Here a Chick, There a Chick…

Kestrel has sent us an extra-special bit of adorableness.

I raise quail – these are Japanese Coturnix quail. On Easter morning I woke up to this sight in my incubator: 

©kestrel, all rights reserved

After the main crush was out of the incubator, one little late-comer to the party hatched out right into my hand. 

©kestrel, all rights reserved

This was my Easter basket, but none of them ever turned into chocolate, or marshmallow.

©kestrel, all rights reserved

Hanging out at the water cooler in their new digs. The marbles are to stop the tiny little things from drowning themselves. Like all little babies they can get themselves into all sorts of trouble. Most of them are underneath the brooder plate, that black and yellow thing to the right. The underside of it stays warm, about 100F, but that is just not hot enough to start a fire, so these are much safer than heat lamps. The other benefit of the brooder plate, besides safety, is that since it does not work by a light, it gets dark at night, allowing the chicks to sleep like they naturally would. With a heat lamp you have to keep that light on all the time.

©kestrel, all rights reserved

Now they are one week old, and much bigger. They are even starting to get feathers, just like real grown-ups! The feeding frenzy is over very finely diced hard-boiled quail eggs, full of important nutrition

©kestrel, all rights reserved

This is the one that hatched into my hand on that first day a week ago. (I can tell, because this one has two white toes.) They grow very fast! By the time they are 3 weeks old they will be ready to leave the brooder and won’t need any heat to survive. These quail will be fully mature by the time they are 6 to 8 weeks old, at which time they will start laying eggs of their own and the whole thing will start all over again.

©kestrel, all rights reserved

Jack’s Walk

Jack watches Freddy leave. ©voyager, all rights reserved

While Jack and I were waiting for Freddy Fox to make an appearance, Gnorman and I chatted amiably. I asked about his family, and he told me about his wife, Gmary and their children Gnancy and Gmatilda. They have a small farm in the eastern part of the forest, which is apparently where most of the Gnomes live.
“So are all the Gnomes farmers,” I asked.
“Nay,” said Gnorman. “Mostly, we be craftsmen. Cobblers. Tailors. Makers of fine furniture and the like. We Gnomes are good with our hands.”
“Say,” said Gnorman, looking at me pointedly, “would you by any chance be part elf?”
“I don’t think so.” I replied,  “My dad used to tell me we were descended from Vikings, but he never mentioned elves. I’m pretty sure I’m 100% human.”
“I’m sorry for ya, Lass,” Gnorman chuckled, “but you do look Elvish, you know. You’re small for a human, and more than a bit crooked, and you’ve got them big ears.” Gnorman reached out and stroked the top of my left ear.
I hunched my shoulders at his touch and shook my head. Crooked! Big Ears! I harrumphed and was about to say something when Jack raised his head sleepily and said to me,
“Mummy, you’re beautiful. I like your crooked back. It curves just the right way to curl up in. And your ears are only a little bit big. They’re not nearly as big as mine.”
“Thanks, Bubba.”
“Hey, I smell fox,” Jack said quickly, turning his head to the left, “coming from that way.”
“Show yerself, Freddy,” Gnorman called out.
A thin, reedy voice called out from behind a fallen tree, “Heh, heh. Snort. In time, Gnome. Can these two be trusted?”
” More trustworthy than you, Freddy. Now, show yer face.”

Slowly a young, lean-faced red fox with piercing amber eyes rose out of the leaf litter and stood before Jack and me. His ears were tipped with black, and he was quite handsome.
“Hello, I’m voyager, and this is my dog, Jack,” I said pleasantly. Jack smiled at the fox, but his eyes were serious and full of caution.
“Fredlich Fleetfoot Fox. I don’t like dogs, so let’s get this over with quickly,” he snorted.
“Be nice, Freddy,” Gnorman growled. “Oma is still missing, and this whole situation is your fault. Jack is a good dog, and his human seems pleasant enough, and they’re going to help us find Oma.”
“Heh, heh. I din’t mean to lose her,” Freddy said defensively. “I knew she was tangled up in my tail, and I tried to flick her off a few times, but she wouldn’t let go.”
“She was likely too scared,” said Jack glowering at Freddy.
“No, that wasn’t it at all, you dumb dog. Oma said she wanted to go for a ride, and since it was a nice day, I thought I’d give her a bit of a treat. I was plannin’ on bringing her back,” he rasped.
“So why didn’t you,” Jack grumbled.

“Well,” he said, “once we hit the open field, Oma started whoopin’ and hollerin’ for me to get goin.” Freddy was getting animated. His long, full tail was waving quickly, and he started to bounce on his knees while he spoke.
”’Faster, Freddy,’ she kept sayin,’ and the sun was shining, and I was full of spring energy, so I started to run. Oma was hangin’ on tight, and called out ‘Wheee! Oh, this is sooo much fun.’ Then she said something about it being like ‘snurfing with sneals,’ and I din’t know what she was talking about, but she was laughing and giggling like a drunken imp, and kept calling out to me, ‘Yippee. Yahoo. Faster, faster, go like the wind, fox!’ and she was swinging off my tail, holding on tight with one hand while she held the other arm out tryin’ to catch the breeze. When we crested the hill, I felt her let go, but I’d slowed down enough to do a quick turn, and I caught her between my ears. She sat up there for a minute while I caught my breath and then I headed down toward home. That’s when Oma started to cry,” Freddy snorfled dejectedly and sat down.
“She was probably crying because she was scared,” Jack said.
“Snort! No, you dumb dog. That wasn’t it at all.” Freddy shouted.
Jack issued a low grumble and stared at Freddy, who suddenly stood up and took a few quick steps backward.
Looking down, Freddy continued, “Simmer down, dog and listen, will ya. Oma told me that she never had fun anymore. That since she got old, people treated her like glass and that she just wanted to do something exciting for a change. She asked if we could go a bit farther, and since it was a nice day and I din’t have anything pressing to do, I said yes.” Freddy said, looking up. His eyes were moist, and he seemed about to cry.

I softly asked him where they went, and Freddy perked up again.
“We went down the hill to the east and headed toward Drumbo. Oma had slid down my neck and was sitting on my back, so I told her she had to hang on with both hands, and she did, but then she wanted to go fast again, so I started to run. The wind was at my back, so I got up a good speed, and Oma was trying to sing a song about flying, but she kept laughing and getting the words wrong, and we was both having a good time. I don’t know when Oma let go, but when I stopped at the ditch for a drink, she was gone,” he paused, then sniffled, “I never meant for it to go wrong.” Freddy then stood up and turned around slowly, almost as if looking for something or someone.

Jack said kindly, “Things go wrong all the time, Freddy. It sounds like you were trying to be helpful, even if it was reckless. Can you tell me where you were when you noticed Oma was gone.”
“Well, it was near Punkydoodles Corners. I could see the sign from the ditch near the highway to the west. About a 10 minute walk. I called for Oma, but she didn’t answer. I looked everywhere – in all directions, but I couldn’t find her. I looked for a long time, too, and I asked around. I talked to a few other foxes and a stinky skunk and even a rather surly badger, but no one had seen her. That’s when I turned around and started back here to tell all of you. I looked all along the way, but I din’t find her. I was hoping there was some fairy magic that could bring her home,” Freddy said, hopefully.
“Fairy magic doesn’t work that far, you ninny,” spat Gnorman.
“That is a long way from here,” said Jack. “We’ll need to drive, Mummy.”
“That’s why we asked for your human to help, Jack,” said Gnorman. “you’s can get there quickly. It’d take us days to get that far.”

“Of course,” I said. “We can get there in about half an hour. Jack, is there anything else you need?”
“I need to smell your feet, Freddy,” Jack said, and he took a step toward the fox.
“No, no, no. Not my feet,” said Freddy. “I’m ticklish.”
“And your bum,” said Jack.
Freddy’s eyes got big. “Ah…no to that, too,” he snorted, stepping backwards again.
“Stay right there, Freddy,” Gnorman yelled, and suddenly he was no longer beside me, but behind the fox.
“Wow, Gnorman,” I said. “How’d you do that.”
“Fairies ain’t the only ones with a bit ‘o magic,” he smiled at me. “Now fox, sit still while Jack sniffs out what he needs.”

“How do I know I can trust him,” Freddy snorted, almost blubbering.”Because I’m a Labrador Retriever,” said Jack with a touch of exasperation, “everyone knows we’re the most trustworthy dogs. We’re also good at finding stuff. I have an excellent nose.”

“Well, if your nose is so great, why can’t you smell me from over there,” Freddy blurted out.
“I can smell you from here, but I have a better chance of finding Oma if I can get a more detailed idea of the trail you leave behind, and I need to smell you up close for that,” Jack said, adding, “Why is it such a big deal?”
Freddy snorted a raspy sort of growl, and Jack responded with a low, husky noise that made Freddy sit down quickly and hold up a paw.
“Thanks,” said Jack. “Now the other one.”
Freddy giggled as Jack sniffed his other front paw. “Good,” Jack said, “now the back ones.”
“You don’t need to smell those, too, do you?” Freddy cried.
Jack coughed gently and said, “back feet smell different from front feet. Of course, I need to sniff them too.”
Jack moved around behind Freddy and asked him to lift his back feet one at a time, sniffing while Freddy giggled.
“OK, now I’m going to smell your bottom bits,” Jack finally announced, “please lift your tail.”
Freddy started making little nyuck, nyuck noises, but a grunt from Gnorman silenced him, and he slowly lifted his beautiful, long, bushy tail.
“Honestly,” said Jack, “I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. It’s normal to smell each other,” Jack brought his nose up and took a deep sniff. Then he reached his nose farther in to smell between Freddy’s legs.
“Hey, I didn’t say you could sniff me there,” Freddy jumped ahead a few feet.
“I need to get as much information as possible. Anyway, I’m all finished now,” Jack stood back.

“Alright, Jack. Are you ready to go,” I asked?
“Yes, Mummy. I know what Oma smells like. She smells like acorn caps, trout lilies and trillium roots with a faint whiff of the ocean. I’m pretty sure I can pick up the trail from where Freddy stopped for a drink,” Jack said, looking up at me. “Do you know how to get to that ditch?”
“You, bet, Bubba. I know that road pretty well. We’ll stop when I see the sign, and since I’m taller than Freddy, that should be before where he stopped. We’ll pull over and start from there,” I said, mentally planning our route.

“That sounds like the place to start,” said Jack. “Thanks for your help, Freddy.”
“Can I go now,” snorted Freddy, who had started to bounce on his toes.
“Off with you then, fox,” Gnorman grunted, and in a flash, Freddy disappeared back into the leaf litter and was gone.
“Off with the two of you, now, too,” Gnorman waved his arms at us. “Oma must be frightened and scared. And it’s gonna be cold tonight. We wants her home safe before then.”
“Don’t worry,'” said Jack. “We’ll find her, won’t we, Mummy.”
“You bet, Bubba,” I said, not really sharing his confidence. “Let’s go find Oma Troutchen.”

The Results are in….

©kestrel, all rights reserved

The tiny horse painting competition has been judged and Kestrel tells us,

I did not win anything but I got an honorable mention in the Gallery division, and the judge – a very well respected top level artist in the hobby – made nice comments about my entry. So that was nice, I appreciated that she made comments. Thought you’d like to know! 

Thanks for the update, kestrel. It’s too bad my vote doesn’t count because I think you should have won first place.

Jack’s Walk

First trilliums of the year, ©voyager, all rights reserved

It’s been a beautiful, sunny day and spring has decided to kick into high gear. Today we found may-apple, trout lilies and a small grouping of trilliums that are probably red because the red ones always come up first.  I carefully noted the spot and will try to get photos of them in bloom. I say ‘try’ because red trilliums are quite short-lived, often lasting only a day or two after they bloom. They’re also more fragile than the white ones. They’re thinner and more transparent, and their stems droop, so you need to photograph them from underneath. As you might imagine, at my age, getting underneath a short flower isn’t something you attempt willy-nilly. You need to make sure that a) you have room to maneuver, b) there is something to hold on to (sturdy saplings are preferred), and c) you have someone with you in case of emergency. The expression “Help. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” isn’t as funny as it used to be.

Stay sane out there.

Tree Tuesday

Gnomish Runes, ©voyager, all rights reserved

Recently, while talking with a couple of gnomes, I discovered that many of the markings we see on fallen trees and branches are actually a form of map-making done by the little people of the woods. I was told that they are mostly made by Gnomes and Elves, who are terribly forgetful, as a way of remembering where their caches of food are stored. I commented that they look convoluted and, after having a good laugh, I was told that they are convoluted for humans, but the little folk travel in circuitous routes because they like to see the sights and visit other little folks along the way. Well, then, I guess that explains it.

Vetch

Our Monday flowers from Nightjar are  here,

I think this vetch is Vicia angustifolia, a wild relative of fava bean and pea plants. Even though I can only do short walks near my house now, I don’t think I will run out of wildflowers any time soon. There’s a lot of diversity around here right now. I hope you are all well, stay safe!

©Nightjar, all rights reserved

©Nightjar, all rights reserved

What Remains After

Because I have so many links about art saved (>200), I’m trying to group them by themes. Today’s theme is abandoned spaces, and although the title seems a bit dark, it’s not a commentary on current events in the world. 

What remains after we are gone? After the life industrial has faded and transformed into its modern, shiny, robotic cousin? (Well, that’s how the moving pictures show it…)

The end of everything? The slow decay of silent things, with no one to witness their passing? The carcasses of once-great buildings, now uncertain in their unstable uselessness and sharp aura of danger? There is potential in these abandoned and lost spaces – but a melancholy potential, the complete opposite of new beginnings, a potential that is meaningless and only full of the possibilities of what could have been, what never was, what never will be. A lot of never will be.

From THE END OF EVERYTHING, by Jan Erik Waider.

Still, what it can be is a whole lot of art.

[Read more…]

Jack’s Walk

The Hollow, Twisted Tree ©voyager, all rights reserved

“Mommy… Mommy,” I heard Jack call out excitedly from somewhere up ahead. Soon I saw him exit the forest and do a quick trot toward me on the trail. All of this was quite surprising because Jack seldom gets excited, and he doesn’t do the quick trot anymore, so something was up.
“What is it, Bubba?” I asked as he got nearer.
“Oma Troutchen is missing, and the fairies need our help.”
“Why do the fairies need our help?”
“They need my nose, and you have to drive,” Jack said, “Gnorman will explain it. He wants to talk to you.”
“Is Gnorman a fairy?” I asked, getting excited at the thought of finally meeting one of Jack’s fairy friends.
“Silly Mummy. Gnorman isn’t a fairy. Gnorman is a Gnome. Over here,” Jack said, walking back into the woods and stopping beside a tall, twisted tree stump.
I approached carefully and looked around, but I didn’t see anyone except for Jack.
“Where is he, Jack?”
“Up here, you Ninny, and put that camera away,” I heard a gruff voice say, but I still didn’t see anyone.
“Here, in the tree,” and sure enough there he was, a small wizened creature with a bushy white beard wearing a pointed red cap, standing inside the hollowed-out tree.
“Why must I put the camera away,” I asked.
“Because I told you to. Now, are you going to keep asking silly questions, or are you going to listen?” Gnorman said.
“I’m listening, but I’d like to take your photo, please,” I said as politely as I could.
“Maybe later. Right now, we’s got a lost fairy, and we needs Jack to help us find her. And Jack says he needs you to help him, so we’s decided to take a chance and asks you’s fur a bit of human help.”
“I’ll help however I can,” I said, wondering what on earth I could do to help find a fairy.
“It’s Oma Troutchen we’s lost. She was out collecting acorn caps with the school kids yesterday when young Freddy Fox wandered in and started sniffing around, and somehow Oma got caught up in his tail, and the silly fool ran off with her hanging there, and he’s done went and lost her.”
“That’s terrible.” I said, “Do you have any idea where she might be?”
“That’s the trouble. Freddy says that he thinks he lost her around Punkydoodles corner, but that’s a long way from here, and the fairies don’t have their wings yet to go looking for her. The birds is out looking for her, but they haven’t found her yet, and Oma ain’t gonna do well on her own for long.”
“Why won’t Oma do well? And why don’t the fairies have their wings?”
“Great grasshoppers! You sure do ask a lot of questions.” Gnorman said.
“Everyone knows that Fairies shed their wings in the fall and grow them back in the spring, so’s it’s easier for them to live underground in the winter. As for Oma, she’s very old and has the forgetting disease. Everyone in the forest is out looking for her. Even them drunken Imps are helping, but Freddy took her too far, and it’s hard to find a fairy who ain’t got her wings.” Gnorman was getting upset. “, where’s that stupid fox. He was supposed to meet us here to give Jack a bit more knowing about where they went. Hrmph! You just can’t trust a fox.”
“if you can’t trust a fox, how do we know he’ll tell us the truth?” I asked.
“‘Cause he’s got the whole durn forest mad at him and even a fox is smart enough to know you don’t mess with the fairies.”
“Everyone loves Oma Troutchen, Mummy,” Jack spoke up. “She’s been living in this forest for a long, long time and she’s friends with everyone. She was the first fairy I met, and she tells the best stories. I love her, too.” Jack sighed heavily, and I could see his eyes misting over.
“Alright, Gnorman. Jack, can you find the trail without waiting for this fox to turn up?”
“I can find fox trails, but I can’t be sure which one belongs to Freddy,” Jack said sadly.
“Well, then, I guess we’d better wait to see if Freddy turns up,” I said, sitting down on a log to wait.
“Thar’s a good girl,” Gnorman growled. “Now, I’ll let ya take one photo, but not too close. You humans always seems to make us Gnomes look silly.”
“Well, you do look a bit silly up in that tree,” I said.
“I climbed up here to make it easier for you, young lady, there’s nothing silly about that.” Gnorman smiled for the first time.
“Thanks,” I said, smiling back at him. “I appreciate your effort. And it’s nice to be called ‘young lady,’ no one calls me that anymore.”
“Well, you don’t look a day over a hundred to me,” Gnorman said merrily, and while I was letting that remark sink in, he quietly said, “Thanks to ya, fur helping us,” and then he blew me a kiss.
I reached for my camera and snapped a quick photo before Gnorman changed his mind.

Jack lay down beside me and placed his head heavily on my foot. I could see he was tired, and I stroked his back, hoping he would take a power nap.
And so we waited, hoping Freddy Fox would turn up soon.

Gnorman, ©voyager, all rights reserved

The Finished Little Horse(s)

Kestrel has finished her little horse(s) and I think they’re all fabulous!

I finished my last horse, and in time for the deadline. I’ve already sent in my entries; it’s all over but the crying, as they say.

The final work is pretty subtle; the whites have been altered so they are not so stark, there is slight pinking in the area by the elbow where the hair is thinner, and in that second photo, finally, we have eyes!

©kestrel, all rights reserved

©kestrel, all rights reserved

He looks like he’s saying, “Are you lookin’ at me?” In case anyone wonders: those dark dots on the legs are to represent the chestnuts (as they are called) on a living horse. These are the remnants of a toe, because equids were originally 5-toed.

I’m including the photos I sent in for the contest, posted here in order of my painting them – so this sorrel horse is the first one I painted, and the bay pinto I’ve been working on is the last. Taking clear, focused pictures of something this small is pretty difficult, at least for me. When you get it focused right, the photos are brutally honest, and the artist can see every last tiny flaw and mistake. Well, this is to be expected for a novice like myself – I will hopefully learn a lot here and do better in the future. The dapple grey (third photo down) was particularly difficult for me. That color terrified me because I’ve seen so many people get it wrong; but I like a challenge so I tried it. It was, as I thought it would be, really tricky, particularly at this scale.

I’m not sure when the judging will take place but I will try and keep Voyager informed as to the outcome. I hope you’ve enjoyed getting a glimpse into an admittedly very weird hobby!

©kestrel, all rights reserved

©kestrel, all rights reserved

©kestrel, all rights reserved

©kestrel, all rights reserved