Blue Heron Farm Alpacas

I began this post more than a month ago, but now it is March 21, 2010, and yesterday I saw a bald eagle on Flint Ridge Road. It was on the shoulder, chowing down on some roadkill, and took flight as the car approached. Massive bird, white head, white tail feathers. I couldn't believe my eyes, but I checked the bird book when I got back home (it was still there on my return -- wish I'd thought to take a picture with my phone) and sure enough: unquestionably a bald eagle. When I returned this morning, however, camera at the ready, it had ceded the territory and the carcass to a couple of turkey vultures.

December, January and February were the  wettest months on record here -- rain or snow every three or four days. If the barnyard wasn't frozen, it was a swamp, ankle deep in mud, as is the pasture. But there was an early harbinger of spring -- my pair of geese returned. I actually first spotted them the third week in January and wondered if they would stay. Despite the terrible weather, they have.

The horses are muddy messes and they're going through hay at an alarming rate. (Eating keeps them warm, I'm told.) When I go out to the barn after breakfast (mine), Amelia usually meets me halfway to the horse trailer, followed by the back-up welcoming committee of Faith and Dolly. I open the gate and Windsong, Quicksilver and Chesapeake exit the barnyard, while Barry shadows me into the barn demanding his breakfast. Once it's clear that grain is forthcoming, the other three hightail it back, inhale their rations and clearly say, "Ok, so now where's the hay?" Last week I picked up a load (I can fit 31 bales in the pickup), parked the truck next to the gate and went into the house for another cup of coffee. At that time, the horses were still up at the barn, munching. When I was ready to take the load in, however, three of them were standing at the gate, gazing longingly at the truck. No problem, I thought. I'll open the gate, drive the truck through, and they'll follow the grub up to the barn. Not so much. Once the gate was open, they raced past the truck and into the yard. I gunned it up to the barn, grabbed lead ropes and halters, and ran back through the gate. By this time, Chesapeake -- the stay-behind -- had discovered that she was abandoned and was racing back and forth at the fence, distraught. Windsong declined to be caught and haltered, but Barry was minimally cooperative -- between huge bites of my neighbor's lawn -- and as I urged him back to my pasture, Windsong followed. Two down. Now Quicksilver realized he was the odd man out, the others having gone in search of the hay, so he galloped to the gate and I let him in. Did I mention that the lawns -- mine and my neighbor's and everyone else's -- are just as swampy as the pasture? So now they're pock-marked with hoofprints. Good times!

On the chicken front, my five-bird coop was getting pretty crowded with nine fullgrown specimens plus, more often than not, a guinea who seems to have decided he is a chicken, too. But yesterday Garland came and took his half home -- three hens and a rooster -- which leaves me with three hens and two roosters. (He managed the move by grabbing a bird, holding it upside down by the feet, then tying the legs together with string and putting the trussed-up bird in the bed of his truck.) Much more civilized living conditions for my chickenms now -- until the roosters start fighting each other which, I'm told, can happen.  And in the process of extricating chickens, I discovered three eggs! Which are now in my refrigerator.

See the guinea lurking in the middle there? While his two species-mates sensibly prowl the perimeter? The white-with-brown-accents rooster on the right is a major crower -- morning, noon and night -- which makes me glad the coop is as far away as it is.

Back at the house, Shadow continues to decline -- he now weighs less than 40 pounds and he has a hard time getting around because his hind legs are so weak. He has become resigned to the fact that he no longer comes along when the other dogs and I go for our morning walk; at first he would struggle to get out the door with us, but now he just watches us go from his spot under the table. 

He really is a wonderful dog, and when the time comes, I will miss him.

Next on the agenda is alpaca shearing on April 11. I finally got my act together and shipped off three years' worth of fleece (hello, empty guest closet!) to be processed into yarn. Not a cheap endeavor; I figure the cost of each 3-ounce skein to be $11 -- and that's just processing; it doesn't figure in the cost of caring for the animals. But it's wonderful, soft, 100% alpaca yarn, all natural, some grey and some black. (Louise's fleece is not yarn-worthy, so there's no white.)

And the daffodils are in bloom (the crocuses are already finished); the vegetable garden needs tilling and planting, and this morning I mowed the lawn for the first time in 2010. It must be spring!