Something Evil Lurks

Back to constructing

Bob is off to the mountains this weekend. He left his truck and keys home. That's good because I need to go to Lowe's to pick up some things to make show cages for my birds.

I ordered some two months ago, but they didn't get done. They apparently never even got started. I'm disappointed. I think the all-metal design would have been a great solution. There's no way I can weld or work with metal, though, and I need the pens NOW. So it's back to the drawing board.

I have plenty of cage space for the birds I'll eventually keep, but it will take a couple of shows before I can decide which ones those will be. In the meantime, the cockerels need to be separated before they kill each other.

I really hate this. I can handle the drawing board, but after that it gets dicey. I'm not good with power tools, I'm slow and a klutz. But I'm not totally stupid and I'm very, very persistent. If I keep at it all weekend I should be able to use the pens by next week.

I also really, really hate that with all the crap you can buy online, it's seldom ever the things I really need.

Peaceful Household...or maybe not

JAN Reports:

This week the kitten learned to handle his claws even better. He almost has soft paws now. (Also I clipped his claws a little shorter.) His bites are becoming pinches and are hopefully on their way to kisses instead. I discovered when I play my new CD, Aikane Kuikawa, he stops tearing around the house, calms down and goes to sleep. When he's asleep I can actually use my keyboard and life is almost okay.

The new CD was mailed directly to me from Kauai by Paul Togioka, the Hawaiian slack string guitarist who recorded it. I love his previous CD, which I found in a small gift store on the island last year, and play it all the time. So when I ran across Paul's email address online I sent him a note to thank him for his music. He immediately answered back. What a treat! I found out he had a newer CD and he dropped one in the mail to me. I love it, too.

Here is the kitten snoring away to Paul's peaceful music. What an idyllic scene.

GOLLIE Reports:

Oh sure, look at the darling little stinky kitten. I climbed up here to the window to enjoy the morning sunshine and he came along and plopped across my escape route. How am I supposed to get out of here?

I can go behind this dusty computer, but there's a mess in the way. Chicken stuff, potted plants, doo dahs, where does all this crap come from? If I'm not careful I'll knock something over and get in trouble. It's for sure I'll get my tidy white feet dirty.

I've been in this house for eight years. I know every nook and cranny, but I can't use them now because that despicable kitten is always hiding and popping out at me, trying to touch me with his poopy paws, even eating from my bowl! How nasty is that? That thing has GOT to go.

Does anyone have a recipe for kitten stew?

Plastic Fences

There are two common types of stock fences in California. The older ones use wooden posts with wire. Newer ones often use metal posts that you pound into the ground. People commonly mend older fences by replacing the wooden posts that have rotted with new metal posts. This sort of fence is not very attractive, but it has stood the test of time. You in England might rightly point out that even the oldest California fences are still young. They might not last for centuries like your lovely rock fences have.

It is a popular thing to take land that was once a ranch, get it rezoned, and chop it into small "ranchettes." One thing new owners need to think about is what kind of fence to put around their property. A lot of people like the way a white board fence looks. Those are mostly decorative, however. As many a ranchetter has discovered, horses or cows can walk right through one.

A newer option is plastic fencing. It's supposed to be more sturdy, it doesn't rot, and horses can't chew it. Today I saw one disadvantage to plastic fencing that I hadn't foreseen.

When there's a grass fire, it melts. You have to replace the entire fence. Animals can step right over the mess and wander away. Even short animals.

The ugly little metal fence that is next door to the plastic one survived the fire and is still totally functional. When it needs repairs, the owner just leaves the old wire in place and runs a new strand or two. It's hard to see, but this is a 5 strand fence.

I wonder what Walt Whitman would say about plastic fences?

Finally Mellowing

The kitten is 11 weeks old. The past two weeks have not been the greatest, as he buzzes around the house knocking things over and getting into everything. He has also been learning how to have "soft paws" and not to constantly bite. My arms and legs are a mass of scratches and bites.

Just recently, though, the kitten has actually started napping during the day. Mostly he wants to sleep on my mouse pad, with the mouse between his paws. Not good. Sometimes he'll sleep in my lap, with his head on my arm. That would be okay except he likes to snuggle his nose into the inside of my elbow and lick. I don't think there's a human alive who could tolerate that for long.

So it was a pleasant surprise to finally have the little dear curl up on my shoulder this morning without chewing on my ear or my face, or batting at my glasses. Here is the proof.

He's almost civilized now, ready for a new home and a name.

Annoying Roommate

My son Bob lives with me. Mostly this is fine, we seldom see each other but it's nice to have someone else in the house. Like any roommate, though, he can be annoying.

I have an abundance of eggs right now. I also have about 10 pounds of cream cheese that I stupidly bought at Costco. This morning I thought I'd bake a cheesecake.

Problem:

Where is the bottom of the pan? I always put the bottom back in the pan when I put it away because, being a flat piece, it is almost impossible to find in the cupboard. So. Where. Is. It?

Was it Bob's turn to do the dishes and it needed to be scrubbed, so he threw it away?

Did he use it for something else, like drawing circles, and didn't put it back?

Did he put it somewhere else?

All I know is I have a big bowl of cheesecake going on and nothing to bake it in. Puts me in a really nasty mood.

First I had to drag all the baking stuff out of the cupboard.

This is more fun if there's another person in the house - especially a guilty one - because I can throw the pans around and make a lot of huffy noise. This morning it was just me and the kitten.

Guess what? No bottom there. Also not in three other places that are just as annoying to search.

So now I'm either off to buy a new one or I'll just throw out the cheesecake filling. I don't eat it, anyway.

Now, why are there only 2 plates left in the cupboard? Where are the rest of them? There should be more than 3 forks in the silverware drawer.

Back to the apples

Bob and I were hauling brush clippings down to the far end of the property this past weekend. When we passed the row of fruit trees out in the Christmas tree field, he stopped the truck and said, "Let's pick some more peaches for a pie."

While Bob was picking peaches, I grabbed some more apples. Remember the failed pie? Those apples.

I got a few for applesauce and a few for the horses.

Bob said, "Look at the apples on the ground. The rabbits and birds won't even touch them." He was right. The groundfall peaches, on the other hand, were well-nibbled.

When we got back to the house, I tossed the horses' apples over the fence to them. Blue Top, the equine vacuum cleaner, sniffed one. And then walked away. Neither horse would even taste an apple. Four days later the apples still sit in the dirt in the horse pen. That didn't bode well for my attempts to cook the rest of them into something edible. Maybe losing that pie was a good thing.

The apples still sit in their bowl. At least they're nice to look at.

Too Stupid for Words

I just got back from a trip to the feed store and to the food store.

The food store was one of those big warehouse-type places where there are good prices, but you have to bag your own groceries. I was trying to do that, and getting far behind as a long line of ladies started to form at the counter to check out.

They were all wearing name badges. The clerk, an older white lady, asked if they all knew each other.

"Yes," one of them answered. "We're at a training session just down the road, learning how to administer the new health care system that's going into effect."

The clerk grimaced. "Well, I hate Obamacare."

No one said anything, so she continued. "It ain't gonna work, everybody is gonna lose their health insurance." All the ladies in line just smiled. I was standing behind the clerk, still busy at my packing, but my ears perked up.

The clerk said, "I hate that Obama. I hope he don't have much longer in office and don't get re-elected."

At that point I rolled my eyes and did the twisty finger by the ear thing that signifies "cuckoo."

The ladies in line just kept smiling.

More Cars on the Levee

This was the scene looking out across the horse pasture yesterday afternoon. There was a wrecked car on the levee and a wrecked pickup in the middle of the highway. The Friday afternoon traffic was backed up for miles in both directions.

I had been outside for over an hour but heard neither the wreck nor the sirens. Maybe I've just gotten accustomed to noisy background sounds, there are a lot of thumps and bumps when the tractors go by the backyard. And there are at least two sirens a day that go past my house.

Or maybe I'm just getting old. And I can't hear as well. Or I don't care.

Anyway, the truck was pretty smashed.

The car was, too.

But the drivers seemed to be okay, there was no ambulance. They were walking around waving their hands in the air and pointing at each other. They weren't neighbors of mine, evidently people just passing through, probably a little faster than necessary.

There have always been a lot of wrecks near my house. Years ago the road was not safe for speeders or drunk drivers. These days the road is safe, the drivers are not.

Trapper Jan

In one of my past lives, I think I was a French trapper in the early U.S. wilderness. I explored the vast western territories, trapping a few animals along the way and camping under the stars.

In this life, when I was younger, I still loved to ride unmarked trails and camp under the stars. And I'm very good at trapping.

I no longer trap animals to eat, or for their fur, though. I nab them so I can take them to SPCA to be neutered and for their shots.

It only took me 3 days to trap the black cat and her 3 kittens. The first kitten was ignorant and wandered into the trap. It took 2 days to catch the second one, I had to cleverly disguise the trap. I left the second in its trap and set the other trap right next to it, using it for bait to catch the mom. Then I left the mom in her trap and used her for bait to catch the last kitten.

I took the mom in Monday morning. Had to think of a name for her on the way in. She's very small, barely 5 pounds, and has big eyes, and she's smart. I named her Linda, after one of my favorite bosses at the Office of Education.

Coincidence: after I dropped off the cat I stopped by Raley's to pick up some groceries and ran into Linda herself. That was fun.

I had planned to take the 3 kittens to SPCA on Sunday, when it only costs $15 instead of $45 for each cat. I thought the kittens needed to weigh 2 pounds. But no. SPCA wants them to be 4 months old. So I'll be keeping them penned for another 6 weeks.

There was a scary moment when I put the last kitten in the pen. The first two had run out of the trap and to the back corner of the pen, where I set up a hidey hole for them. The last kitten ran out of the trap, did a U-turn and headed right back at me and the door. I caught it in midair and got bit 3 times before I finally got it headed in the right direction, pulled it off my arm, and got the cage door closed.

Luckily, I had just bought a new bottle of hydrogen peroxide at Raley's. Today you can't tell those bites from many others on my arm.

Linda is doing fine. I put her in the pen that I kept Carla in after her surgery last year. Carla turned the pen into her own private space. She came back to it for weeks afterward to sleep at night and get special food treats. I don't think that's going to happen with Linda, she is extremely feral, more like Gollie was. (And still is, sometimes.)

I've been keeping a list of things that are difficult to do when there's a kitten in the house.

• Sleep
• Eat
• Get dressed
• Walk
• Anything on the computer

It's especially hard to tie your shoes. Velcro straps aren't any easier. I have velcro on my sandals. Sandals aren't a good idea, either.

Most difficult time this week: I have 3 folders open on my computer, trying to move files from two of them to the third folder. I need to rename some of the files. Kitten is messing with the mouse. Kitten is traipsing across the keyboard. He renames one of the folders x83/ (discovered after trying to find the one I was using). I select 5 files to move to a folder. Halfway there, kitten pounces on the mouse. Files are scattered on my desktop. I get mad. I forget which folder they came from. I toss kitten on the floor. He's like a boomerang, he uses the cat scratcher to climb up on the table behind me, sneaks around the monitor, and pounces on the mouse again. This time he bites me. I go outside before he gets seriously hurt. He crawls down into my nice warm office chair and finally takes a nap.

Do they make sleeping pills for kittens, I wonder?

And no, he still doesn't have a name. I can never remember your suggested name, YP, all I can think of is Piddles.

MacArthur Park

Do you recall this song that Richard Harris sang in 1968?

I'm sure I heard it at least 100 times (and hated it every time). But I only remember these four lines:

"Someone left the cake out in the rain.
I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again, oh no!"

The song never made sense to me. I hadn't a bit of experience with drugs (and still don't), so I assumed it was just some kind of psychedelic garble that was beyond me. Jimmy Webb, who wrote MacArthur Park, says that his song was not drug-inspired, it was simply about a relationship that ended - love being likened to a cake left out in the rain. He was writing about his own relationship with Susan Ronstadt, Linda's cousin.

Maybe so, but this song came back to me today, and it finally makes sense to me, personally. You just have to substitute "pie" for "cake."

Bob and Anna picked some apples and peaches a few days ago. They planned to make pies after work. I told them I'd make some dough for the crusts ahead of time, in case they didn't get home early enough. They did show up late and only got one peach pie and a peach cobbler made. There were 4 unused pie crusts.

I can't eat pie because I'm diabetic. I wouldn't eat it anyway, I never really liked it. But I was up the next morning at the crack of dawn and decided, since it was nice and cool, I'd make a crumb crust pie out of the apples.

I don't care what my own food looks like, but if I'm cooking for others I strive for perfection.

I rolled the crust out to a perfect circle and carefully tamped it into the pie pan. I made a fancy border with one of the few forks Bob hasn't hauled off somewhere. Then I peeled and sliced the apples, each slice the same thinness as the others so they'd bake evenly. I didn't just throw the slices in the pie pan, I placed each one, overlapping them around the circle, building up to small mountain in the middle, but not so steep the crumb topping would fall off.

I made the topping, using some wonderful cinnamon I'd bought, pure cane sugar, and butter from pastured cows. I spooned it on top of the pie, making sure it was the same depth all round. It was quite the masterpiece.

Then I transferred the pie plate to a baking sheet, opened the oven door...

...and the whole damned pie slid off onto the floor, face down. After cursing and throwing things and generally acting like it was the end of the world, I scraped the pie off the floor and gave it to the horses.

The Tipping Point

Raising animals is not as easy as it sometimes appears. When you have multiple animals, it's an ongoing job to maintain the delicate balance that keeps everything healthy, happy, and safe. I have found some strategies that help:

• Consider all weak spots and fix them. One marauding raccoon can teach you a lot about how to build better pens.
• Establish continuity. Animals are creatures of habit. It's important for you to know their habits, but it's also helpful if they know what to expect from you. Animals do not thrive in chaos.
• Do not exceed the limits of your capacity. You can always build more pens, but there comes a point when there is just too much to maintain and peace is not sustainable.

My bird pens are pretty safe. I have routines that keep the chores handled. But I have been pushing the capacity limits. I hatched 135 chicks this year; not all at the same time, but within a 4 month span. The oldest cockerels are already starting to annoy each other. They really need to be in single pens, to keep them in show shape. I'm having pens made, but they aren't here yet. The youngest chicks have been maturing and need to be moved to the pens now occupied by the older chicks.

It's all a matter of timing. There are folks who would like to buy some of my birds, but birds can't be shipped until the temperature cools in the late fall. I have separated the pullets and put them out of sight, hoping the boys will get along better that way. I give them sweet corn and squash so they have something to peck on instead of each other. So far, so good, but it's a shaky situation.

While I was busy building grow out pens, and then staying inside on the couch to let my back recover from all the busy building, I managed to stumble outside twice a day and take care of the animals. Everything was fed and watered, but I neglected to follow my routine of gathering the pigeon eggs.

Presto! Without birth control, the pigeon population soared past the tipping point. There were suddenly 50 of them. I started leaving their small door open all day so they could spread outside and have more room, while I contemplated what to do. At the same time, the feral kittens had grown and become an annoyance to all the adult cats. I understand, from having their pesky brother in the house, what that's like. The adults were out hunting for something - anything -  to keep the kittens occupied. They weren't hungry, I feed them all. A lot. They were looking for the cat equivalent of video games...mice.

There are no mice left near the house, except for the pigeon pen. The kittens' uncle Boots must have smelled those and followed his nose through the little open door that's 4 feet off the ground. He got into the pen. He terrified the pigeons and they evacuated.

I chased the cat out of the pigeon pen, and left the doors open so the birds would go back in their pen the way they have always done. But they didn't.

For three days they would not go back. While the door was open, I had to keep chasing curious cats out of the pen. The pigeons observed this from their nearby perches. In the afternoon, I took my Kindle and sat near the pen, hoping my presence would encourage the older birds to return. The younger ones would follow.

The older ones know me and they know the routine...the lady with the white bucket brings food. But it didn't work. By day three the pigeons were all hungry and thirsty. I would not feed or water them outside the pen. When I used the hose to water chickens, the pigeons tried to sip off the sidewalk. They still stayed outside.

A gallon of cat repellent sprayed on the outside of the pen finally convinced the cats to stop hanging around. On the fourth day, I made a big show of hauling the white bucket to the pen. I shook some food into the feeder and threw a little just inside the doorway. I had just about given up when the eldest bird, the Old German Owl, flew down and started eating. Within 3 minutes all but 2 of the birds had followed him in and I was finally able to close the doors. It took me a couple more days to catch the stragglers, they were very young.

I caught 25 of the pigeons, all youngsters. A dozen went to a friend who raises poultry and loves pigeons. A dozen went to the auction. The remaining birds have been locked in since then. They seem to have no interest in leaving the pen. I bought another bottle of cat repellent and spray some fresh every day to keep nosy cats away.

In the meantime, I've also started trapping the feral kittens. There are 3, plus the mother cat, that need to be taken to SPCA and neutered. The mother can come back here, the babies will be going a mile up the road to Davis Ranch's tractor shop. I have one kitten left to catch. The mama has an appointment in the morning, then I can either take the kittens in one at a time or wait until the Sunday morning clinic and take them all at once.

There are still too many cats here. There are still too many chickens. Everything is just coasting until the next problem pops up.

Other impediments

I cannot just sit at my computer, as I used to, and pop off a blog post. I tried that today, and this is what happened.

Yes, those are kitten scratches and bites on my arm. He isn't mean, he just goes berzerk when he plays. And he plays constantly.

I saw a little video online about a dog and a cheetah that grew up together in a zoo. The narrator said the cheetah is much faster than the dog but can't play as long because cats don't have much stamina. I beg to disagree. This kitten runs on Energizer batteries.

I can be patient most of the day. By late afternoon, though, I'm tired of stumbling around trying not to step on the imp that jumps out of his hiding places and grabs my feet. At least 15 times a day he tries to climb my legs to sit on my lap. I daren't wear anything but long, heavy denim pants.

The words I most often speak during a day are, in this order: "NO!!!!", "Stay Down!" and "No Bite!" By 5 p.m. I'm so tired of being a pincushion I'm likely to be speaking those words very loudly, with a lot more exclamation points and a few curses thrown between.

About the time I'm ready to drop kick Kitten down the basement steps, he comes and asks nicely to be picked up, then snuggles on my shoulder and purrs in my ear for his 15 minute break.

The kitten's siblings are in the wood shed, running amok and making the other feral cats unhappy. Their uncle Boots had been trying to help his sister hunt. I guess raw, fresh meat is what it takes to settle kittens down. And that was the cause of a big problem last week that I'll tell you about tomorrow.

Stuck in a Reading Mode

When I was building the grow out pens and hurt my back, I stayed on the couch for a week. That was the only place where there was no pain. I slept there during the night, too. Sitting on a couch can be boring, but it's also something I scarcely ever get to do. So I took advantage of the time by dragging out my Kindle and reading a few of the books I have stored on it.

The week I was on the couch I read four books. By the end of the week I had totally fallen into "reading mode" and even though my back was better, I couldn't stop reading.

I'm just now finishing my 12th book.

The Sharing Knife series (4 books), Lois McMaster Bujold
The Spiritwalker trilogy, Kate Elliott
Stardust, Neil Gaiman
The Bone Doll's Twin (3 books), Lynn Flewelling
A Dance with Dragons, George RR Martin (I prefer the books to the TV series)

I'm a very fast reader, thanks to a wonderful speed reading course I took way back in my high school years. I love trilogies and series. I'm also an intense reader. I get totally absorbed in the world an author creates. I've spent a lot of time in medieval places this month.

I can come out of these worlds and trudge through my chores, but I don't seem to be able to binge read and write at the same time.

I've read 88% of my final book. Tonight, when I finish it, I will recharge the Kindle and return it to my bedstand drawer. Tomorrow I will wake up back in my own world, where there are no dragons and no mages. Where people can drive cars instead of walking or riding horses. And where evil does not lurk behind every bush (just a kitten who attacks feet).

And once I purge my brain of all those authors' words, maybe I can write a decent blog post.

In the meantime, here's a current kitten picture.