Category: About My Chickens

Today is the first of November. In many years, the swans have flown in from Alaska and Siberia by now. On a number of years, I’ve seen them first flying on November 1, but not this year. Today’s blue skies had no swans.

The nearly grown ducklings are in training. Tomorrow they will be graduating from the tank in the garden to the pond. To reduce the trauma of me picking them up and carrying them to the pond, they are getting used to eating between the two gates leading into the garden. I can trap them in that enclosure, pick them up easily, and quickly carry them to the pond.

The chickens enjoy dry autumn days as much as I do. They find an endless supply of things to eat under the dried leaves.

We had our first frost yesterday. A very light frost. Just enough to dust the grass and fallen leaves. The forecast is for a freeze this weekend, maybe enough to make the wet ground crunch when you walk on it.

Yesterday’s sunshine has turned into a cold, windy mist this morning. Winter is coming and so are the swans. I’ve already seen flocks of snow geese flying overhead. And heard them too. Once, late at night, flying invisibly through the night sky. It’s amazing that these birds make these epic journeys without carrying any baggage. If humans could take to the skies like birds, we’d be burdened down with bags strapped to our backs, dangling from our bellies, small packs filled with goods clinging to our legs and arms, and head braces holding our phones in front of our faces so we have something to see when we get bored by earth’s incredible beauty below us.

But snow greese and swans take flight with nothing. They arrive with nothing. But from their chatter and honking, they seem perfectly happy.

The woods are too wet to burn. You could pour gasoline on them and they wouldn’t catch fire. But let there be a sliver of a break in the clouds at sunset, and the whole forest is ablaze.

Against the dark clouds, as thick and heavy as wet wool, the cottonwoods shine brightly. You can’t live in the Pacific Northwest if you don’t love clouds, appreciate infinite shades of gray and green, and don’t even notice that every time you go outside, you get wet. Umbrellas are more nuisance than help. Humans have waterproof skin. Hair dries. Let the mist cool your face. Let the rain dampen your hair.

I didn’t realize today’s date was so special until I sat down to write this. 20 20 10 10. Strung together, 20201010, it almost looks like code. I wonder if someone in the year 1010, on October 10, wrote down 10101010, paused, looked at it, and had a fleeting thought about it being so binary.

Fall has deepened. The leaves are starting to pile up. Between the intermittent cloud breaks, the sky is a deep autumn blue.

The birds have discovered the ripe Asian pears, 梨 (nashi). We’ve had so many I don’t mind. Is it the Stellar’s Jays, the Pileated Woodpeckers, or the Flickers that have found them? I’m guessing it is the Stellar’s Jays. And where did that name come from? From a German scientist, Georg Wilhelm Steller. Talk about a hard life. It took him ten years to reach Alaska. He didn’t even make it to the mainland. The boat he was on landed on Kayak Island off the coast of central Alaska. The captain wanted to stay just long enough to get water. Steller pleaded for more time to explore the island. The captain gave him 10 hours.

The crew was shipwrecked on their way back to Russia. They spent the winter on Bering Island where the captain died. They built a boat out of material salvaged from their wreck, and made their way back to Russia. But Georg Steller never made it back to his wife who stayed in St. Petersburg. On his way home he died of a fever at the age of only 37.

Talk about a sad, tragic tale. And I never would have known this if a Steller’s Jay hadn’t pecked at a ripe nashi by the garden making me wonder, where did that name come from?

What other names are there for these birds? The Chinook call them Iqesqes. In Lushootseed, one of the Salish languages of this area, they are called Kaykay.

Come to think of it, each year a Pileated Woodpecker or two finishes off the apples. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen any.

There are still plenty of big, ripe nashi to eat. I culled 75% of them at the start of summer and it paid off. This October I have the biggest, sweetest nashi I’ve ever had. Next year I may cull even more. It does make me wonder if I cull all of them save for one, will that one nashi grow to be the size of a basketball?

I received this wonderful hat woven from Merino wool by a wonderful person wanting to exchange it for some miso. It will be a wonderful reminder of 20201010. She threw in some nira ニラ seeds in too. I’ll remember 20201010 and Georg Steller when I harvest them.

Will she or won’t she hatch those ducklings? That was what I was wondering about Kaku. She’d been sitting on a second clutch of eggs for a long time. This morning I had my answer. She was swimming in the tank with three ducklings. Only, these weren’t day old ducklings. They were at least a week old. She’d managed to keep the secret for some time. Later I saw there were four ducklings, one circling the tank below, looking for her.

It’s always a joy digging up a potato plant. From one little 80 gram potato planted not that many months ago, 1.38 kilos of potatoes, 3 pounds of potatoes. That’s a 17 fold increase in just three months.

Late summer and the cat mint is in full bloom. The mornings have been cool enough to have the heat on a bit to take the chill off. I’m never ready for fall this time of year. I want August to go on much longer. But seeing the fall colors always changes my mind.

Recent rains interrupted our August sun, but it is back. The chickens are happy. Very happy.

The end of June chicks are over a month old. They no longer panic when they can’t see their mother. They can take a nap in the sunshine when they tire. They love to huddle.

And they are forever curious. Watching them run around chasing bugs, darting this way, that way, it’s a great way to spend a lazy summer day.

I forgot to pick up the coffee beans I ordered yesterday. Maybe it was the unexpected rain. The hint of fall in the air. I remembered this morning while grinding coffee that I forgot to pick the beans up yesterday afternoon. This afternoon was a better day to bike along Friday Creek to get coffee beans from Gilda. Visiting her coffee hut to get freshly roasted beans is always a joy.