chickens on the same day that Reginald disappeared, so we think he has eloped. His brown feather dusters really miss him.

I don't think it is a coincidence that the day the noisy boy vanished, our rosellas returned to the garden to destroy our cherry blossoms.

fungi rumba

Our property has quite a few trees. Some have come down in storms, others drop branches when over enthusiastic native birds capture nectar from their blossoms. Others die off and branches slowly rot in the shadow of other trees. That's when the fungi likes to dance and do the rumba!

Here are two examples I found today, cha cha cha-ing in the little glades and hollows.

And in chicken news, our next door neighbours' white fluffy chook confection is currently sitting on blue eggs under their house, so there will be baby pom poms soon.

Here is the father. Doesn't he have lovely chucklewobbles?

Cool running

There is never a dull moment along our road. After the rather bad flooding of a couple of weeks ago, I sent photos to our local council showing them that the "work" they did in 2015 to ease the surface water, cough cough, didn't work.

A week ago, the bulldozers arrived and started digging channels EVERYWHERE, including behind the embankment which had previously had been a Niagara falls type water feature.

Now it looks like the local council want to nominate us for the Horowhenua bobsleigh team. The channel would certainly take a sled and the incline is steep enough...although the finish line looks a bit brutal. The sad fact is, the drainage that will be laid runs down another incline into the same field that was transformed two weeks ago into a duck lake. I have a feeling that in a few more weeks I may be writing to the council again about their rather erratic engineering.

And as if this kind of reshaping wasn't enough, the logging season is upon us. Our outlook will soon be very different when the hill opposite is shorn of the radiata pine. 5 months of logging trucks along the road I believe. Sigh.