Where have all the swallows gone?

 I need to think of a new title for this annual post,
but it's the only one that seems fitting when my feathered friends disappear 

to South America every September without so much as a "see you next year."

 They began acting strangely on Saturday. I watched them gather in a great big

disorganized clump high above the corral, much higher than they usually hang out.

It's like they were having a meeting. Maybe they were deciding who would leave first.

 In any event, by yesterday, all the swallows were gone. 

Interestingly enough, the majority of the flies have now disappeared as well. 

We'll only miss the swallows.

Meet the nameless new girls

At long last, I have expanded my flock of chickens from one to five.

Ten has been by herself since Peach died a few months ago.

While she did not seem lonely, I didn't want her to lead a solitary life,

and besides, I love keeping chickens. So on Thursday,

I picked up four new girls who are about four months old

and should start laying soon.

I have yet to name them, but I do know they will not be called

13, 14, 15 and 16.

This Americauna will lay bluish/greenish eggs.

There are two Barred Rocks in the group, who will likely be impossible 

to distinguish from each other.

See what I mean?

And this is a Sapphire Gem, a new breed from the Czech Republic that allegedly does well 

in hot climates and will have blue and lavender colored plumage.

I introduced them to Ten en masse, and everyone seems to be getting along just fine.

They spent their first two days cooped up, then I gave them access to the front yard,

where they met the feral beast, who proved once again that he's just a big chicken.

The feral beast can't be bothered

46 seconds with Alex and the feral beast

Not much to see here – no barking, hissing, or arguing through the fence. 

Just a puppy and a cat, casually getting to know each other on their own terms.
I'm going to stay out of it.

Checking in with the feral beast

And on the 96th day, it finally rained...

and then it snowed a little, then it rained again, and then the sun came out.

***

I've heard from several of you recently that your comments are not showing up.

While Blogger has never played well with certain browsers and devices,

the problem seems to have worsened in the past few weeks.

It may have something to do with an Apple product update, but I don't know for certain.  

Rest assured that while I moderate the comments to protect us all from Russian bots,

I publish all the legitimate ones that appear in my "awaiting moderation" folder.

Some legitimate comments have been showing up in my "spam" folder.

When I mark them as "not spam," they're supposed to go to the "awaiting moderation" folder, 

but they disappear completely instead.

My current workaround is to copy and paste them into the comments section.

Meanwhile, I'll be looking at alternative comment platforms, like Disqus, 

to see if there's a better way.

The feral beast at sunup

The feral beast goes hunting

A return to the back 40, the 2017 edition

In keeping with our annual tradition,
George and Alan return to the back 40
 to the music of David Tolk's "Autumn Gold."

2016 edition

2015 edition

While the cat is away

Saturday encore ~ Johnny's turn at bat

This encore post is from August 29, 2016. 

 I was in the sunroom, watching Johnny watching Something. 

I knew not what.

 Given Something's proximity to a swallow's nest, I figured Something to be: 

a) a rodent going after swallow eggs or
b) a snake going after the rodent going after the swallow eggs.

 Me: Get down, please, so that I might get a closer look take pictures.

 Eeewww. Eeewww. Eeewww.

 My batophobia kicked in, and
I insisted that the feral beast leave the area immediately.

 Of course he did not obey. Cats never obey...

 ...particularly cats who do not suffer from batophobia.

 So I just googled "fear of bats." It's called chiroptophobia, not batophobia,

which is stupid because I'm not afraid of chiropractors. I'm afraid of bats.

Anyway, I gave up and left the feral beast where he was, getting a stiff neck.

Oh wait. Maybe that's why it's called chiroptophobia? 

Because if you stare at a bat long enough you need a chiropractor? 

The bat remained in place and I sort of forgot about him until I went out to the barn to remove

masks and muzzles just before it got dark and sure enough, as I walked back onto the porch, 

the effing bat decided it was time to do what bats do, which is flap their leathery wings

and fly low and scare the hell out of people.

Have I mentioned I have an irrational fear of bats? 

Saturday encore ~ Hummingbird, don't fly away, fly away

This encore post is from September 2, 2016.

***
 
The feral beast and I had just finished a photo shoot of the vine

when who should cross our garden path but a female broad-tailed hummingbird...I think.

I'm pretty bad at the whole bird identification thing.

Whatever species...

...she sure was a beauty, and fearless, too –

I was standing about a foot away.

Hum along if you remember the Seals and Croft song from the seventies.

The sweetness of your nectar

Has drawn me like a fly

I just love you, love you, love you

I don't even know the reason why

Me: Don't even think about it.

Hummingbird: Is he fast enough to grab me out of the air?

Me: I hope not.

Hummingbird: Just one more sip and I'm out of here. No point taking chances.

Saturday encore ~ Smooch's stalker

This encore post is from July 8, 2016.