Signs of Spring Maybe

Signs of Spring Maybe Usually my first thought of spring comes with the robins. Might be too early for them to show up though. I suppose they're held up somewhere south by the Missouri snowstorms. However, I've been paying attention to other signs right here at home. Two weeks ago one evening after dark, I looked out the window and noted the Case tractor in the machine shed was glowing in the dark. It might have been the way the yard light on the barn shone on it. So I poked my head out the back door for another look. The west end of the machine shed was lit up all right, but no way was I going to tread through ice and snow in the dark to turn of a light when I knew I'd come face to face with a raccoon. The next morning when I turned off the light, one of the two wild hens who spent the winter in the machine shed was missing. That night the machine shed was lit up again. The next morning the other wild hen was gone, and both ends of the machine shed was lit up this time. I knew the reason was a wiley raccoon. He left tracks in the mud the size of a dog. He weighed almost as much as a dog, too. I'd say his eyesight and smell were failing him if he needed the lights on to catch the hens. Yesterday I noticed seven eagles in the cornfield across the road. They always show up in February, and each year the number of the flock increases. They spend a month or so in a small timber by us and go on to one of the rivers to nest and fish for food. The flock looked to be in a conference about how to get a chicken or one of my cats. They may have already had a rabbit dinner. The two rabbits I've seen scampering around here haven't been sighted for a few days. Not that it bothers me. The rabbits can eat their weight in garden plants and then some. Three days ago I let the chickens loose. They didn't care about the strong north wind, and that it was cold underfoot. Freedom felt good after being shut up since October. I've found they have good memories. Odd Man rooster headed for the barn, ready to go to his second home. I had the doors shut so he went on a sit down strike in front of the walk in door. He crowed for hens to join him. None did so he sat all day with a cold north wind ruffling his feathers as he stared wistfully at the door and crowded for me to open it up. At dusk, I shut the chicken house door and thought Odd Man went in. Next morning there he was just after sunrise, stubbornly doing his sit down strike again in front of the barn door. I don't what snow bank he hid behind, but he'd hid out. I was determined he wasn't going to be a raccoon's meal so I didn't open the barn door. That evening I didn't see Odd Man anywhere. Before I shut the chicken house door I peeked in. Odd Man was close to the door as if he might bale out if one of the roosters gave him a hard time. Two nights of being outside was enough. I felt as if we'd played a game of chicken for two days, and I won. Yesterday afternoon. was the goat revolt. I was about to leave home when I looked out the west window. All eleven head of goats were grazing by the garden. They had been shut in the barn for months. When Oliver Billy decides he has had enough of being closed in by four walls, he does something about it. This wasn't his first escape. He'd butted the roll door until he could squeeze though a crack, and every nanny followed him. I have wanted to let them go, but right now there is an ice berg in the gate hole, and the gate is open. The snow was supposed to blow on through and across the lot. That didn't happen. The goats came over the drift and were free, proving they always find an open gate hole. I picked up a two gallon pail I keep on the porch and walked outside where they could see me, calling, "Come on." The herd came running, but would only go over the icy mound if I went first so I walked them back to the barn and shut them in. I knew that wouldn't work for long so I improvised by using what I could find to close the gate hole. Note the picture and realize I'm not an experienced fence maker. Don't laugh until you had to get in a billy and his nannies.

Just as I was leaving for the third time to get the plywood, one of the nannies squeezed out the roll door again. She ran to me and followed me. I knew if I didn't hurry I'd have to get the other ten in again. Once I had the plywood in place, I opened the roll door and let the goats go. Even the freedom to roam where they live didn't satisfy Oliver Billy. He nosed my fence and butted the plywood to see if it would fall over. I popped him on the head with my pail. He got the message for the moment and backed up to follow the nannies to graze in the hay field.

What I found this morning was Oliver's message about my gate. He knocked the plywood down and went back to the barn to wait for to be fed. Just proves to me, I'm never going to win playing a game of chicken with him. Tomorrow is to be a warm spring day. Hopefully, the ice berg melts fast or softens up so I can shovel out enough of it to close the gate. If not, I'm going to be chasing goats daily and even in my dreams. If these are signs of spring, I'd rather go back to the tried and true signs like robins and morel mushrooms. The story I just posted about signs of spring is one of the many experiences that I've had taking care of animals. These real life experiences are what I use in my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series by Fay Risner. Nurse Hal has had many livestock related incidents that actually happened to me first. Want to read any of the Nurse Hal series and try to pick out what really happened to me first? Starting March 1st for a week my ebooks are going to be on sale for half price at smashwords.com.