Yellow bird

This little bird knocked itself out on my office window this morning coming to the seed feeder, presumably. Fortunately I made it to the bird before Cody, the teddy-bear eared backyard dog who would've seen it as a protein supplement.

After a few minutes of nurturing in my hand it regained consciousness and flew off. I am thinking it is a juvenile of some kind of vireo or warbler, but I will ask some of my expert birding friends for an ID. It has an unbroken white eyering, no prominent white bars on the wings, is small, with olive on the top and yellow below. If you think you might know, do tell.

Since I already have a rooster temporarily in the house--who we've named Orville by the way (to go with our Ameraucana hen Kitty Hawk)--I'm relieved not to have a wild charge at the moment. This is the best kind of rescue, where the happy ending comes quickly!

UPDATE:
My friend and birding photographer Larry Ditto, has kindly identified it as a Mourning Warbler in fall plumage. You can see his fabulous photos here. Thanks, Larry!

New roo

Yesterday I got a call from my friend Joan saying she had a cockerel in need of a home (read: her husband was going to eat him if he wasn't relocated soon) and that my husband already said I could have him if I wanted him. I found this 'preauthorization' process sort of interesting.

Apparently she and Jim had picked up four Ameraucana pullets, and recently discovered one was, in fact, a rooster. Once he started crowing their rooster decided to get rid of him, and fighting ensued.

I have been without an Ameraucana rooster since my beloved Avo's untimely demise back in December. (Although I did rescue Mr. Blue from the eventual frying pan of Dos Bubba's, the plumbers, he's not 100% Ameraucana.) Kitty Hawk, Alzina, and Desser Mae have been in need of a beau for a while, since Avo's preference had been the company of sheep.

This fellow has more black flecks on his chest than Avo (in my banner head) and his comb is a bit frilly, but otherwise he looks line a fine bird for the breeding program. No name has surfaced yet, but I'm sure we'll think of something as his personality becomes more evident.

I can tell he hasn't been handled much, so he isn't very friendly--yet. He tried to peck my hand this morning. But he will be in quarantine (the utility room) for two months and I'll work with him. He's certainly got a set of lungs on him as he woke us up at 4 a.m. Farmer Rick couldn't say too much about it on account of the preauthorization and all.

Sunday Stills: In a Jam !

Farmer Rick has been recuperating nicely from his surgery, and the pathology report confirmed that the cancer was removed with a safe margin, so no other treatment will be necessary. This is a huge relief to us! Last week I was his substitute, teaching music and theater to 200 kids on top of my own private students and doing both our farm chores! I will continue doing this until he feels well enough to return, hopefully sometime next week.

For this week's Sunday Stills, Ed gave us a 'potluck' choice on the imagery for the challenge, and, of course, something presented itself first thing this morning. (And, it also makes up for my absence in last week's Hands challenge!)

I found this female hummingbird quite literally stuck in a jam--the grape jelly that goes on the new Oriole feeder for our orange feathered friends!

You can see all the breast feathers she left behind trying to wiggle out of the stuff. Poor thing, probably spent the night stuck in the jam. She was weakened and shivering when I found her, almost limp in my hand. After a rinse off and towel dry at the kitchen sink, I knew she needed some food right away. I have helped with several hummingbird banding projects locally, and my job has always been to feed and release them, so I'm a pro at this part! Fill 'er up!

The other hummingbirds didn't seem to mind. Maybe they even understood I was helping out.

Thank you for my new feeder, and removing whatever that was stuck in my grape jelly!

No problem, really.

The Hooded Oriole pair showed up about two days ago and I had their feeder waiting. The last two years I modified a regular hummingbird feeder to fit their beaks. This was taken right after extracting the little hummer.

For more potluck images visit Sunday Stills!

Macro Monday: Turtle

In the decade of living here, we have never before seen a turtle on the property. Living near the river it is not an unlikely inhabitant, but unexpected all the same. (Maybe it came over from our neighbor's pond, as all their ducks seem to have taken up residence in my front yard.) Cody--who made the discovery yesterday afternoon--was very wary of this unusual being. I'm not sure why the turtle was against the fence, but obviously that was not a good decision.

I will have to look it up for identification, as I'm not familiar with native turtle species. It could very well be someone's released exotic pet, too. The chickens were certainly keeping a wide berth!

Enlarged, I could see myself reflected in the turtle's very blue eye!

After a few photos, I relocated it farther away from the backyard, down in the creek. It would be nice to have a resident turtle.

For more macro images, visit Macro Monday!

Until Death Do Us Part

I should have known something was up when Avo was crowing at 2:30 a.m. This morning we found Phoebe laid out cold on our morning rounds, and on closer inspection her remaining blind eye, as blue as the Earth from space, blinked. We moved her into the sun where I fed her warm molasses water with electrolytes. She perked up a little and gummed an apple and some alfalfa, but went slowly downhill and passed in my arms.

She had been feisty, her usual self in the days before. The only thing I noticed was she was foaming around the mouth whenever she ate the last couple days, and today discovered a hard mass under her jaw and she appeared anemic. 

Nobody knew how old she was when we found her three years ago by the side of the road, poorly cared for, blind, and presumably hit by a car. She always looked sort of rag tag, but we gave her the best of care and loved her just the same. Because of the neurological damage she always walked in circles and her hooves grew shaped like bananas because she always went in the same direction. You could tell her general mood by the diameter of the circle. Our vet didn't think she'd make it, but she was one tough sheep. So tough--and much to our surprise--she dropped a lamb a few weeks later--two rescues for the price of one!

The vet did not expect Finley to live either, but, of course, he did too. For Avo the outcast rooster, she became the big fuzzy hen of his dreams and she put up with him in a way no one else would. They were inseparable. Farmer Rick and I are heartbroken, and Finley and Avo will be at a loss without her.

This video was taken just last month, you can see the happy trio together.





Interestingly, right before Phoebe passed a raven flew overhead in the direction of North. Native Americans believed the raven was an omen of death, and that they carried the souls of the dead away. North represented winter and old age.

Farmer Rick had to leave for a school rehearsal, and we will bury her before the evening performance. Death is never convenient. We put Finley out to graze earlier and I just let him back into the pen to say farewell. He did not seem to recognize or even be curious about the lifeless body of his mother; instead he looked in all directions crying out for the life force he once knew her as.

Blog Friends Meet

Friday afternoon while driving through the Manzano and Sandia Mountains of New Mexico we were able to stop in to visit my blog friend Lisa and her wonderful family at Laughing Orca Ranch. We met through the Sunday Stills Photography Challenge.

We're both two tall southwestern ranch girls with cameras and lots of interesting animals! We are posing with the fly-masked Baby Doll, her lovely paint mare.

Here is Latte, a Mini LaMancha goat with the sweetest blue eyes and elfin ears. I want one!!!

And Moon Pie (or is it his sibling Mud Pie?) giving hand nibbles.
One of our many shared interests is in preserving heritage breeds. Both of us have Gold Lace Polish roosters ruling our roosts. To the left in the flock is a Churro, one of New Mexico's heritage sheep whose coarse wool is used in the making of rugs. Farmer Rick loved the llamas and now he wants one. (I have wanted a llama for a long time).

We loved the horse trailer too!!!

Lisa, thanks so much for the tour, cookies, tea and home grown peaches! Farmer Rick and I enjoyed our visit and hope you will come see us sometime!

Space Alien Stick Invasion

I'll take care of that pesky monster for you!

A Photo About Gain

Excuse me, but can you spare a saucer of milk?

Sunday Stills: Eyes

These eyes belong to Francisco, our Husky-wolf rescue dog. He's afraid of storms, gunshots, fireworks, and other dogs. Oddly, he gets along well with cats.

This fearful eye belongs to Cody, our Chow mix that was severely abused by his first owner. I have spent years helping to restore his trust in people.

This is the blind eye of Phoebe, our rescue sheep, looking like the Earth from the moon. Her other eye unfortunately had to be removed because of damage. I found her dying on the side of the road, where we suspect she'd been hit by a car. The vet did not want to tell me she probably wouldn't make it.

But she did, through much nurturing. And--a big surprise to us all--delivered Finley a month later. We had no idea we were rescuing two! He has beautiful eyes.

And of course, the eye of Avo, their rooster. He thinks Phoebe is his big, fuzzy "hen" and is certain Finley is his son. His secret desire is for all of us to be part of his flock.

Check out all the other eyes at Sunday Stills.

Stride Rite for Chickens

Compared with our first flock (from a different hatchery) two years ago, we've had some problems with this one requiring more of my energy and time. Since my last posting we lost a Buff Laced Polish and Silver Laced Polish, both of which went downhill within a day's time.

The swollen eye of the Salmon Faverolle has since burst. She's been treated and separated with this Cuckoo Marans born with deformed feet. The hatchery is sending the unfulfilled portion of the order with replacements in April, and suggested euthanizing the latter two. I'm willing to work with both of them, and if they cannot be integrated back with the flock they can go live with Teddy Bird in the CWD (Chickens With Disabilities) coop.


At first I thought the Marans just had spraddled legs, but taping them together made no difference, because her crooked, rubbery feet offered no stability. I've since spread her toes apart and taped them down as they should look, and to straighten her feet I've taped half a q-tip from her middle toe up her leg. Although this is forcing her to walk on her toes without bending her ankle, at least she can walk now. I can only hope with nutrition and time everything will grow stronger and straighter.

I will make adjustments every few days, and see how she progresses.

A Different Kind of Animal Rescue

It's decidedly difficult to be in a creative profession especially if you have to interrupt the flow to be your own bookkeeper or turn out a proposal. Even an overcast day can dim your artistic soul. On these days I try to discover something new and outside my personal world to engage and kick start my mind. One of the best ways to do this, I've found, is to follow links from links from links to see where you end up. Somehow I started with NPR's song of the day, and followed different musicians to different play lists to this odd bit of animation/music video (have your speakers on). It's not really my kind of music but I thought the animation fit the words well.

I thought about doing animation once, half a life ago and even interviewed in the Big Apple for a position in the days before computer graphics, but decided the City was just too crazy for me. I like the simplicity of this kind of animation, which reminds me of my childhood. (Does anyone remember Cecil the Seasick Sea Serpent?) Of course I like chickens and animal rescue stories!

Random Act of Compassion and Stupidity

Sundays have become the day we take Francisco on an "adventure walk" which might be to the river, or to the pioneer cemetery, or down some ranch road. Although he is on leash, he loves to flush deer and other critters from the brush.

This week it was quite an adventure for us all. We came upon a beautiful fox trapped in a deadly snare fighting for its life. This is likely the same fox who keeps our field mice population in check that was sighted in our pumpkin patch this summer by our farm sitter.

Foxes mostly eat rodents, beetles, berries, and occasionally birds. They are not predators of cattle, so there was no sense to this trap. We raise chickens and have not lost any to the fox or other predators, only to our own dogs. Out of compassion we returned with various snipping implements to free him.

A snare is like a small braided metal noose with a Chinese torture device attached--the more the animal struggles, the tighter the noose becomes, unable to release the tension. Fortunately this fellow caught it in his mouth and was not exactly choking to death but he was frantically trying to chew through it and cutting up his mouth.

We could not find any of our umpteen pairs of gloves. The snare was so tight our long armed loppers were useless, and might have done more damage than the snare. Time was running out, so I just grabbed him and instead of fighting he just relaxed in my arms so that the tin snips could do their work. My first thought was he would instantly bound away, but he just laid in my arms and nuzzled his snoot into my coat.

He willingly got in the car with us, and I took him into our infamous guest bathroom, which has been a recovery ward for many animals, both domestic and wild. He let me feed him electrolyte solution with an eye dropper, and clean the blood out of his mouth. I checked him all over to make sure he didn't have any other injuries. His stomach gurgled and he let out a belch that smelled like road kill. Then he gave a sigh just like my dogs do, and fell asleep in my arms.



I petted and massaged him for half an hour, then transferred him to a pet carrier. I checked him every half hour and petted him through the grill. After about four hours of rest I knew he was better when he gave me a wild look of defiance, as to say "Oh, yeah, now I remember, I'm a fox!" So we loaded him up and released him in a large protected natural area. He took off in the direction of our place, so maybe we'll see him again.

Monday I was at the veterinarians getting shots for a couple of our dogs, and on hearing my story the vet said "Well, at least you didn't get bit" and then I admitted I did. You see, the last time I reached in to pet him, he tapped my thumb. It happened so quickly at first I didn't realize it until I saw blood coming from the teeth marks above my thumbnail. "It was just a little bite". Then I learned foxes are one of the high risk rabies carriers in our area. I hadn't thought about that. He recommended I go immediately to my doctor. I told him I'd be OK and would take my chances. He said "It's been nice knowing you".

I went to my doctor who sent me to the State Department of Health, where I learned all about rabies, how the shots had to be dispensed within 72 hours (it had already been 24) and the exorbitant cost of the vaccine--$1,400 not including my doctor's fee to administer them. I called my insurance company whose rep told me the health department was not "in-network" yet could not direct me to an in-network provider.

My husband took the news well and was supportive of my dilemma. After all, he wasn't exactly a bystander in all this. He had just spent the day building a new greenhouse door, and was grappling with the fact it was upside down and inside out from what he'd planned and was going to have to rip it apart and re-do it. His mistake only cost $14 and a half day of work. (He finished it today and it's fabulous!) He is so wonderfully understanding.

Researching Texas rabies statistics online, it appeared every one in four fox bites turned out to be rabid. That's a 25% chance on 100% fatality. My homesteading friends encouraged me to get them. Tuesday I picked up the vials, signing the Human Rabies Biologicals Payment Agreement and Surveillance Report, and headed over to my doctor's. The nurses prepared a bouquet of syringes. I got two shots of Human Rabies Immune Globulin in the top of my thumb (@#%&!), and the rest of that in two shots in the same arm. Then, six shots of Rabavert divided between my two shoulders. I left with cotton wads taped to both shoulders looking like I'd had wings amputated.

I go back tomorrow for another round of shots, and three more times this month. The good news is I ought to be covered another 30 years for rabies so if you amortize it the cost doesn't sound so bad. Hey, we might even get to itemize medical expenditures for once on our taxes. Knowing me I will find another occasion to stick my thumb into a wild creature's mouth. (We have since purchased many new pairs of gloves).

Watching the fox bound away was entirely worth it.