Poor Jemima, Poor Susan!

Here's a photo from Black Friday showing Monique and Brandy, Ping, Jemima (flapping her wings), Siobhan and a couple of the drakes.

Saturday, Herb left for Dallas to be with his sister in the hospital.  Sunday Jim and Monique and the kids went home and Jean-Marc began his long drive back to Virginia, leaving Jenny to help me with everything there was to do.  Little did she know, bless her heart!

It was raining all day Sunday, and by the time Jenny and I finished everything we had to do inside and got outside to do evening feeding, it was pitch black and pouring rain.  Suddenly we realized something was wrong with Jemima.  She was outside of the barnyard fence as usual, proud to be the only duck who could fly over the fence despite our repeated admonitions that the fox was going to get her.

Jemima was bleeding, and I picked her up in my arms and carried her into the hay barn while Jenny ran to get Kara and antibiotic ointment.  I realized we were going to have to keep Jemima in the house to keep her warm and dry, and I carried her to the back corner of the barn to try to find a cat carrier.  In my rain-fogged glasses, I tripped over something heavy and immoveable on the floor--and I was the thing that moved.  I toppled like a tree felled with an axe, straight for the concrete floor.  In the seconds it took me to hit, I realized I would kill Jemima if I fell on her, and I twisted to avoid landing on her.  I smashed into the concrete with all my weight on my left knee, followed by my right knee, and skidded a couple feet.  That's where the girls found me, sitting on the floor holding Jemima and bawling.

The girls helped me wrap her in a fleece throw and helped me to my feet and over to something I could sit on to look at Jemima.  She was looking around, neither making a sound nor struggling, as I put ointment in the deep, bleeding wounds left by a predator.  Then I wrapped her up again and sat there stroking her and telling her what a good duck she was.  Her head began to droop bit by bit, and I told the girls it didn't look good.  We prayed for her then, that if she could recover, God would help her to, and that if she was too badly wounded that He would take her quickly before she suffered any more.  When we opened our eyes, she was gone.  And there the three of us sat with tears streaming down our faces, saying goodbye to poor Jemima.

To Jemima Puddleduck, brave and beautiful, full of adventure, may you rest in peace.  We will miss your fun and lively spirit and your presence on our barnyard fence.  May the grass be greener, the water clearer, and the drakes fewer in the Great Barnyard Beyond.

The rest of the title, "Poor Susan," is because while my fall with Jemima didn't spare her life, it didn't do me any good, either.  My left knee immediately blew up to twice its size, unable to bear my weight for walking.  After hobbling painfully around for a week, having to leave more and more of the chores to Jenny, watching green and purple bruises migrate down my leg as the swelling subsided, I finally had to admit my knee was not getting better.  Herb got home this past Saturday and took me to our orthopedic surgeon on Tuesday.  I still have to have an MRI this coming Saturday, but my doctor is sure that I've torn my meniscus and need to have surgery to repair (hopefully) or partially remove it.

A couple good things came out of that visit:  Orders to stay off my feet and a prescription for a wheelchair.  I can now get around the house or go to the bathroom without hobbling painfully, creepingly across the floor.  I am learning lots of new things--for instance, that "wheelchair accessible" bathrooms are no such thing (Kara, my driver, will confirm that!).  I am learning that I hate to be dependent on others instead of myself; I should be taking care of Herb and Kara, not the other way around!  I am learning that if and when I'm fully on my own feet again, I will never take that blessing for granted.  And I'm learning that even from a wheelchair forced on me by pain, there are still things to be thankful for and to laugh about--it's just that my perspective is a little bit different from down here.  And I hope that Jean-Marc will really spoil Jenny now that she's home because she deserves it!

Out in the Pasture

Yesterday was a busy day for my Nikon.  After our frosty morning sortie, Herb and I headed out to the pasture after church because Mitch from Bickett Genetics is coming tomorrow to set Sara up for AI.  We needed to get the cattle into the end of the Lower Pasture where the head gate is set up so that we can easily entice Sara in with some pears.

We took the easy way down, past the barnyard and down the road instead of plunging straight down the hill through the trees near the house.  Jemima Puddleduck watched us go by, wondering if we were going to shoo her into the barnyard.  I'm sure as soon as we were out of sight, she flew down outside where she's been spending a lot of time lately.  Foolish Jemima, daring the fox to get her!

The pigs followed, galloping along the fence all the way down, sure there was a treat in store for them.  No treat for them, but a nice view of the giant oak behind the house for me.

The horses very cooperatively let us keep them out of the nice new pasture when we let the cows in.  T-bone has sort of gotten used to the routine, although he never just simply follows Sara and Siobhan.  He always has to dodge around the open gate and be herded a bit.  But he posed very nicely for this photo to show how he's growing.  He's not nearly as stocky as Siobhan, but I think he's filled out a bit under that winter coat.

The head gate is in the round pen (which doesn't show up) connected to the shed in the background.  Sara will (should?) follow us in there willingly when she sees a bucket of pears.  That's the plan . . .

On the way back up the hill, Brandy and Angel followed right beside us.  Brandy had a funny gleam in her eye, and I understood why when she suddenly wheeled and exploded into a mad gallop up the hill.  Angel, Hero and Zephyr exploded right behind her into a kicking, bucking race over the hill and out of sight where the echo of pounding hooves said the race was still on.

Misty is still afraid of the horses, so she is always a distant "also ran."  When I called the dogs back (it's tricky for them to get to the house from this pasture), she was the first to reappear, her lolloping gallop limned by the afternoon sun.  Good come, Misty!

Fall Cleaning at the Barn: We Get By with a Little Help from Our Friends

The Thompsons helped us move the chicken coop to the safety of the barnyard back in July.  Herb was going to level it himself, but summer heat put a stop to most of our outdoor projects.  With fall upon us and winter approaching, it seemed time to finally put the coop to rights.  One of the Muscovy drakes realized that ground being dug up meant a bug smorgasbord was being unearthed.

 Robin showed off her sylph-like figure while checking to see if bugs had been living under the coop.  She also reminded Herb to be sure and nail a 2" x 6" around the bottom of the coop once he finished raising it on concrete blocks.  If Robin can get under there, so can rats.

Zephyr supervised Herb digging out a place to put the jack.

Misty practiced good LGD manners, that is, lying peacefully near her charges. One of the drakes kept a watchful eye, all the while letting sleeping dogs lie.  Herb calls this drake Alger Hiss because he is the boss duck and hisses at everything and everyone.  Muscovies don't quack, not even when frightened.  They just hiss louder!

When Misty showed signs of life, Alger kept a very close watch on her in case she needed an etiquette lesson. She didn't, and I was proud of her.

When I refilled the clean wading pool, Jemima Puddleduck played with the stream of water, trying to bite it.  She was very quick and got it many times; I  just wasn't quite as quick one-handed with the camera.

While Herb was busy with the "coop raising" and patching holes at the bottom of the barn, I cleaned stalls.  I hauled out loose litter to fill a low spot in the barnyard, swept cobwebs down, washed the buckets, and cleaned the feeders.  Now the stalls are ready for rainy winter days and for feeding the horses separately from the cows when everyone is in the barnyard together.

What a good feeling at the end of the day leaving a nice, clean barn and having enjoyed the company of our animals while we worked.

Jemima Shows Off

The other morning I let the ducks out. Jemima (in front) came down from her perch on the back of the barn roof and joined the boys, but only briefly.

 Within a few seconds she was perched on a fencepost looking down at them as if to say, "Ha, ha, ha!  You can't catch me!"

She flew over to her favorite gatepost, and with one of the drakes watching her intently from the ground, began to preen herself.  First, she folded her head straight back along her back . . .

. . . then fluffed her feathers on one side . . .

. . . and the other.

Then she folded her head straight down to her breast . . .

. . . and looked to see if she still had an audience.

She did!

She repeated a few of her preening moves and then began to eat flying bugs--but you can tell she was really saying, "I'm so gorgeous!  I know you can't take your eyes off of me!"

I think we should change Jemima's name to Bathsheba (who bathed on the roof of her house with King David watching her).

Show off!

Where is Jemima Puddleduck?

Herb had a breakfast meeting one morning last week, so I went out to feed alone.  Poor Hero was eagerly waiting at the gate, barking loudly to remind me that he was done with his guard duty and it was time to let him out!

The first thing I noticed before even opening the gate was that there was no sign of Jemima Puddleduck.  She wasn't on the barn roof, the chicken coop, the gatepost or the tractor (her favorite perches), nor was she outside on the ground getting a head start on breakfast.

"Silly Jemima," I said out loud.  "You just won't let us shut you up where it's safe, will you?  And now the fox has gotten you."  A corner full of white feathers in one stall seemed to forensically back up my theory.  I went about my chores with a heavy heart.

Misty followed me into the barnyard and started exploring while I let the chickens out.  I was happy to see that when Misty came face to face with Mercy, Misty stopped and dropped her head.  When Mercy turned and hurried away, Misty didn't follow her.  Thanks to our new Storeys' Guide to Livestock Guardians, I realized that what Misty had just demonstrated was desirable behavior in an LGD puppy.

When I opened the Duck Mobile to let  Ping and the drakes out, they came out running and flapping their wings.  It's like their wings have gone to sleep overnight, and they're waking them up again.  They run on their tiptoes, too, which is just too funny to watch.

Then suddenly I heard a noise from the back of the barn roof, and Jemima came sailing over my head and landed just outside the fence.  One of the drakes hurried over to join her, and she bobbed her head along the fence line as if she could find a way in there--as if she doesn't fly over that fence every single day!

I finally had to go outside and shoo her until she finally flapped her wings and soared up onto the gatepost.  One of the drakes tried to join her, but couldn't get his heavier body airborne, so Jemima sat in solitary splendor, basking in the morning sun.

I wish I could shake some sense into her silly head because I like her so much, but I'm just glad every morning that I see she made it through another night.

Jemima Puddleduck

The second morning Herb went out to bush-hog the hunting preserve, Jemima Puddleduck was sitting on the roll bar of the tractor.  I made Herb wait while I grabbed the camera to capture some pictures of our picturesque little lady.  And I swear that the halo around Jemima is not photo-shopped!  There really is something special about this duck!

Jemima obviously loves her high perch.

Up there she can see things from a different perspective . . .

Misty waits patiently while Mama shoots pictures.

Finally Jemima deigns to come down and join the boys in the barnyard catching bugs.  Here she is with her open bill snaking her head after tasty insects.

She's joined by the Red Baron, her most ardent suitor, whom she tolerates here only because he's busy catching bugs, too.  If he should stop thinking about food, Jemima will be up on the fence before he knows she's gone!