Fall Transitions in Chonkey Land

Its time to face the facts.  Fall is well underway and I cannot stop the progression to winter.
Darn!

The leaves are falling, carpeting our patch of woods.

The mums are radiant.

But its time to prep the teeny tiny farm for winter.  Fans have been stored, the pasture is now off limits to donks, and with the advent of chilly nights, bedding is lush.

OK, maybe it doesn't look quite lush in this photo, but after it's been smoothed out, the donkeys settle right in.  I explained to readers last winter, after 10 years of using pine shavings, the beasts started eating them.  The donks did not offer a logical explanation for this crazy behavior.  These are hydrated shavings which, yup, require water.  Difficult if you're in the dead of a Michigan winter and looking at sub-zero temps.  But, for the moment, that's the logical option.

The porch off the chicken coop is getting bulked up with straw providing an insulated area to get some fresh air when snow is on the ground.  Haven't put the radiant heater in the coop yet.  Yes, I've read many articles on the pros and cons of using a heater.  I am waiting a bit longer this year to give the girls some extra overnight warmth to allow them to acclimate to the temps.  But when it starts getting really really chilly, it will be turned on.

 Fall means a ready supply of carrots for the donks and pumpkin for the hens.

 Winter coats on the donks are coming in nicely. 

Spice has nice waves, without the burden of a perm!

Thankfully we haven't quite bottomed out at night to warrant turning off the water supply to the trough, which will then necessitate hauling water.  That's my time to moan and groan.

What's fall bringing to your neck of the woods?

 

Wait, Is That A Skunk?!!

 Yesterday morning I went through the typical daily routine to feed donks and hens.  First hay for the equine hooligans, just to get them out of the way.  Then the chickens.

I opened the coop door from the donkey barn and the girls always come tumbling out talking up a storm.  No hens.  I heard talking but they weren't flying out the door.  I probably stood there a moment trying to figure out what was going on.  As I went further into the coop, I saw all the girls in the other "bedroom" of the coop, clustered together jabbering away.  My confusion grew. 

My first thought was someone had died.  I quickly scanned the area.  No body.

What the heck is going on.

I decided as I had no idea why they were behaving so oddly, but no one appeared hurt, I would start clean-up chores. Moments later I stopped in my tracks.  Yup, guess what I saw coming out of the corner.  A little black and white friend.

I stood stock still just waiting probably holding my breath.  He/she slowly crawled through a hole and out into the barn.

Right behind the can you can see daylight at the bottom.  Darn!

I take pride in the fact our coop is so critter-proof.  Wrong!  I called Rick from the coop immediately and in a bit he rectified the problem with some hardware cloth.

I gotta tell you, that incident sure got my heart beating a bit faster.  And I am so glad it was s skunk who found our entry point and not a racoon.  

* * * * *

And now, on a completely different topic, I'm showing off a gift I received from knitting friend extraordinaire, Mary.  Gorgeous socks made out of bamboo and cotton.

She knows I am partial to vibrant colors and picked the yarn to suit. 
Jealous, aren't you. 
  

Goodbyes Are never Easy

 Bad news comes in threes.  Or so they say.

I received the third notice this morning of an equine buddy passing from this world.
Let me introduce you to all three.

My last (and final) horse, Natural, lived at a nearby horse ranch for 23 years (he was 30 when he died).  For most of the time he was there, the ranch included 98 acres of rolling hills and woods.  A perfect spot for a horse to be a horse.  For a time, Natural was the head honcho of the 50+ herd.  He could part the waters with a look.  But as he aged he lost that role.  Thankfully he kept his best buds. 

    Justin, Natural, and Apollo

Justin was always a big moocher for treats.  If I brought them for Natural, it was mandatory to share with Justin, just to get him to leave me alone.  

A clear memory of these two boys was their fight over a mare, Crystal.  I had never seen two geldings rearing and pawing at each other over a mare before and it was scary.  And after that duel, they were best friends -- the three of them.

Justin died September 9.

And then there was big boy Apollo.  Truly a gentle giant.  He too was a big mooch.  He could stealthily creep up behind you and suddenly you'd turn and encounter a big head asking for treats.

I heard this part weekend, Apollo had to be put down.

This morning, was the third.

Sweet Dolly lived next door for a time. A lovely white Percheron, she also enjoyed those carrot treats  I'd throw over the fence to the group next door.  But she'd come up to the fence with those big lips and demand to be fed by hand.  How could I refuse.

 

So, it's the end of an era.

Natural has been gone for almost six years and now his best buddies are gone too.

Hopefully they're happy grazing and getting carrot treats somewhere else.   

Have fun boys.  You too sweet Dolly.

Sharing

Ten chickens are convinced that what's good for the donkeys must be good for them.  Whatever lands in donkey bowls or the manger is fair game.  Surprisingly the donkeys don't seem to mind, too much -- we'll get to that in a minute.

The image above proves a bit surprising.  Donkeys are passionate about their Sunday morning treat -- hydrated hay cubes plus timothy pellets plus oats and now with the advent of cold weather, plus hydrated beet pulp.  You've got to admit, what a delicious blend!  There's a lot of fighting over any bits left in bowls, so the fact they share with the hens is perplexing.

Luigi seems OK with the girls checking out his precious bowl of slop, but you see just a bit of ear movement at the very end when Marigold comes chirping over.  He might have had enough at this point.  I still get a chuckle out of Fluffy crossing the screen from stage right to stage left behind the action.  Oblivious to the bowl drama.

I have to admit the girls' daily behavior often offers a chuckle, or two.

Straw Wouldn't Get My Vote, But Chickens Prevail

 If I were a chicken and I had the choice of laying an egg in picky pokey straw or a soft bed of pine shavings, I know what I would choose.  But my chickens beg to differ.

Helen (Reddy) has been insistent for several weeks that she be allowed to nest in the hay/straw aisle.  And each morning I have to pick her up and insist she go back to the coop.  After doing this several mornings,I finally got it through my thick head to place some straw in a nesting box as an experiment.

 Clearly Helen wasn't the only girl who thought that was a swell idea.  So I made two more.

Even with a choice of three straw nesting boxes, Helen still prefers the hay aisle.  And not just in the morning.  When the girls are allowed their free range time and i return to round everyone up, I often hear a squawking from the barn.  Sure enough, she has left the flock, returned to the barn, flown over the barrier to get cozy in the hay/straw and finds herself stranded, or so she thinks.

   She was a little perturbed to find herself the star of my Candid Camera video the other day.

 

And speaking of chickpeas...

A couple of nights ago I made a new recipe that was quick to whip up, tasty, and easily made vegan.

Pasta e Ceci (Italian Pasta and Chickpea Stew)

My version turned out more soup-like which was fine.  I used kale and fresh tomatoes since they're so plentiful right now.  And I omitted the pecorino.  Easy and just the ticket for an early fall dinner.

Callin' In the Crew

 Same words, same voice.  Usually.
I have my donkey voice and my chicken voice.  And generally say the same phrases for everyday tasks.  

Our normal routine is breakfast and morning chores around 8:30 or 9:00 a.m.  Out in the pasture, for both donks and hens at 1:00, back in at 3:00 for a snack.  So you need the words and the voice to get everyone back in where they belong.

Here donkeys are hauling some derrieres back in. 
Note:  If you were a fan of "The Closer", a TV series from a few years ago,  you clearly will never recognize my version of Brenda Lee Johnson's southern "thank yoooo". 

A logistical note.  I have just discovered the hard way that blogspot only allows videos of a minute in length.  My original video was 20 seconds over; trying to trim in a phone is a hack job at best.

My apologies.  

Usually I have to go round Luigi up, in the far corner.  In this instance he did finally come all the way.

 

I Want My Vet Back!

 So here's the deal.

Our dog vet, who is a mobile vet and comes to your home, has not been practicing since covid.  Our dogs are not high maintenance, BUT, we have a 13 year old

and we have a greyhound.  Under certain circumstances greys have special medical needs.

When I realized our vet (who is a combination of super smart and country doctor) was not returning soon, I went on a hunt for a vet who would come to the home to euthanize and one who knew greyhounds.  I settled on one to use in the interim.

And wouldn't you know Faith, the greyhound put us to the test.

We discovered this little gem on the inside of one of her thighs.  I did send a photo to our usual vet, he gave a virtual diagnosis and advised we see a vet who could remove it.

Well, after going through the riga-ma-roll of the new vet, Rick and I want out vet back.  To start the ball rolling the estimate included items we felt unnecessary, similar to another vet clinic we left in 2004.  Following surgery the vet didn't speak to us, a go-between was used.  Do we like her?  Who knows as we've never laid eyes on her or had an opportunity to speak to her on the phone. That's at least 2 strikes.   It wouldn't take much to get a third.

But the princess is fine.

Do not test us again, Faith!