Spring stuff.

We think Spring has finally sprung, even though this past weekend brought a winter-y blast of wind with temperatures fifteen degrees below normal for this time of the year. The winds were so strong that we heard them howling in every direction outside, and heard them from every room in this house. Sounded like we were in the middle of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I watched as the chickens were trying to move around the yard and at times it looked like they were being blown side-ways.

This week, however, is a carbon copy of last week (minus the weekend days). Blue skies, lots of sun and warm temperatures..... makes you really think that this part of the state was carved out of the proverbial heavens. Some of the bluebonnets and Indian paint-brushes have begun to bloom, and within the next couple of weeks, this house will look like it's sitting in the middle of a ocean filled with bluebonnets. Our neighbor across the road is waging a war against the yellow dandelion flowers. I don't mind the dandelions-- especially after going to Germany a couple of years ago. As we drove along the German roads, there were countless fields filled with yellow "butterblooms," as they called them. The butterblooms are a weed over there, but they are so bright and yellow, so prolific and hardy, that the Germans just let them take over the fields in the Spring for the simple reason that they're beautiful. Make dandelions, not war.

Scarlett, our red hen, is still sitting in her favorite nesting box. When she began her hatching odyssey nearly two weeks ago, she was sitting on an egg laid by one of the other chickens. As Scarlett got into her must-hatch mode, her own production of eggs ceased. Her one-egg-a-day routine was all but forgotten by that determined hen. She is determined to hatch, no longer determined to lay.

The chicken books all said the same thing-- don't let her sit on an unfertilized egg that isn't going to hatch because it's just going to get rancid. I was able to get that egg out from under her after two days, but Scarlett continued to sit in that nesting box. Then I started lifting her out of the box every morning and placing her on the floor of the coop near her food and water. The books also said that a hen determined to hatch her eggs (whether or not she's sitting on eggs) will sometimes not eat. So I did that every morning, and Scarlett got used to the routine because she quit fighting me so much after the second day.

After a week of that, I got to feeling sorry for poor Scarlett.... sitting in that nest without an egg underneath her. The books said we could use a fake egg..... something that would get warm as she sat on it and something that would satisfy her urge to sit on an egg. Into the box of Easter decorations I went..... and found an egg made of stone that I has spray-painted gold a few years ago for an Easter egg hunt that we hosted. (We hid all kinds of eggs around the house that Easter Sunday, but the person that found the golden egg got a special prize.)

So there I was one morning, lifting Scarlett out of her nesting box and setting her down by the food dish. Then I took that gold egg out of my pocket and put it into her favorite nesting box. She's been sitting on it ever since..... and because it's made of stone, it gets as warm as toast underneath her and she seems quite happy. According to the book, when she realizes that it isn't going to hatch, and when her hatching-hormones calm down a bit, she will just abandon that egg and go off and peck around the yard all day again. Needless to say, I will save that egg for the next hen who gets into a must-hatch mode.

The cats have all been going outside every day, and I have to admit that they love it. I also have to admit that I'm not loving it, but once you let them out, you can't take away that freedom. Mickey Kitty especially, who has missed the screen-porch from the old house, is running all over the yard and is determined to inspect every inch of the property. Sometimes he gets too far from the house and if I see him off in the fields I go out there and call him back. He always turns around and heads back towards the house, but one of these days for sure, I won't see him wandering off, and I'm hoping he has enough sense to turn himself around and not get too close to the woods at the perimeter of the property. Curiosity killed the you-know-what.

Sweet Pea's favorite thing to do is climb the big mesquite tree in the backyard. From the upper branches, he leaps to the roof of the house and walks around looking at his kingdom. He can get down from the roof by leaping back into the tree, but if I hear him meowing up there, I let him in from one of the upstairs balconies. This little cat has a heart murmur, according to the vet. The way he jumps and leaps and climbs, I find that hard to believe.

And Gatsby, our gentleman cat..... while the other two are running and exploring and chasing the chickens, Gatsby sits in his chair on the side porch and just watches. "Been there, done that. Seen that, chased that." Gatsby just sits and watches, or he's sound asleep. I'm always looking for Mickey and Sweet Pea, but never for Gatsby because he's almost always in the same spot.

I think the chickens turned around and chased Mickey one day because now Mickey goes out there and does what the other cats do with the chickens-- he ignores them. With all the other yard birds outside, Mickey is never at a loss for something to run after. When he comes into the house (by knocking his paw up against the screen door in the kitchen) Mickey flops down into his favorite chair in the TV room and sleeps for hours.

It's a cat's life here on the ranch.... and a chicken's life in Scarlett's nesting box. I'm keeping track of just how many days that hen is going to sit on that golden egg.