When I was a kid, roughly 4 to 5 years old, we had a babysitter. Very nice lady with kids of her own. Each day around 2:30 pm, like clock work, she would get her ironing board out, the soda bottle she used to sprinkle the clothes with and the basket full of ironing. She instructed us, with a very serious tone, to not talk and be still while she watched her program!
It was very difficult to be completely quiet, let alone still, but I did my best. Right at 2:30 pm, her program began. I apparently will never forget it. The program always started with some string music that sounded serious, with a big hour glass and a very calm deep male voice saying, "like sands through the hourglass, so are the Days of Our Lives."
Now I never understood why this program was so important to our babysitter. I would turn my head now and again looking at her to see how she was looking. She always looked so enraptured with the show. I thought it was silly and boring! But to keep on the babysitters good side, I watched it in a antsy sort of way.
That scene crosses my mind often as I look back at the last six months. It's like I am watching that big black and white hourglass coming at me, with that calm deep male voice saying, "like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives."
There are times when I feel like Dorothy, in the Wizard of Oz, trapped in the tower with that hourglass! Unable to do a thing, but watch. That mean old wicked witch!
The man with the calm, deep voice was right! Our lives are like the sand in that hour glass. They slip by ever so quickly! Sometimes I feel like I am on a speeding train watching life clicking by out the window.
I decided to share with you the sands through the hourglass that are the days of our lives. Try to keep the sand out of your shoes! You might want to go to the bathroom first and get something to drink before continuing.
As you may remember, I planted my spring crop in October just before we got an inch of rain. That rain was a great jump start for my crop seeds. Then there was no rain for nearly a month. The seed that sprang up from the ground with great promise, began to yellow and droop. No rain. No rain, just warm sunny weather. Finally just 29 days later, we got half an inch of rain. That bit of rain gave the seeds a little nourishment but no further growth.
It was looking ugly for those of us that farm. Farmers that were able to get crops in the ground were facing the prospect I was facing, losing our crop due to no rain. We were beginning to think that the drought would continue through the winter, if winter ever comes. I would check the crop once in a whle. Looked pitiful. We needed rain.
South field November 6, 2012 (3 weeks after planting)
Summer/fall finally left us after Thanksgiving. We finally began to see some rain. Not a great amount but half an inch here and an inch there, but it was slow in coming. December descended on us and we were still pretty dry with scant amounts of rain. But a wonderful thing happened. We got snow! Yep! Snow! Not great amounts but snow. Why am I so happy about snow? Great question as always.
Snow is a natural fertilizer for crops. Not 2 feet of snow, unless it melts immediately, but a few inches. We got two to three inches of snow over night. The next morning the sun came out, the snow melted. The fields got a good dose of nitrogen! This is very good indeed. Snow is full of nitrogen, which the crops love! An inch or two of snow is a great free fertilizer.
Last year I paid nearly $600.00 to fertilize with nitrogen! Yikes! Not doing that again! Getting this snow was free fertilizer! Yes, I was very happy. Now we had two snow falls during the winter. Each snow fall melted as fast as it came. We also had some temperatures in the teens and single digits at night, but nothing that stayed longer than a couple of days. This is good too. Why? If the hard freeze stays longer than a few days, your crop will die from it. But a few days does not hurt it.
Still the crop did not grow. The crop was behind in its growth, which lends itself to thinking we may not get much from this harvest if we can harvest, but it is still winter. We take a wait and see approach.
Side Bar: If you are into gambling or addicted to gambling, then farming is for YOU! Farming is a gamble. Each season, each crop is a gamble. Why? Farming is dependent on the weather. You can plow your fields to be weed free, amend your soils to have all the best nutrients, have the best seed that is weed free, (fertilize if you can afford it ) plant just before a good rain giving the seed a jump start, but and this is important, BUT once the seed is in the ground, your work is done. Now you wait on the weather to bring sun, rain, warmth and cold at the needed times. THAT is the gamble. You wait on weather. Oh you could wring your hands and pace back and forth and check the weather forecasts and your crop every day, but none of that will make the crop grow. You wait on the weather. Some years are good, some years are losses, some years are lean and some years are so so. It is all dependent on what the weather brings.
Don't bother worrying, unless you like to worry and twist your face up into a mass of worry lines, (which according to my parents, your face will stay that way) it won't change the weather or the outcome of your crop. I learned this after the first year of farming. Now, I plant as close to a rainy day as I can. The rest is up to whatever the weather brings. Best to let it go! Otherwise you will drive yourself and others absolutely crazy!
While waiting for the weather to bring the much needed rain, the sands through the hourglass are still falling.
The beginning of November, Blinkin, our tough old chicken died in my arms. She was nearly 6 years old. Laying hens live roughly 6 years. They only lay eggs for 3 years. She is missed terribly by me. The ducks on the other hand are happy. They like to sing, ding dong the wicked old witch is dead. I miss her antics and her help keeping the ducks from fighting during molting season.
Blinkin April 2007 to November 2012
I talked to you about Sneezy our hyper cat. She was diagnosed with cancer the winter of 2011. She had a rare cancer for cats. That being said, there was no treatment for her. She had 4 surgeries removing tumors as they appeared. The last surgery was it. With each surgery, the cancer tumors came back faster and more aggressively.
remodel.
We knew we were fighting a losing battle. Her last surgery was in August of 2012. The cancer won. On December 31, 2012, she made her last ride to the vet. This was the first time she did not cry, howler, cry, howler all the way to the vets. She was ready to go.
Sneezy, December 12, 2012 Her neck and chest on the left side are enlarged by the cancer
She was nestled in my arms wrapped in a couple of fleeces with a hot water bottle to help keep her warm. We drove the back roads taking in the farms, cattle and trees. She looked all around taking it all in. She purred the entire way. Every now and again she would say something to me. I like to think she said, thanks for rescuing, loving, and caring for me.
We got to the vet's office. They were ready for us. We said our goodbyes. She hissed once at the vet. Her parting shot for all those surgeries. She purred while I held her as her life slipped away.
As Sneezy was losing her battle with cancer, Little Dude was ill. This was on December 21, 2012. Took him to a bird vet an hour away. He was anemic. Because of this, they cannot draw blood. Ducks have very little blood to begin with so taking blood from an anemic duck could kill him. Since his illness could not be diagnosed, the vet put him on a broad spectrum antibiotic. We also got him some baby bird formula. The formula gives them energy and vitamins they need. We did not even know this existed. We mixed it up and fed him twice a day via syringe. He did not like it but too weak to fight it.
He began to get stronger and a little curious as to his new digs. He stayed in our spare bathroom. He had a nice bed, a space heater and a heat lamp! It was a constant 85 to 90 degrees in that bathroom. But he was a happy little duck.
He was doing so well, then suddenly took a dive. I came in in the morning to clean his water and change his bedding. He was in bad, bad shape. His head was flopping! I knew he was near death. I called the vet and they worked us in. It is an hour drive one way. The vet stated that he had an underlying illness that did not present until we cleared up the first illness. He got two antibiotics this time. The vet gave him his first dose.
On the drive home, Little Dude sat in the passenger seat next to me. He looks bad. He looks so weak and frail. The rain began to fall. He tilted his head and looked up, but could not feel the rain. He did that a couple of times. He laid his head on my hand as I stroked him. He was slipping.
Got him home and walked slowly through the rain to the house, so he could feel it. Put him in his bed and got the heat and heat lamp on him. He was resting. I went back a little later to feed him some baby bird formula and he was lying on the floor dead. I buried him next to Sneezy.
runt physically, but a giant in personality.
He always looked after his woman, Oma.
He always took a beating but hung in there.
Dude is missed. Oma, for quite sometime needed me to walk her into her enclosure. She would just sit and wait. Dude either followed or led the way in each day.
January 8, 2013.
He was the leader of the ducks. We did not realize it until his departure, but the other ducks followed Dude's lead. He is missed. He was a character. Each day he made me laugh with some antic of his.
The sands through the hourglass finished for Blinkin, Sneezy and Little Dude. But spill on for the rest of us.
Late December we had snow. I was a bit concerned it might freeze the ground and not melt, but it melted that day. The crop got a good drink and some nitrogen.
February was cold, warm, some rain and cloudy. The crops still not doing much. They were behind in growth.
Now my folks are snow birds. They fly, I wish, to Arizona each fall. They spend the winter there and enjoy nice mild sunny temperatures. They usually return to Seattle once the temperatures stay in the mid to upper 90's.
I talk with my folks nearly every day. When they are in Arizona, they are difficult to catch on the phone. They are very, very busy enjoying retirement!
But this year, it was different. My dad was not doing well physically. He did some extremely heavy lifting. All this and a lifetime of hard work, finally did his rotor cuff in! He was in a great deal of pain. Now my dad has this belief that you just muscle through pain.
Believe me, he has reinforced this in his kids. As kids growing up, whenever we got hurt, and he was around, he would say, "shake it off, walk it off. It is not that bad." When I broke my leg at the age of 12, he was home and kept telling me to shake it off and walk it off. Problem was, I could not stand on both legs! My siblings and I actually live the motto to this day. We tend to do just that, shake off the injury. My dad is trying to shake off the fact that he cannot sleep because of his shoulder pain, lift anything and worst of all, play golf!!! But he is out there golfing, in pain, shaking it off!
Finally he got into see an orthopedic who told him his rotor cuff is torn, not a little tear, but a big tear. He got a shot in each shoulder to ease the pain. His other shoulder has been picking up the slack and was hurting too. It did help until he slipped and caught himself and yes, made the shoulder worse.
My mom is not much better off. She had a blotched up shoulder surgery three years earlier and can barely use the arm and cannot reach up at all. She has tremendous pain, but never says too much about it. They are both crazy! But I love them dearly.
Each day the conversation is about what they are doing. Then the conversations begin to change. My dad, who zips around like a humming bird, really!, is not zipping. In fact, he is losing weight rapidly, having night sweats, not sleeping, not hungry. This is not something a kid wants to hear about their parent. But needs to hear.
Now I am caring for Vinny. My 14 year old cat with renal failure and hyper thyroid. I have not traveled to see my family because of my ill and dying pets. Vinny is doing well. I decide to go and investigate what is really going on with my folks. Conversations with each parent separately gives me two different pictures. I need to find out which picture is true.
I left on Sunday March 3rd. I was staying for 3 days and leaving on the 4th day. I arrive at Phoenix airport to find my dad not looking good. He noticeably had lost weight. His breathing is labored. He sweats really easily. I am not liking this at all.
My mom looks okay, but I see the worry and fear in her eyes over my dad. She is not sleeping because of my dad and she also is not eating. They are a mess. They are relieved, I think, to see me. I am now switching into take charge person. I learned that from my folks too.
We have a really nice breakfast out, but my folks share a breakfast, which was not really enough for either of them. I take note of this. I watch them and listen to them and listen to what is not being said. I do not like this situation at all.
We get back to their place. My dad needs a nap. Not like him at all. My mom needs to talk. I knew that the minute I saw her. I decide I will fix dinner and want to make them something nice. I need to visit the grocery store. My mom and I leave my dad to rest. She unloads it all. Again, not something a kid wants to hear but really glad to know it.
My dad has lost 20lbs in less than a month! Not good. I already know where this is going. We have been down this road many times. It is possible his cancer is back. But I am not going there just yet. My mom on the other hand, well as they say the train left the station on that thought. She is sure his cancer is back with a vengeance. I am not sure, but trying to tell someone else it could be something else is like squeezing blood out of a turnip. I just listen.
Next morning, Monday, my dad has lost another 3lbs over night. OKAY, this is really not good. I voiced my thought. "Let's fly you home today!" My dad the guy that shakes it off and muscles through it, says, "I need to go home." My heart sank into my gut. He is not well.
I jump on the computer and bat-ta bing, bat-ta boom he has a one way ticket home that afternoon. Now he starts to back track, shaking it off again.......He thinks he can pack up their place and drive 200 or 300 hundred miles a day to get home. My mom and I put our foot through the floor. I remind him this is not a refundable ticket. Okay, he will fly home.
Our drive to the airport, an hour away, convinced him he could not make that drive home. Thank you! We get him seat assistance. Of course, like most men, he did not need it. But again foot through the floor encouraged him to take it. They wheeled him to the plane. They wheeled him from the plane right up to my baby sister and her husband. He did not have to walk any distance at all. He was so glad for the seat assistance! He is home. Calls his doctors gets appts. setup that week.
Meanwhile back in Arizona, I call my husband with the news. He calls work and puts himself on personal leave. My mom and I begin the task of closing up their home to make the trek back to Seattle. We clean out cupboards, give food away. Empty the fridge give food away. Clean the house from top to bottom, put sheets on the furniture, get everything packed and loaded into their van. We did this in three days. It normally takes my folks one week to get all this done. Did we forget anything? Yes, we did. But friends returning to Seattle later on brought back the forgotten items for them.
During this time, lots, I mean lots of people stop by to talk with my mom and wish my dad well and wish us a safe trip. There are a great many tears shared. I was awe struck at the number of friends. A very emotionally draining time, but good to have friends willing to share in your sorrows.
We would at times stop our work and cry and talk about my dad. I don't think I was much comfort for my mom. I tried. During this three day marathon to pack and leave, I met a really nice couple from Canada. They are friends of my folks. They were kind enough to invite us over to dinner one evening. OH MY, what a tasty, wonderful spread! Betty can cook!!! A fabulous cook!! She made these wonderful lemon bars, my absolute favorite. She added coconut to them which made them even better! I ate like I had not eaten in days! Which actually, I had not eaten much, as we were busting our backsides to get out of Arizona and get my mom home to my dad.
They sent those wonderful lemon bars for our trip along with home made rolls and cinnamon rolls!!! What a treat for a road trip. Other friends came by and helped us pack the van. We appreciated all the help and support!
We finally pull out of their place Thursday morning March 7th. We are not on the road an hour when I get a call from my husband. Vinny is not eating. Oh no, not good. He is taking him to the vet that afternoon. I of course begin to cry. I try not to for my mom's sake, but I cannot hold the tears back. I was afraid it was his time and I was not there and could not be there for him.
It took me sometime to get my composure and wait to hear from my husband. I focused on the drive. This was all new scenery for me. Not much to see but desert, Joshua trees, rocks and lots of long winding roads. But it was a nice drive. Cellular service was spotty at best. Late that afternoon I hear from my husband, Vinny is doing okay. Vinny is 14 years old. He has not eaten much dry food since the renal failure was discovered. His teeth were in bad shape from a year of eating wet food. He has tender gums. So syringe feeding is what will happen now. Hmmm..... Okay.
We got a late start on Thursday, which my dad was not happy about. He wanted us to follow his route and their usual stops for the night. We did not do that, much to his unhappiness. We stayed in different places. The first stop was in a Nevada town called Caliente. Sleepy little town. There is actually a book called, Through the Rainbow Canyon. It gives the history of the area. The hotel we stayed at was on the main drag, which is quiet at night. Very clean, very nice and they have satellite TV. Sorry, do not remember the name of the hotel. Now there is an old train station still standing that has been restored. Here is a picture of it. Oh by the way, the train does go through the town. I heard it and the whistle at around 11:00pm and then again in the morning around 5:00 am. Does not sound like it is coming through your room, but not too far away. I highly recommend it though.
The other two hotels were nice but nothing memorable. My dad calls every day all day checking on our progress. We knew when we had cellular service when my dad called. He was a bit anxious for us to get there.
While on the road, he saw his oncologist and his cardiologist. Fabulous! His cardiologist ordered an echo cardiogram to be done. His oncologist ordered a full body scan to be done and in the meantime, they took blood.
Blood work revealed he was hyper thyroid. I mean really hyper. Dangerously hyper. This can explain the rapid weight loss, lack of appetite, sweats, breathing trouble and of course, stroke comes into play here when the thyroid gets this high! His oncologist changes his thyroid medication and they go ahead with the full body scan and the echo cardiogram just to make sure.
We roll into Seattle the afternoon of Saturday, March 9th. We actually made good time. It was a nice trip in that I got to spend some quality time with my mom. Since I moved to Texas, we have not had much time together, so the road trip was nice in that aspect.
My brother in law and baby sister are there to greet us. They help us unpack and my folks next door neighbor lends a hand. I talk with my husband that night. He thinks Vinny is taking a turn for the worst. Again the tears. He was on my mind all the way to Seattle. I was hoping he would hold on until I got home to him.
There were no flights that evening leaving for Texas and everything on Sunday was over sold. I had to wait until Monday to fly home.
I arrive at home Monday night, March 11, 2013 to find Vinny looking so terribly bad. So very bad. I felt so bad for making him wait until I got home. Vinny lost another pound in a day. He now weighs 4lbs. At his best, he weighed 13lbs.
I stay up with him all night. He is so restless. He does not say anything. He just paces and when he can he sleeps. He is hungry but won't eat.
He wears his stoic face. At 7:30AM, I pack him up and head off to the vet. I know he needs fluids badly. The vet took one look at him and said, "he did not look like this on Thursday." He told me to go home and take some time before making the decision. They put Vinny on fluids to help him out. I cried all the way home.
My dear little faithful friend of 14 years is dying. My heart is broken.
I talk with my husband, but know this is the end. I do not want him to suffer any further. I call the vet. We return that afternoon. We say our goodbyes. I hold Vinny. I feel his life slip away. We bring him home and bury him next to Little Dude.
I called Vinny, Mr. mom. He was the leader and parent to all the cats we rescued. He never complained and always accepted each new rescue.
Farewell my dear friend.
It was the next early evening after Vinny's death, just before sunset when I saw this skunk walking around across from the house. Hmmmmm....this is not a good sign. I have learned over the years, that when you see a nocturnal critter out before dark, they are usually dying and want water before their death. He disappeared and I went on with my work.
I saw him again the next early evening. I was still concerned. The next early evening I was walking out to close up the ducks for the night. I see this little skunk. The skunk looked at me with that look I have seen all to often. The look with dull eyes with complete and total exhaustion bordering on death.
I walk back to the house quickly and got a bowl of water and some of the cat's dry food. I go back to where I saw the little skunk. Yes, he/she was still there. Too weak to run, to weak to fight. I noticed the problem when it tried to move away from me. It had a broken back leg. Oh no! I set the food and water down really close to the pallet it managed to crawl under. I backed way up. But within sight of the skunk.
The weak little thing dragged itself out and drank and drank and drank and drank water. it ate some of the food and drank again. I left the little skunk alone to eat and drink. I was of course concerned for its safety! It was now vulnerable to others. But I knew I could not pick it up and care for it.
I looked for the little critter the next day and following week. I left food and water at the original site, just in case. I did not see it for a couple of weeks. Then one night around 10:00 PM, there it was hopping on three legs eating the cat food we leave out at night. I was so happy to see the little skunk. I was hopeful it would be okay.
At this writing I saw the little skunk last week. It is using the back leg more, walking a bit better, but still kind of runs skips on the three legs. It is looking better each time I get to see it. I am very hopeful the little skunk will survive.
Here it is the middle of March and the crops....well, they are doing okay. Not great, but okay.
This picture was taken on March 15th. The pond as you can see is over flowing. Our ducks are enjoying it. The fields behind it are growing slowly
This picture below was taken March 30th.
What you notice right away is the mustard growing in the field! In fact the mustard is doing better than the actual crop....
There is absolutely nothing you can do about the mustard this late in the game. Best to just let it grow. We found ourselves weeding the mustard out along the edges of the field. It grew vigorously in this field.
March slips into April. Good and bad news on the parents front. My dad had a heart attack either in Arizona or when he got home. He did not know it. His pacemaker did a good job. The reason he was unaware of the heart attack was explained by the cardiologist. Apparently as you get older, your heart begins to numb. So it is not truly aware of the attack. Something to look forward to...........not really.
The good news, his cancer did not return! His problems all stemmed from his hyper thyroid. Also good news, he is having shoulder surgery in July. He should be up and golfing, without pain, by the time they head back to Arizona.
In real estate there are three things to remember, location, location, location. With small farms like mine, the three things are diversify, diversify, diversify.
This spring we began just that. The crops are not always something you can count on. As I said before, it is a gamble each season.
I am diversifying our farm, which is considered a hobby farm. Believe me it does feel like a hobby. It is hard work and it never stops.
My first diversification is berries. The picture below is the beginning of our diversifying. In these raised beds, we are growing Tayberry plants.
Here is a little information on them. Tayberry (Rubus fruticosus x idaeus) is a cultivated shrub in the genus Rubus of the family Rosaceae patented in 1979 as a cross between a blackberry and a red raspberry, and named after the river Tay in Scotland. The fruit is sweeter, much larger, and more aromatic than that of the loganberry, itself a blackberry and red raspberry cross. The tayberry is grown for its edible fruits which can be eaten raw or cooked. The tayberry can be eaten fresh or used for making jams, pies, or wine. The reddish-purple berry is larger and sweeter than most raspberry or blackberry varieties, but still retains some tartness. The bushes yield much fruit, which can be harvested from July through August. Not sure we will harvest any fruit this year, but we shall see. Next I need to install a drip system for watering.
One of our Tayberry plants today. Looking good!
While we were busy with this project, we heard this loud crash coming from the fenced in area for the dogs. We both hot foot it to the back. Wow! One of our big oak trees crashed onto the fence. The dogs were not near it at the time. Made the 6 foot high fence section into a 3 foot high fence section.
As you know, we have been in a drought situation for two years. Now that we are getting some rain. Some of our trees that weathered the drought are not doing well. This one is part of a three trunk tree. The other two trunks are dying. Sad too, these are big trees.
This is just behind the fence. There is a small tree that is holding the tree from completely hitting the ground and destroying the fence.
Not long after this incidence I purchased some southern blueberry bushes. Another part of my diversification plan. I purchased eight bushes, two each of four varieties. So far they are doing great! Since I haven't seen any blueberry bushes here in the south, I did a little research. Guess what? There are northern blueberry bushes and southern blueberry bushes. Now in the south there are two types of blueberry bushes.
The type I ordered this year is called Rabbiteye. The Rabbiteye Blueberry is native to the southeastern United States. I bought two of the variety called Tift Blue, two of Premier, two of Powder Blue and two Brightwell. You need at least two different varieties for cross pollination. This will produce a better and more productive crop.
Next year I want to purchase the southern blueberry bush called Southern Highbush. Here is some information about them:
The Southern Highbush blueberry is a cross between Northern Highbush blueberries and native Southern species, giving it a greater range of adaptation than either of its parents. The Southern Highbush tolerates a wider range of soil conditions and temperature variations. The fruits are smaller than Rabbiteye blueberries but no less tasty. Southern Highbush blueberries are becoming more popular for both home and commercial plantings for the production of delicious berries before Rabbiteye blueberries start ripening. The Southern Highbush blueberry is an excellent choice for Gulf Coastal States but also for people in the upper south or middle states like Virginia or Kentucky, as they are a little more cold hardy than Rabbiteye Blueberries. Here are a few varieties: O'NEAL, SHARP BLUE, and MISTY.
Here are a few pictures of the Rabbiteye blueberries.
Aren't these just beautiful looking fruit? Wouldn't you like a handful right now? Probably not right now, but soon, very soon.
The next thing I need to do for these blueberries is install a drip irrigation system for them. I also need to net them very, very soon or I will be feeding the birds, squirrels and other critters fresh blueberries!!!
As you can see, we are busy little farmers. Meanwhile back to the crop! We are having rain, sun, wind and high humidity. In fact, my husband and I are sensing this spring is like the spring of 2007. We bought soy seed that spring to plant. The rain would not let up until July. We never got to plant soy that year.
We are getting two to three days of sun and humidity, then a day or two of rain, not crazy flood rain, just steady on and off rain. Enough that you cannot walk or drive out into the field without getting stuck in our gumbo soil.
My husband on one of his rare opportunities to drive one of the tractors.
Now you know from reading past blogs that we rescue animals. Specifically dogs, cats, chickens, ducks and one baby skunk. Having animals is a great deal of work, expense and very time consuming. But they do bring much joy and sadly sorrow.
April 11, 2013 started out like a typical day on the farm. My husband was off to work. I was planning my day of 'to do' list. The dogs were outside playing and all was right with my world. Then it happened. I heard the play bark turn into a loud painful "yelp" and fighting! I was out in the front yard with our dog Amy. I ran through the fence gate to see three of my big dogs chewing (literally) on one of my smaller dogs (Kadee). The horror of that scene will live with me the rest of my life. One was taking bites from the front of the neck, one was tearing at the head and neck and the third was tearing at the back of the neck.
I am wildly trying to pull these dogs off of her. I am screaming at the top of my lungs, seriously. I am kicking, hitting doing all I can to stop them. I cannot run to the house for the shot gun because I would be too late to save Kadee. I am screaming and screaming. This is a down side to living in the country. If anyone does you hear, they usually do not respond, just go about their business.
Out of options, I just pray to God to save her and me. I jump on top of Kadee and shield her with my body. I was bitten on my chin, neck and hands. I felt the teeth biting my neck and told myself not to pull away or it would be really bad for me. I just let the dog bite me. Covering Kadee with my body and hitting the dogs in their faces finally brought them out of "pack kill mode."
This is Kadee at 5 months old. She is not any larger, just older. She is 6 years old now.
Poor Kadee, all I could see was blood covering her head and neck. She was just shaking and shaking. I grab her and call the vet telling them I am on my way with an emergency. I call my husband told him to come home, I was hurt and may need to see a doctor. I get Kadee to the vet. She is in bad shape. They whisk her to surgery. I did not take pictures of her. I have her torn up image burned in my mind.
The receptionist/tech took one look at me and said, " you need to go to the doctor now!" I said, "no. I am fine just a scratch." She and another receptionist/tech took me to the bathroom and started cleaning me up. I saw myself for the first time. I was hurt. My neck would not stop bleeding. The inside of my index finger on my left hand was slashed open and my pinky finger on my right hand was slashed open on the top and inside. I had a bite on the top of my left hand. I called my husband and told him I needed to go to the Care Now clinic in McKinney, and probably get stitches. He flew his car to the vets office instead of home to fetch me.
I ended up with 18 stitches. I could not feel my chin or neck wounds. I think that is why I forgot about the bites. Here is a picture of the wounds a few days later.
I did not take pictures of my hands. They have healed nicely. I did get a nasty infection in my left index finger. I ended up on two antibiotics for 2 weeks. The stitches on my index finger had to come out after one day, due to the infection. I nearly passed out when the doctor took the stitches out then proceeded to squeeze the pus out of the wound. Infection hurts worst than the wound! I soaked my finger twice a day with Epsom salts, (the doc wanted me to use soapy water, but the salts really draw the infection out.) Also the stitches in my neck had to stay in longer because the skin was not adhering.
The problem with dog bites is infection. Doctors do not like to stitch up dog bite wounds because of infection. They stitched me but left an opening at the top and bottom of the wounds for seepage. The neck wound seeped for a full 24 hours before stopping. I am just now getting feeling back in my chin and neck. I get little shooting pains letting me know the nerves are healing. There is also swelling around the neck wound still. The swelling will eventually disappear. My two fingers are not as stiff and painful now. Still get some nerve pain in my fingers. The healing is slow. But for now the healing continues for both of us.
Kadee had to have two surgeries to finally close up her wounds. She had two types of infection. She still has one open wound which will take three more months to heal completely. I clean and medicate it daily. She suffered some nerve damage to the left side of her face from all the wounds. She is on antibiotics until the wound closes up completely.
She was on an antibiotic that kills humans. That was a lot of fun to dispense. I could not handle the pills without gloves on. This antibiotic causes deadly (death) cancers to humans if handled. What a joy.........not. Of course, Kadee would not take it after the first two pills. I finally ended up crushing it and mixing it with hot water and baby food and syringing it. Of course, she spewed it all over herself and me. I was always quick to clean up myself and her.
Thankfully she no longer needs those antibiotics. Here is a picture of my wounds today.
As you can see, I healed up nicely. My mom had to ask, "why would you jump into a dog fight?" In case you are asking that too, the answer is simple. To save a life.
I told my mom these scars just add character to my face. Her response, "you have enough character without these!"
Since this incident, the dogs are now separated. The four big dogs are outside all day. The smaller dogs are inside all day. The big dogs come in at night when I and/or my husband are inside. The big dogs lives are not as comfortable now. The little dogs are living the life.
If, and I mean if, this ever happens again, I will shoot all dogs involved. I will grieve deeply for them, but I cannot and will not go through this again. I am very fortunate I was not mauled or killed by the "pack kill mode" the dogs were in.
Once dogs go into "pack kill mode," all their training goes out the window. No amount of spraying water, hitting them with a broom or whatever will stop them. As a neighbor, who is a vet said, "the only way to stop them in this mode is with a .357 magnum." Sadly that is true.
Here is what caused all of this. When we rescued our last dog our group of dogs changed from six to seven. This vet pointed out that the odd number amount of dogs causes fighting among them to be alpha. The fighting is to the death. When it was just the six, we had no problems, but we did not know about this mentality of the dogs before taking on number 7. Now we do. We keep the little dogs away from the big dogs.
While Kadee and I are healing, the fields are finally growing! The bare spots are filling in. It looks like we might get a harvest after all.
Here are shots of the winter peas, oats, wheat and rye.
Winter peas are beginning to bloom. Aren't they pretty?
If I let the peas go, I would get pea pods. I had some winter peas growing in the yard. I let them flower then grow the pods.
Just like regular peas. See the pods?
Here is the Red Clover. Not bad looking.
The Oats are the ones with the little seed heads. The Rye is long and slender grass looking
This is the Rye.
This is my field of mustard. But the crop is finally taking hold and really growing.
April 29, 2013 a day like any other day. It is around 4:30 in the afternoon. I am behind in my work. I finally get to the ducks and cleaning their coop. I go into Jonathan and Mac's side first. Jonathan is in the pool and shows no sign of jumping out to get away from me. How odd. Finally he climbs out. I put the pump in there little pool. I see something moving! Oh no, not again! There is a little mouse (this time alive!) doing its best to swim laps looking for a way out of the pool Jonathan was just in! I get the little guy out of the pool. It shoots out of the coop like to was shot out of a canon. Poor little water logged thing.
I pump the pool and chase the boys out of the coop and into the late afternoon sun! Jonathan runs out with Mac and turns around and runs back in and collapses?! Oh no. Something is terribly wrong here. I go into the house. I make a nice bed for Jonathan in our spare bathroom. I bring in fresh water. I get the syringes ready with two antibiotics left over from Little Dude's illness. I fix up a syringe of baby bird formula too.
Jonathan on the left, his brother Mac on the right. They were constant talkers. About what I will never know! I think they talked about girls.
I called the vet. It is too late today to go in (hour drive one way). I have an appointment for him in the morning. I go back out to the coop. Jonathan is sitting in front of one of the water dishes. I pick him up, which was not difficult. This is a bad sign. I get him in his new digs, medicate him and feed him. I leave him alone. I go back out and finish cleaning up the coop. I go in and check on Jonathan. He is standing over the water bowl drinking. Good. I tell him I will be back to feed him when I finish up outside.
Jonathan October 2010, fully grown. A talker
I finish up my evening chores. I come in fix up a syringe of baby bird formula. I head for the spare bathroom, opening the door I find Jonathan lying dead next to the water dish. He had not been dead long. He was still warm. It is now 7:30 in the evening. Sunset is at 8:00. I pick him up, crying as I hold him. Poor guy. What happened to take him so fast? He was fine before today, or at least that was the appearance he gave.
The only guess I have is the mice. The coop this spring has been infested with mice. I kept finding them dead in the boys water dishes and in their pools. I think Jonathan would catch them and play with them in his water. This is the only thing I can think of.
I miss the boy. He and Mac talked all the time. I mean all the time.
The only time they did not talk was when a snake was in the coop. They
would stand opposite the snake like statues and not make a sound.
I buried Jonathan next to Vinny. The sun is setting, the mosquitoes are eating me up. As the last light of day slips away, I finished laying Jonathan to rest and covered his grave to keep him safe.
Here is a video of both boys with Oma. They both loved Oma, well actually all the girls. But Oma was their queen.
Jonathan always chased Little Dude away. I chased Jonathan away from Little Dude. It was our dance.
Jonathan and Mac were rescued, then came to us November 2009, Jonathan left us April 29, 2013.
The morning of April 30th, I went out to check on the ducks. Mac was not talking. Upon closer inspection, he did not eat or drink from the night before. He missed his brother. I decided to keep him from dying of a broken heart, I put him in with Oma.
Oh mercy, she was not at all happy! Not at all. She did not mind the boys following her around outside, but to have that boy in her enclosure, all the time?!.....NO WAY.
They kind of get along. Oma has this like dislike relationship with Mac. He is okay to go outside and run around with, but he had better not go after Phoebe.
It is molting season. Some of the birds are in their molt, some are nearly done and others are done. The best way I can describe the molting of the female ducks is this. They are PMS-ing or menopausal. Either one is deadly.
Buffy and Phoebe by the pond
Buffy and Phoebe both go through molting at the same time. They fight with each other and with Oma and Mac. It is a hormone festival. I mean they are yelling at each other, fighting with each other and just plan unhappy ducks.
Oma will grab Mac by the back of his neck feathers and jerk him around. She will also grab him by his chest feathers and pull him all over. Chew him out royally. He is not the brightest duck in the flock. He takes it from Oma and stupidly goes back and bugs her again! She again will grab a hold of him and thrash him about.
Oma would like to kill Phoebe as well. She is not happy that Mac chases after Phoebe. Of course, Oma does not share well. Mac is not smart enough to leave Phoebe alone. Phoebe would just soon drown the boy than look at him. It is a love fest.
Meanwhile, if Phoebe could get her head through the chicken wire between Mac and herself she would take his head off and hand it to him. She tries and tries to beat on him through the fence. He is too dumb to not understand she hates him not wants him!
Buffy on the other hand will trash talk Oma and Mac. When they get outside, Buffy and Oma will go head to head. They will physically fight with each other. Buffy and Phoebe will fight with each other too. I am telling you it is so noisy out in the coop, I cannot stand to be around them.
I tried separating Oma and Mac. But Oma gets jealous (really?) because he is in the enclosure next to the girls and not Oma's. I put the girls where Mac was and put him closer to Oma, but apart. She is better but not completely happy?!? I give up. I was tired of playing musical enclosures and put the girls in their original enclosure and Mac back with Oma.
The trash talking continues between Buffy, Oma and Phoebe. Mac is throwing in his two cents, as well. Oma is still throwing Mac around. I will be so happy when the molting season is over! I think the loss of Blinkin, Little Dude and Jonathan plays a part in the chaos going on right now. They are all deciding who is who in the duck yard! If Phoebe ever gets a hold of Mac, I think that boy will not know what knocked him down and dragged him across the yard. But if Oma and Phoebe decide to team to take on Mac, he does not stand a chance. The feathers keep flying! Oh joy, molting season.......
April 30th. The crop is ready for harvest!!!
Looks like we will harvest more than mustard! Yippee! The oats have headed out, the rye is ready, the clover is blooming, the winter peas are flowering.
Next blog: the joys and sorrows of harvest.....coming soon!
