Fireside Trails: A Pink Event

Pink is not necessarily prevelent in Oris George's life, since he does not like the color! But today, Mr. George inadvertently created a 'pink event' in his life.

Sometimes, Mr. and Mrs. Oris enjoy an evening near their wood stove, reminiscing by the fire, sharing donkey memories and re-reading one of Oris' special stories, A Man by the Side of the Road (one of my favorites). And sometimes, Oris' camera gives him even more memories...

It was on one of these chilly evenings that Oris took these photos.  His talent is awesome, and helps us prepare for the cold, winter months ahead.

                                      Photo by Oris George

Mr. George tells me these shots were taken with the glass front of the stove - closed!  I am continually stunned and in admiration of this writer and his photography talents.

"Stove is a Hearth Stone Heritage model Non-Catalytic Wood Stove with glass door.The camera is a Nikon coolpix p100 nikor 26x wide optical zoom ed vr , 4.6 120mm 1:2,8-5.0."

"I was sitting looking at the stove from an angle. I watched the blue flame dancing across the top of the logs as the gas from the logs was burning. I noticed when the flame flared...As I looked at it from the angle, it flashed a column of light that seemed to come out from the stove."

                                      Photo by Oris George



As always...Nature prevails, even in the flames of life.

Tiger Trails: The Tiger Book

Pictures of the two versions of John Vaillant's book, The Tiger, from Amazon.com

 

 The Siberian Tiger. Fast facts from National Geographic: 

• Mammal, Carnivore
• Size = 10.75 feet
• Weight = 660 pounds
• Protection status = endangered.

A new book by John Vaillant, The Tiger, gives deep insight into the mind and soul of a Siberian Tiger in Russia. A true story that will shock and sadden you and change the way you think about tigers.

This video by Vaillant explains this true thriller.

As always, Nature prevails.

The Last Hurrah: Trails of the Little Red Boat

Once upon a time, in a little town on the prairie, two young-hearted oldsters took their little red boat out on the reservoir for a last hurrah.  After all, 80 plus degrees can't last too much longer; it's October 15th!

Life is good.

The husband of this young couple, whom hereinafter shall be referred to as DH, is always so particular about packing life jackets, oars, etc., for a boat trip; he's quite the responsible knight-in-boating armor.

The doting wife of this couple, whom hereinafter shall be referred to as DW, also embraces a responsible approach to life; she's been spotted wearing her life vest while cleaning the boat in the driveway.

But, I digress. Back to the big pond.

DW gets into the little red ship.  As they happily begin their putt-putting away from the dock, DH mentions...’Aahhhh, DW, 'I think the oars...are missing.' 

Hmmm, said DW, we do live so close, only two miles to the garage...as she basked in the warm glow of the fall afternoon sun from a puff-filled sky.  Her cheeks were dusted by an ever-so-soft breeze off the surrounding, calm, cool water.  She glanced over at DH, his glazed-over eyes resembling those of a hunter lost in the bowels of a Bass-Pro Shop...the week before antelope season.

Life is good.

They shared deep, abiding thoughts...

'The motor always purrs like a kitten, why would today be any different, right?'

"RIGHT!"

'We only have about an hour before sunset, right?' 

"RIGHT!" 

'We checked Weather Bug so we're assured there will be no wind or storms for the rest of the day, right?'

"RIGHT!"

By now, the responsible oldsters had putt-putted to the middle of the big pond on the prairie and DW was deep into a photo shoot, logging picture after picture as she daydreamed of National Geographic awards for her surely priceless, back side shots of the one-and-only John Martin Dam.

Life is very good.

Grebes were popping in and out of the pond, Pelicans scattered here, there and yon; the paradise effect of the last hurrah was reaching toxic proportions. So DH headed the putt-putt west, leaned heavily on the throttle and the oldsters were off, flying down the full length of the pond...

Life was more gooder!

DW has a lovely friend from up north whose psychic abilities are renowned state-wide.  She had sent DW a touching message earlier in the day, but DW...had forgotten; it was the farthest thought from her mind:

"Sometimes we have to live through the valleys and experience the mist beneath the falls, to remember the magnificent views from the top."

Just in case your story-reading skills are a tad rusty, try to keep in mind that this quote is the pivotal point of this little tale of the oldster's last hurrah...

Back to the pond.

DW says to DH; "Oh Love of my long life, could we pretty please stop in front of the Point Campground so I can have one more stunning shot of the gorgeous cliffs below for my upcoming sale to National Geographic?"

DH - deep in his boater-in-shining-armor mode, quickly obliged and the putt-putt stopped.   

Silence grew gentle and warm around the oldsters.  A moment of all moments. In the distance, flowing across the water…bird sounds reverberated from the cliffs, ducks flew gracefully about overhead, and the sun rays hugged and warmed their firm, shiny skin.  The water was still, the camera worked. 

DW finished, looked at DH; there was no word to describe the magic between them.

Life is great!

After a few moments of heavenly bliss, seared into their psyches forever, DH starts the putt-putt.  Putt…nothing.  Putt...nothing, again and again and again.  Putt-putt is tired.  Putt-putt is stubborn.  Putt-putt is dead!

Life is no longer good.  In fact, life sucks!

DW looks over at DH.  No glazed-over eyes there! There was no word to describe this look.  DH looks back at DW who quickly looks back at the cliffs, and obsessively takes 97 thousand more shots! Blood pressure pills...are good...

Moments...or maybe hours pass.

"Are you sure about the oars?"

"Yes, dear Love of my life, this little ship is pretty small, I doubt they are hiding…"

"Shut up!"

DW - who is famous for tons of big ideas and no follow-through, gets the bright idea of wrapping her hand through straps of the firm, spare seat flotation device to fashion an oar, and begins to paddle. 

"Faster, faster," goads DH, "the sun is almost down and it'll be dark soon!"

"Shut up!"

Before long, magic being magic, things began to change.

"It is so quiet and gorgeous right here, right now," whispers DW.

"Indeed it is," agrees DH.  The oldsters relaxed and Nature surrounded them.  Their hearts and souls soaked up the beauty of the big pond, on a luscious fall day, in southeast Colorado.

After some time had passed, DH began to murmur sweet nothings to his little buddy putt-putt and before long, putt-putt came alive again! The oldsters hugged and all was lovely, as they quickly putt-putted absolutely-straight-back to the dock.

Life is always more gooder...living near the big pond on the prairie. It’s the occasional valleys and mists… that can be a bit bothersome.

Nature prevails.

Egg Trails: A Baker’s Dozen

By George, they almost did it! We collected a baker's dozen of eggs today, leaving only two pretties not producing as yet. We're singing egg-praises to our productive flock today at Hasty Acres.

The usual egg singing that goes on most of the morning was a bit louder today; now the cause is clear. At one point in this morning’s loud rock concert (a bit off key), we peeked into the coop and chuckled at the line of singing hens that ran from the chicken door to the ladder below the nest boxes. We need more nests...was the general consensus. So we added 3 extra milk crates to the nest area to hopefully assist them in expediting their morning chores.

We sat watching our flock through several cups of coffee today. We couldn’t be more pleased with the final flock members, following our final culling last month. We had a couple of White Rock roosters who thought they owned the place! They made the girls scream and kept the flock in an uproar for hours. They brought $3.25 a piece at the monthly auction!

3 roosters remain, an Americauna and 2 Cornish. You’d never know they were on the job if you weren’t watching closely. The girls cooperate quietly for the most part due to the gentle care they get from their mates. The dominant guy is a gorgeous Americauna whom we have dubbed Mr. B.D. (big daddy!). He’s mostly wheaten-colored with a stunning rust saddle across his upper back. His prominent tail sports lovely, rust-laced wide feathers with a nice complement of saddle feathers laying down both sides of his lower back. There will be a photo shoot soon; he just needs to get a little more camera-ready.

The remaining flock consists of 2 Light Brahmas, 2 White Leghorns, 4 Americauna pretties, 1 darker reddish hen that may be a Rhode Island Red cross, 1 reddish and white hen who resembles a Golden Comet, 2 Shiny black hens with some reddish lacing on their chests – possibly Black Star crosses, 2 Black hens with slight Columbian-type white collars resembling a Birchen Maran and of course - our new Buff Orpinton.

Our flock is growing strong and productive and we are enjoying the 6 to 13 eggs a day.

As always – particularly in our backyard chicken flock these days…Nature prevails.

Tasty Hasty Eggs: Breakfast Trails

Hasty Acres presents our first home-grown egg-fry. When our hens started laying their first eggs 4 days ago, we were excited. Today, after enjoying this tasty egg-fry made with our home-grown onions, some pre-baked yellow potatoes, red pepper dices, a few mandarin orange decorations - and - of course, the main attraction, a combo of white and brown eggs from our pretties, well...yummbly fits!

Though a lot of the hens are singing their gotta find a nook to lay this egg song, most have yet to discover the stylish nests waiting for them on their wall. Grass hay lines their nests made from matching milk crates; all 5 of the cubbies have a white golf ball in the middle...hints are good...

We traded a rowdy Rock rooster for an overly broody Buff Orpington from my dear friend who knows more about chickens, farming and everything else in life - than I will in a hundred years!

Buffy thinks she is setting on a nest full of eggs...all the time! When approached - by human or peer, she puffs up, sticks out her wings and clucks up a storm. She really looks BIG and BAD. I have no problem understanding her..."come near my babies and I'll pluck every one of your feathers - or eyes - take your choice"! Even the Rock roosters take heed. This chicken is a trip! I hope she will be one of our main setters next spring.

"The incredible, edible egg" is a phrase to ponder when trying to regulate your diet while ingesting healthy, nutrition-packed food.

For anyone hesitating to eat eggs, here are some links to browse for healthy information about eggs. http://www.eggnutritioncenter.org/content/nutrition-facts-panel

As always, Nature prevails.

Egg Trails: The First Egg of the Flock

Ladies and gentlemen, a moment of due silence, please, as the drum rolls.... The girls are listening.

The first egg of the flock arrived this AM; it's real; it's at Hasty Acres; it was in the nest; it is perfect! And almost full size.

Interestingly enough, it is brown. We expected a white one from one of the leghorns since the literature suggests they are the earliest layers in our flock.

When we arranged this idea (as I mentioned in an earlier post), we chose breeds that would round out a natural flock with tendencies for:

-meat
-eggs - including production and colors
-small combs - to better handle winter temps
-setting tendencies - for natural flock reproduction
-and of course - prettiness (is that even a word!) for enjoyment.


Our pretties arrived at the post office from Cackle Hatchery, March 23rd, 2011. Leghorn, Americauna, Cornish, Rock and Brahma pullets filled the welcomed, long-awaited box of teeny-tiny, chirping pretties of various shades of chicky colors; we were ecstatic!

Their palace awaited their arrival. A brand new sheep tank in our chicken house feed room sat chicky-ready complete with heat lamps snapped to both sides, newspaper-lined bottom with paper towels on top to keep their legs from splaying. 2 brand new red, long chicky feeders filled with Chick Starter and 2 chicky waterers filled to the brim with fresh water laced with some sugar to ensure they perked up – from a long, scary chicky trip from Missouri.

Extraneous chickys entered our flock during the week or two following the March date above, as Big R feed stores had the gall to have rows of tanks full of chicky-pretties to tempt us! More on that later.

August 20th, 2011. 5 months...shy 2 days!

Which ever pretty you are, congratulations! You are the leader of the eggs,the queen for a day; you rock, egg-layer-leader of the Hasty Acres chicken flock.

Even in chicky world, Nature prevails.

Space Shuttle Trails: The Changing of the Space Guard

The article linked below succinctly sums up the era of the space shuttle. Richard Velotta intertwines a little family humor with some sad facts about the last flight of Atlantis.

At 64, I hesitate to imagine that an era of 30 years has passed. I vividly recall - even the moon walk, the rockets, the ocean landings with the astronauts bobbing around in the bumpy seas. Where has all this time gone...

But, as Mr. Velotta suggests, sometimes a closed door opens another - maybe different, but usually better. Better...may entail asteroids, other planets...and maybe in another lifetime, another universe.

http://www.vegasinc.com/news/2011/aug/01/space/

As always, Nature prevails - even in Space!