Saturday, August 31, 2019

Broody Hen

In all the chaos of missing kittens, I forgot to mention that our broody hen, Jennie, is back in business. 
Over the years, the broodiness trait, in other words the behavior causing a hen to sit for prolonged periods of time on a clutch of eggs, has been bred out of chickens. It's fairly uncommon to encounter a broody hen, but Jennie is one of the best! In fact, she's so dedicated, that she's been known to steal the other hen's eggs. Right now, she's sitting on 13 eggs! A variety of Barred Rock, Australorpe and Aracauna eggs in shades ranging from green to brown.
From the time she started sitting, to Hatching Day is usually 21 days, give or take 48 hours. Which, by my calculations, is Monday! Sept. 2nd! So... SOON!!!!
It's difficult to tell, though. We're assuming that not all 13 eggs are fertilized. And then, there's the problem of her stealing eggs, because she was STILL stealing them about 6 days ago. That's an age difference of about 2 wks. I'm not sure how that will work!
When Jennie goes broody, she RARELY comes off that nest, so I haven't been able to see if any of the eggs are pipping (small pecks in the egg from the chick inside) or peeping! :/  She's a champ at turning them with her feet and beak and tucking ALL thirteen under her. Its GOT to be uncomfortable! 
We've been through this once before. 2 years ago, Jennie went broody and hatched 2 chicks. One died, but we still have her son, the red rooster, named Quita. (Yeah, I know. Quita means Little Girl in Spanish, but we thought HE was a SHE for a long time, and the name just stuck. Seriously, I don't think Quita minds). 

So this story is to be continued. :) We hope to have some good news to share with everyone soon. 

Thursday, August 22, 2019

The Kittens Are Back

The kittens are back! I understand that many of you had no idea the kittens were gone, and slightly fewer of you who didn’t realize we had any kittens at all! But a week ago last Weds. a woman answered my Facebook plea about needing a feral cat to help with the proliferation of mice in our barn. She said she’d caught two kittens, did I want one? And, against my better judgement, I said, ‘Give me both!’

I left within the hour and picked up the two 10 wk old boys, and was instantly smitten. The family settled on the names Panda and Puma (after the Puma logo... I’m a Wildlife Biologist’s wife. I DO know there is no such thing as a black mountain lion 😳) and I settled into the gazebo, where they’d be housed until they got big enough to live in the barn, so they could acquaint themselves with me, and I could get to know them. They forgave me, quickly enough, for the indignity of a Vet visit where they got the first of their kitten shots, some wormer and flea meds to the tune of $170! The vet was impressed with them, though. They had a clean bill of health, other than the fleas, and exhibited a sweetness of personality. She explained the difference between feral cats, and strays- It takes 7 generations to be truly feral, and once feral, the cat will not completely trust a human. But these kittens sought out human touch, and though a bit skittish, they allowed themselves to be held, and enjoyed petting. They were strays.



And they were particularly bonded. After they’d gotten comfortable, they started 'talking’ to each other. They ate together, drank together and even used the litter box together! They slept on top of each other, and if one, somehow, was out of sight of the other, they would call desperately until they found each other. I was so glad I’d made the decision to take them both.








As the days went by, they trusted me more and more, coming to me when I entered the gazebo, and purring when I held them. They were, also, becoming more active, playing, jumping, and climbing on the gazebo screens- NOT GOOD!
On Monday, I trusted them enough to take them down to the barn while I fed the horses. They played on the woodpile but came to me when I called them, which got me to thinking. We had an old enclosure, complete with cat perches that I’d bought for Itty, so we could keep him safely outside during the day, but he’d be unable to terrorize Salem, the barn cat, or kill our songbirds. My thought was to get the kittens used to the enclosure, which I eventually intended to put in the barn, and save the screens in the gazebo! Win/win!




That afternoon, I put them in the cage- then hunkered down to watch them, to make sure they couldn’t escape. They tried everything... nosing all along the metal fence, climbing the cat tower to sit on the perches, standing on their hind legs looking for a way out. After a good half hour, where I snapped photos, and explained my long-term vision, they settled down, and I decided to run inside and change into some cooler clothes. The temperature was rising, and I was getting HOT.  Inside, I checked on them through the bathroom window. They were both inside, batting at some tall grass. I slipped into a sun dress, grabbed a cup of coffee, and went back outside. I think I was gone less than ten minutes, and I remember thinking, ‘Wow! The kittens sure are quiet!’ When I got to the cage, they were gone.

I couldn’t make sense of it at first. I was so sure they HAD to be in that cage, and it is a rather large cage, and I knew they couldn’t get out.... I called, and looked around, and couldn’t see them anywhere, inside or out. I shook the cage... looked for holes, couldn’t find a place that would allow two kittens to escape. I started walking all around, searching, scanning, listening. I ran back in the house, and grabbed one of the Shelties, and some cat food, and Piper and I went in ever widening circles- his nose to the ground, me shaking the kibble, and calling, ‘Kittens? Hungry?” But nothing. Silence. No movement. It was like they’d been abducted by aliens- vacuumed up into the sky. I couldn’t believe it. I called Bruce, and went to check under the garden shed, in the woodpile, and up in trees. My darlings were gone, and I was afraid.


I put on a lot of miles that day- searching and calling. I walked our entire 40 acres, several times. When Bruce took Skye out, he took a flashlight to look up into the trees. Everyone assured me they’d be back that night, so I put food and water out, and propped the gazebo door open. I slept in the living room with the outdoor lights on, so I’d see them scurry across the patio on their way home. But the next morning, they were still nowhere to be found, and the food hadn’t been touched.

I cried and cried and cried. I felt responsible. I felt like I’d let my kittens down- didn't keep them safe from predators, and that I didn’t deserve to have any animals at all. I knew I had been careful- I had taken precautions, and that I couldn't have foreseen what happened. I knew that it didn't make any sense that the kittens hadn't stuck around, to play, or investigate their surroundings once they got out. I knew that they SHOULD have been easy to find, as they weren't left alone for any length of time- but I felt awful, regardless, and I couldn't keep the questions from tormenting me... HOW did they get out? WHY couldn't I see or hear them? WHERE were they?

The next morning, I started walking early. I walked to the neighbors, and I went deep into the woods into the farthest part of our property where I stumbled onto a VERY fresh, mountain lion kill- fresh like the cat HAD to still be there, watching me. My hair stood on end, and I left quickly, looking behind me often, and wondered, could the kittens have gotten this far on their little baby legs? Could the lion have eaten them as an appetizer? I walked all along Deep Creek and the reservoir (by this time, I had Skye with me to scare off any predators) because the kittens drank a lot of water, and I thought they’d be thirsty by now. All the while, I kept going over and over the event in my head. NONE of it made sense. HOW did two little kittens get out of that enclosure, and be so completely GONE within a 10 min. time period? Did a predator scare them off? Did a predator catch them? BOTH of them? Why weren’t they meowing? Why weren’t they coming to me? If I lived in town, I’d swear someone came by and took them, but I live way out in the boonies, and there wasn’t anyone there but me.

That night, I made sure their food and water was filled, and I fell asleep, exhausted. Weds. morning, I checked the gazebo, and SOMETHING had eaten SOME of the food! Could it possibly be the kittens? Hope surged through me. A raccoon, or a skunk wouldn’t have been so polite as to only eat about half the food, but I decided there was one sure way to find out. I gathered our trail cams and rigged them up inside the gazebo. I was sure whatever had snacked on the kitten chow the night before would come back, now that they knew food was there. I just had to wait until night and just in case... I kept walking, calling and searching all day Weds.

Weds. night, I was terrified to hope. I’d sat outside, hoping to see kittens gamboling about as they played, but finally, I had to go in to bed. Just before getting into my nightgown, I shone a flashlight into the gazebo, and turned to Bruce, stunned. “Oh my GOD! Oh MY GOD!” Bruce said, ‘What? What? Kittens????’ And I said, ‘Panda! Is on the table eating!’ Bruce said... 'ok... ok. How are you going to catch him?’ I sneaked around to a back door, and tiptoed silently to the gazebo. I tried to slam the door, forgetting that I’d propped it open with a big rock. Bruce came out behind me with a flashlight, and got the door closed. We switched on the light, to see if we’d caught one cat, two cats or no cats. I saw Panda immediately. His little white face was illuminated brightly- and then, Bruce said- ‘there’s the other one!’ And sure enough.... little Puma was in the corner- darker than the night.

Yep! I cried. I picked them up, and I held them and sobbed. I ran inside to tell our kids, who’d been suffering with me for 2 1/2 days. Then, I went back outside, and held them some more. I didn’t want to leave them... for a brief period, I considered sleeping in the gazebo that night. I settled on getting up early, and spending the day with them. They can’t get enough cuddles, and pets and neither can I. When I hold one of them, the other jumps in my lap. And they purr and purr.

The kittens are HOME! and they seem grateful and happy to be safe. I love that they stayed together throughout their ordeal. I'll never know where they were, what they went through, why they didn't come when I called but I do know that they had each other, and somehow that was enough to make it back.

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

August

Have you ever noticed that August has it's own sound? or maybe more accurately, it's own LACK of sound? August in NorthWest Montana is so.... muted ... and heavy. Oh, no doubt, the crickets are droning- and they are LOUD, but they are a background noise that adds to the quiet. And occasionally, you'll hear a bird- but for the most part, August is subdued.

And August, also, has a weight to it. Its usually very hot- very still- and it seems like the silence presses down.  I'm having a difficult time describing it- but if you've ever been here in August, you'll know what I mean. Even the animals move stealthily, appearing and disappearing without making a noise. I, often, find myself holding my breath, and moving as soundlessly as possible down the path. I tend to tiptoe through August.

August, also, carries a message. Very quietly, but somberly, August exudes the message of: Time is running out! Whether that means Summer is almost over, or your days are numbered, depends on where your life is at the moment... But the message is there, loud and strong. Quiet and heavy. Hot and still.

I hold my breath in August. I stand quietly and listen. I hear and consider what August has to tell me.
 I prepare.