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Posts Tagged ‘Country thoughts’

 

Day Dreaming in the Sunshine

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Amy and Hildegard

My friend Amy is always doing fascinating things.  She is the one who took up Contra Dancing.  And before that it was Jumpology.  She has taught piano and is a violinist, but is now taking cello lessons.  And she got a trucker’s license in order to drive preschoolers in a school bus.  And she is a marathon runner too.  There is more.

But Amy’s latest endeavor is raising chickens.

She and her sons built the perfect stable safe house for them, better known as a chicken coop.  She then bought four beautiful egg laying chickens and she gave them old fashioned names:

  • Penelope
  • Gertrude (Gertie)
  • Esther, and
  • Henrietta

And they all laid beautiful delicious eggs.  But sadly, Henrietta passed away.   They said it was from an inherited disease.  Amy was distraught, but soon went out and purchased two more cluckers:

  • Esmerelda and
  • Hildegard (Hildegard is now her favorite chicken!  She runs to greet Amy and rides on her shoulder).

Unfortunately, Amy just discovered

that Hildegard and Esmerelda are EGG EATERS!

Oh no!

This is not good.

This is a very bad thing because it teaches all the other chickens to eat eggs too.

It is a nasty habit, egg eating, and very hard to break.  But Amy is determined.

What to do.  What to do.

Amy thinks this blog post may help others of you out there who are raising chickens who turn out to be egg eaters.  After assiduous research and concentrated efforts to watch, wait and trick the ladies, things seem to be paying off.

Try these remedies:

  1. Watch, wait and grab newly laid eggs of the “good girls” ASAP.
  2. Replace real eggs in the nesting box with golf balls.  The chicken ladies will peck the hard golf balls and this will make their beaks hurt.  This is breaking a habit with negative suggestion…. like pain.
  3. Replace real eggs with Mustard Eggs!  Ever hear of that one? To make a mustard egg you blow out a real egg so only the shell is left and then insert mustard.  Chickens HATE mustard and when they peck at such an egg the taste is awful.  More negative psychology.  It would cure me of eating eggs too!

Do you have an egg eater in your family besides of the human variety?

Have you successfully convinced your chickens to stop egg eating?

Please share your remedies.

We are in search of a cure.

 

 

 

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BigBruno

If you are weary of hearing about my bear visitors here in rural Virginia, I do understand.  I hope you are able to “grin and bear it.”

But I must recount the latest episode.  This time I was away from home with a friend.

We were out for lunch at a general store (and diner) in Natural Bridge Station, Virginia.  That is only a few miles from the actual Natural Bridge (an awesome sight indeed).

The Natural Bridge  is also now a Virginia State Park.

Anyway, we pulled into the driveway of the little general store and there he was – Bruno’s father! BIGBruno!

He was crossing the parking lot right in front of us.  And he went loping down an embankment to a little stream, and up the other side to cross the road into the woods.

Could I get out of othe car without fear of bodily harm?  No.

I was on the bear’s side!

Could I outrun the bear?  No.

Still having trouble hobbling around on a bad foot, but even if it was normal……. well, you get the picture.

Was I stupid enough to get out of the car (on BigBruno’s side) and slowly make my way to the diner entrance?

Yes.

And so it was.  Lunch was a breathless affair recounting the story to the hostess.  She said they had been frying bacon all morning.  Well, no wonder BigBruno was enamoured of the place!

And on the wall was this frightening image!

It looked just like him.

I still don’t know if it was a photograph or a painting, but BigBruno loomed out of the canvas as big and wild and beautiful as I could ever conjure up in a dream/nightmare.

Lunch was delicious by the way.  A very informal setting with all natural all fresh salads and sans – everything to a bear’s liking!

Another adventure in Virginia country living.

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I love to look long-range too

along with the windblown grasses

as we nod our mutual approval

of a magnificent Virginia view.

Mtn View through the Grasses

 

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Forest Primeval

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Change is o.k. I guess.

But at what point should one begin to think about starting over?

I am giving serious consideration to reliving my life with new loves.

No, I don’t mean acquiring new relationships.

Well, maybe so.  Maybe some relationships.  Relationships with places and things.

Long-time favorites once loved and counted on are either going, going, going, or gone.

  • The downtown gift shop I loved and even wrote advertising copy for is selling out!
  • The health food store I depended on for expensive delicacies and youth restoring vitamins  has already closed its doors.
  • Long nylon nightgowns that helped with silky, sleepy, bed-turning are now considered “Vintage” and impossible to find unless you want to sleep in something slept in by somebody else.
  • Big terry cloth pot holders with pockets are missing. They may be another vintage item. (Hurrah Ebay!)
  • My quilted barn coat is getting frayed from 12 years of use and is irreplaceable.  The store that carried it no longer carries it. Neither does anyone else.
  • Favorite tea flavor (Vanilla Caramel) is gone from our local grocery stores.  Is there such a thing as Vintage Tea?  (Yay! Amazon!).

Every day something else is NA (Not Available – To be youth oriented, I am practicing talking in initials) and the search begins for replacements.

“Such is life,” my sainted mother used to say.

She never told me I would lose so many old loves and would have to start life over.

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Fencing in the last of summer to look back upon and reflect.

the-last-green-of-summer

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