Training Cleo

Cleo, as I may have mentioned, is my third St Bernard, but my first St Bernard pup - Billy and Athena were both adult dogs when I got them and knew basic good behaviour.  Cleo is now seven months old and about the size of a full grown German Shepherd, though I think she weighs more than your average German Shepherd now.  She is what my Nana would have called a Gop (a term my Nana seemed to reserve just for me in my younger days) - Cleo is full of energy, a bit clumsy with those big feet and always racing around looking for mischief or fun and frolic.  She's not particular as to whether it's the former or the latter, just so she's up and doing. My son Josh, when walking Cleo to the lamb shed when we were bottle feeding the hoard, was heard to say to Cleo, "Where's the dignity?"  He was used to walking Billy who was both dignified and sedate on the end of a lead.  Billy always channelled his show days and walked with the air of a well trained butler leading visitors to the sitting room.  As I keep telling everyone that Cleo will settle down in a year or two and become the staid, sedate dog St Bernards are known for, but in the meantime training sessions and just walks in the garden are fraught with adventure - for both Cleo and me.

I'm trying to train Cleo in the basic good behaviour commands with little success at the moment, but I hold hope tightly in my heart. She's not too bad at "Sit" but the rest of the   commands are still an enigma to her.  She does "Heel" when told to, but only for a second or two then she's back to charging forward on the lead and towing me along as if she thought she was a Husky instead of a St Bernard.  Cleo is working on obeying the "Drop" command as well, but it always turns into a "please rub the tummy" position as soon as she's on the ground.  Let me tell you, trying to get a seven month old St Bernard up off the ground to continue her lessons when she's in tummy rub mode is not easy!  Especially when I can't give her the tummy rubs because that would be a reward for bad behaviour.  "Come" and "Stay" are closed books to Cleo. She is absolutely incapable of staying. Cleo will sit like a good puppy and look at me with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth and she'll even acknowledge my hand at her nose to make her stay in the one spot. I know she's acknowledged it because she tries to lick my hand before I start to step away. Trouble is she's right there with me from the first step I take backwards. We go through the "Sit", "Stay" commands again and once again she's up and following me from the first step I take. The strange thing is the absolute opposite is the case with "Come". Cleo plants her bottom on the ground and refuses to budge, especially if there is an open gate between us. Her laughing face and enthusiastic greeting when I go to grab her collar are to show me there's no hard feelings, then she drops to the ground (as I mentioned, another command she doesn't get when asked to do so) and has to be dragged through the gate so I can close it and get on with my day.  She doesn't even have the good grace to stand up while I'm getting her through the gate.  She just sort of crawls along and pops up on the other side of the gate to lick me and tell me that was a good game and can we do it again please?  Of course training with someone to help would be the answer to the problems I've described, but Graeme is out on the farm all day and only gets back to the house late in the afternoon - not the best time for either Graeme or Cleo to participate in a training session.
 
Most of our training - while the ground is too damp for walks being towed by an enthusiastic pup - are conducted in the back yard after I put the ferrets out for the day.  Cleo is always available for escorting the ferrets to their cage and after she has had the opportunity to commune with them for a little while training begins.  Cleo is very keen to get the treats, but not keen to obey commands to get them.  She's more inclined to just snuggle up and push at the hand holding the treats.  Holding that hand above my head is not to be even considered.  Cleo is already big enough to reach up to my raised hand and that means she needs something to lean against.  The only thing close enough to use is me and you can imagine the consequences of Cleo leaning against me while I'm standing there with one hand raised above my head.  Commands of "Sit!  Sit!  Sit!!" only get the response from Cleo, "In a second, I'm a bit busy at the moment," and over I usually go.  I've tried putting the treat in my pocket, but Cleo's nose knows where to find them.  I'm now trying treatless training so that Cleo is more focused on the lesson than the reward.  Cleo is unimpressed.

Another bone of contention (if you'll excuse the unintended pun) is when Cleo comes inside. Graeme has a no dogs on the carpet rule, and Cleo does her best to get around the rule.  Things start well.  Cleo comes inside and sits on the kitchen tiles and looks like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.  She even adopts the drop position and settles in.  The photo below shows the muddied floor from just the first visit today (remember we are having a lot of wet weather at the moment and towelling feet isn't enough with a large pup).

  By the time I've gone outside to get her blanket to lie on things have changed. 

And things just go downhill from there.  More and more bits of Cleo end up on the carpet, until nearly the whole dog is ensconced on the carpet with a look on her face that says, "I know you love me and really want me in the loungeroom with you and not here in the kitchen."  After a battle ranging from a few minutes to half an hour, depending on my patience at the time, Cleo ends up outside to think about her behaviour and to try again later.  Cleo has only managed to stay inside for a few hours twice.  We are still working on this behaviour, just as we are with all the other ones.

I've explained over and over again to Cleo that these are commands she has to learn if we are to take her away with us if we go away for a couple of days at any time.  We will be staying in caravan parks and her public behaviour has to be perfect or there will be trouble (for us, not Cleo).  Cleo just smiles and drools and rolls over for a tummy rub. She only discovered tummy rubs recently but she's hooked.

A Day In The Life Of Cleo

Cleo is continuing to grow like a weed.  This was taken a few weeks ago and she's now considerably larger again.  That bib will soon fit.  Cleo life is very full these days with lots of tasks to accomplish each day.  I'm sure she wonders how we managed before she arrived.  Cleo's day begins with her morning drink of milk and breakfast.  She's given a short time to digest this and explore the house yard in case something exciting has happened during the night that she didn't notice.  Then it's off to feed the lambs.  Cleo comes along on a lead and loves saying good morning to the bottle babies.  She rushes up to the fence and licks as many lambs that present themselves for said licking.  Most lambs are eager to front up to the fence in case Cleo has a bottle concealed about her person.  Once the lambs realise Cleo is bottle free and wander away the greetings are over and is Cleo is tied to a post outside the reach of the fence while Graeme and I feed the lambs.  We used to let her sit closer to the fence but soon discovered Cleo wanted to be personally involved in the feeding.  She climbed the fence and tried to join us in the little feeding area, despite being tied up to a post.  Cleo is happy to sit back and watch now, even finding it all a bit boring and takes the time to lie down and rest while she keeps watch on the lamb feeding.

Once the lambs are fed, it's back to the house.  Cleo is off the lead and looking for one of her squeaky toys as soon as she's past the gate.  Once a toy is acquired I'm invited to a game of tug of war.  We play for a while with Cleo toning down her strength to accommodate for a weakling like me.  Dad is a much worthier opponent but he doesn't get to play until later these days.  Cleo is a very good tug of war opponent.  She plays with the grandchildren when they visit and has never pulled one of them over even though some of her challengers are very small.  Cleo fits her tug to suit the size and strength of the human on the other end of the toy.

Cleo's next job is to do a tour of the garden with me and help me pull weeds or plant out any new plants or rooted cuttings that need attention.  She is a very "helpful" pup at these times.  As soon as I begin to dig a hole Cleo plants her bottom on the spot and smiles at me with all the assurance of a dog who knows she's an invaluable help.   For a short while I was able to trick her by beginning to dig a hole a few feet to the right or left of where I actually wanted the hole and as soon as Cleo plonked down in the hole I quickly dug the real one.  Sadly Cleo was soon on to me and while she still sat in the first hole it was like there was a little spring in her rear end because she'd bounce up and settle down in the real hole in nothing flat.  I now lock her in the laundry with a pork chew (Cleo loves pork chews) if I have a lot of planting to do, or put up with the "help" if I only have a couple of holes to dig. If it's a watering day Cleo has even more to do.  She cannot resist water coming out of the hose and gallops around me to get at the water from different angles to position her mouth so she can gulp down the water.  I'm trying to dissuade this behaviour because Cleo doesn't know when to stop and will make herself sick if I don't once again lock her in the laundry.

After the morning gardening session we are off for our walk.  At the moment our walk is about a 2km round trip to the top of the hill towards the front of our property (for those new to this blog we live on 1,000 acres with lots of places for a puppy to explore if she's on a lead).  Cleo is always very excited to go on these expotitions as Winnie the Pooh would say and makes my 2km walk a real work out.  She's very good and just gives any sheep or lambs a nod of acknowledgement as she passes by without showing any inclination to chase them.  Yesterday I let her off the lead once we were well and truly clear of sheep and started training her to come when called.  Cleo isn't learning "Come" as quickly as I'd like - read Cleo is refusing to learn to come at all.  She did very well yesterday until she decided it was a great game and ran towards me very enthusiastically and knocked me sideways.   I have a back injury and being knocked sideways meant that walking back home was slow and painful after that.  Naturally I suspended lessons and hobbled home, cursing myself for forgetting to take my mobile phone with me to call for help.  Graeme finally missed me and came looking for me thankfully, but I was almost home by then with a very tired Cleo at my side.  While I might have been making slow progress, Cleo, who was still off the lead found lots to bound over to and explore before rushing back to make sure I hadn't disappeared.

After our walk Cleo has personal time while I go inside to do the housework and quilting, recovering from being knocked sideways or whatever.  She usually lies on the back porch with her bottom up against the screen door and goes to sleep.  I firmly believe this is a strategic position so that she's instantly aware of any comings or goings of her family.  She keeps a squeaky toy close by in case someone comes out for a quick game.

After her nap it's time to go find Dad and see what he's up to.  Cleo is aware that she's neglected Graeme for most of the morning and as he's her favourite squeaky toy game partner she has to keep in his good books - so it's time to make herself useful around the farm.  Cleo's "useful" behaviour involves following Graeme from job to job wagging her tail furiously in a show of farmer solidarity.  She pitches in and helps whenever she finds Graeme prone under a piece of farm machinery and isn't above drooling on him to add that St Bernard touch of approval.  Occasionally Cleo forgets herself and, in an effort to be even more "useful", steps on Graeme while he's lying under some huge piece of machinery.  She is then told in no uncertain terms to "Go Home!"  When Dad gets like this there is nothing to be done but to go home and sit on the back porch to wait to greet him when he comes inside.  Cleo always makes sure one of her squeaky toys is left at the gate so Graeme can pick it up and come play with her when he gets back to the house yard.

With the advent of the new ferrets Cleo has a new task to add to her day.  She feels it incumbent on her to check the ferrets every hour or so, going up to the cage and walking under it, licking any ferret tummy or feet available through the mesh floor.  The ferrets sometimes move on to the mesh for this doggy greeting and sometimes are so over doggy greetings that they retreat to the safety of their bedding where no tongues, no matter how big, can reach.

By the time the afternoon has rolled around Cleo is ready to help collect the eggs.  As I head off to the chook pen with scraps in hand, Cleo bounds down to alert the chooks of the impending raid.  She then waits at the gate while I open it, but learned as a pup not to go into the chook yard.  I didn't teach her this rule, the chooks did.  When, as a pup, Cleo bounded into the chook yard ready to make some fluffy friends the chooks ganged up on her and pecked her nose every time she presented herself as a new buddy.  It didn't take many such pecks to convince Cleo that the outside of the chook yard was the place  for a St Bernard to be.  Once I'm inside Cleo positions herself at the side of the yard close to the wire ready to share the scraps.  Her favourite is stale bread.  I sit on the horizontal post at the opening of the chook shed and scatter pieces of bread to the chooks, with the fox survivor sitting on my lap eating the bread without competition.   I pass lumps of the bread through the wire from time to time and Cleo happily chomps on her share.

We also visit the galahs to check their food and clean their water bowl.  Cleo keeps a good distance from the aviary ever since the day she bounded through the wire at the side of the cage and found herself inside with two furious birds.   She couldn't get out the way she'd come in because the wire was bent inwards and far to sharp to push again.  All Cleo could do was sit down and try to look like an innocent, bird loving dog until we noticed he there when we looked out the kitchen window.  Once the galahs are fed, and Cleo tries to smile reassuringly at them despite the fact that Hedwig and Hermes are severely prejudiced against St Bernards, we head back to the house.  Cleo then gets and egg in her bowl as a thank you for her invaluable assistance and a drink of milk to wash it down.

The only other task for the day is to help bring the ferrets inside.  This happens around dusk as the night get a bit chilly.  Cleo likes to bound around ferrets and me as we head inside. She runs circuits around the garden (except where I've put up puppy blocks to protect my plants) and is back in front of us long before we make the back steps.  This slow progress is due in some part to Loki and Pandora who don't yet know how to sit on my shoulders for the trip inside.  I usually have my hands full of something else, like a few items from the clothes line, or a plant pot or something so, while trying to reduce my trips outside at night and bring the ferrets in, travelling on my shoulders to free my hands is something I'd like them to learn.  At the moment I can't bring other things inside because I'm too busy catching falling ferrets.  Cleo seems to be front and centre as soon as one or other or both ferrets slide south.  Cleo is more than happy to try and catch any ferret in reach and I'm desperate to do without  her help so I've got rather good at ferret juggling. 

After this exciting last task for the day Cleo settles down for a well earned sleep, but just lately she's noticed that sparrows nest in our ancient pine tree in the chook yard.  They have roosted there for as long as we've been here, but it's just come to Cleo's attention.  For some reason she's taken exception to their presence and spends a good while barking at them to be quiet!  Cleo's bark is developing nicely and has almost reached sonic boom decibels so she's able to drown out the noisy sparrows as they flutter their wings and settle on their branches.  Once silence in the pine tree has been achieved Cleo retires to her bed in the laundry and only comes out if Graeme or I go outside for some reason.  Once we are thoroughly licked and told how long it's been since she saw us last Cleo returns to her bed and sleeps the sleep of a puppy who has had a very busy day.

Lambing And Other Joys In Life

I haven't written for a while because I've had a some sad events in my life lately - one after the other and haven't found much to laugh about.  I try to write only humorous stories as I prefer to look to the positives, so no stories have occurred to me.  I'm sure the menagerie were up to their usual hijinks, but the humour just seemed to pass me by.

Yesterday a friend wrote and asked me to keep posting because she missed reading about my life.  I wrote back to explain why there had been no posts only to find that there was humour all around me if I only took my own advice and concentrated on the positive.

Cleo is growing like a weed and is quite a character so it's more than likely that once I come out of my funk I'll see lots of things to write about.  She adds joy to my day every day.  She has a toy squeaky witch (well two identical witches and one new one in the cupboard in case of lost witch emergencies).  The witches go everywhere with her and I am forever scouring the houseyard trying to find where she's left them this time.  Cleo tries to entice Graeme outside each morning by squeaking her witch for as long and as loudly as she can.  She's trained Graeme to come outside at the sound of the squeaking and play their game of who has control of the witch.  This goes on for a while, usually until Cleo gets greedy and tries to grab the spare witch while holding on to the witch in play.  She then seems to lose both witches and Graeme wins.  I've never actually been able to watch one of these games because if I come into view Cleo stops playing to come and give me the score so far.  I keep out of sight so Graeme can continue to bond with Cleo who has him wrapped around her large furry paw.

An old photo of Cleo and her witch.  She's a lot bigger now - the witch remains the same size.

Cleo enjoys accompanying me around the yard, and farm if she's allowed out the gate, her biggest problem with this activity is that Cleo likes to take the lead but isn't entirely sure where we are going so she needs to keep looking back to check I'm still on track and also it seems to encourage me to keep up.  She does this by furiously wagging her back end while turned in a pretzel shape.  Inevitably this causes her to run into things.  I'd never realised how full of hard objects my yard and larger farm contains!  My progress is filled with calling out, "Watch out!!" or "Cleo!  The wall (or rock, or bird bath, or fence, or on one memorable occasion, the house!).  Cleo just bounces off whatever obstacle she's encountered, gives me an accusing look, like I deliberately put the house there for her to run into and continues on her way, still in the pretzel/back end wagging position.

Cleo's other peculiarity is her inability to deal with steps.  She manages to dramatically trip up or down the stairs nearly ever time she leaves or comes back to the back porch.  I've tried to analyse her technique to see where she goes wrong, but it just seems like she doesn't recognise the need to actually go up or come down the steps.  She either falls off from the top or runs into the steps and stumbles up them.  I live in dread that she's going to seriously hurt herself, but at the moment, Cleo seems to thing that face planting on steps is the accepted means of navigating them.  Who knew some St Bernard pups require remedial lessons in ascending/descending steps?

We have almost finished lambing - only one ewe left to lamb.  She is going for the record in being overdue.  Actually she officially broke the record last night, so hopefully she'll pop today.  I visit her a couple of times each day when I go up to the shed to feed the lambs.  I try not to encourage her to get on with things - I remember the feeling of being overdue when pregnant and everyone commenting, "Haven't you had that baby yet?"  I just sympathise with her and tell her she's still beautiful (despite the round belly I never mention).  I know she's just as eager as we are for her to pop.  All the other ewes are either out in the paddock with their lambs or in nearby pens showing off their new babies.  Life for a way overdue ewe is no picnic.

31st March Update.

The last ewe finally popped and boy was it worth waiting for! She had the longest pregnancy on the farm ever!  No wonder.  The lamb is the biggest lamb we've ever produced (or as the mother insists that she's produced!).  His birth was no fuss and his mum produced him without any trouble.  She's amazing (as I've told her a couple of times) He has all the makings of spectacular.  He is our highest ranking ram lamb in LambPlan. 
 
Here he is - remember this lamb is less than 24 hours old.

We have a total of 9 bottle babies this year with the possibility of another two who aren't doing as well as we'd like.  All the bottle babies so far are the smallest  lamb in sets of triplets.  We had a record number of triplets this year and decided to keep back one from each set to allow the other two to be raised by their mothers while we bottle fed one.  This will allow the two out with their mums to grow a lot better and of course the little ones kept back by us will do better than they would in the paddock as well.  We've found in past years that triplets are just problematic out in the paddocks.  Mums have trouble keeping track of all three and often one just falls by the way and is either found starving and weak or dead.  If Mum raises all three they are all a lot smaller than the rest of the lamb flock because mum's milk has had to go three ways instead of one or two.  Most of the bottle babies agree with our plan and tuck into the bottle with gusto.  Two little ewes (all the ones kept back bar one ended up being ewe lambs), object to being kidnapped and give us as much trouble as they can - running around the pen, hopping through the fence baaing for help and asking the other ewes to cal the police - that sort of thing.  Graeme and I could try out for rugby league teams by now I think.  We are expert tacklers and are getting quite fit dashing around the pen trying to corral two non co-oerative lambs. They still gobble the milk when we finally catch them, but they make sure we know they only do so because they are being forced to.
  

                                                 One of the bottle babies who doesn't need catching to feed.
The last set of triplets to be born are still with their mum in the lambing shed.  She's a bit of a dozy ewe and managed to step on two of her three lambs at various times, leaving the little ones with a limp.  No bones broken thankfully, but with the limp they may have trouble keeping up with their mum in the paddock, and as she's a bit of a vague one, I wouldn't put it past her to wander off and forget she had little ones lost somewhere in the paddock.  So, she's staying in until the lambs are walking normally again.  This is a problem in itself as it turns out the mum was a bottle baby.  How do we know this?  The hard way I assure you!  I took the bottle into the pen to give the smallest one (the one targeted for later kidnapping) a top up of milk.  I had her on my lap trying to convince her that a rubber teat was almost as good as mum's softer, more personal one when the mum under discussion came over to investigate.  She took one look at the bottle and something clicked in her somewhat befuddled mind.  After that I had to try to fend off a very determined ewe who had regressed to her days of fighting other lambs for her share of a bottle.  The fact that the lamb she was now trying to dislodge from the teat was her very own didn't occur to her.  She was a lamb again and getting her share of the milk was her first priority.  Let me tell you, holding on to a three day old lamb who is reluctant to drink from a rubber teat while fending off a fully grown, determined, if lacking in even average sheep intelligence ewe who is just as determined to drink, is not to be recommended.  There were occasions where the ewe won and managed to get the teat into her mouth.  While I struggled to wrest it from her mouth and at the same time keep hold of a struggling lamb, she sucked for all she was worth and boy, could she scoop up the milk.  Once I tore the teat from her mouth and restored order to the lambs who were all gathered around mum learning bad lessons in what is and isn't appropriate sheep behaviour I took the better part of valour and retreated to the other side of the fence with the lamb I still had control over.  From this protected spot I once again tried to convince the lamb to have a drink from the now rather slimy rubber teat.  Mum stuck her head through the bars of the pen and tried to demonstrate to her lamb,once again, just how nummy the contents of the bottle were.  The lamb remained unconvinced.

The beauty of all this is I have it to do all over again three times a day.  Ah, the joys of bottle feeding lambs.

A Cleopatra Progress Report

I thought you might like to see how Cleo is doing.  She's growing like a weed.  Each week we take a photo of her next to her feed bowl so we can see how much she's grown.  It's hard to believe we've only had her four weeks.  She's growing at an incredible rate.  I think I've mentioned that Cleo is my third St Bernard, but my first pup.  Billy and Athena were full grown when I got them so watching Cleo shoot up almost daily is amazing.

Cleo has settled in happily and is trying her best to make friends with the menagerie.  So far she has only won over the ferrets.  The cats all refuse to be polite and despite Cleo lying down near them and wagging her tail furiously all she gets for her trouble is a hiss and sometimes a scratched nose.  This hasn't put Cleo off though. She has hopes of living in peace and friendship with the cats.  

The galahs are another matter.  They are very scary when they raise their wings and screech at her so she gives them a wide berth.  The chooks are OK, but a pecked nose is no fun either so Cleo is content to sit outside the chook pen while I collect the eggs and watch the chooks from the safety of the other side of the wire.  Sheep we just won't talk about.  They are altogether just too big and too scary.   Cleo has met Teddy once and they touched noses in a polite way, but as Teddy insists on living out the back of the property and only coming near the house for a drink from the dam, Teddy and Cleo don't get much socialising time together.

The other great conquest is Graeme.  Cleo has him wrapped around one furry little paw.  Every morning as soon as Graeme gets up Cleo meets him at the back door with her witch.  This is a little dog toy that was left over from Halloween (you can see her in the third photo below) and I bought on sale.  The witch has a squeaker inside and Cleo and Graeme have a daily tussle in the back yard to see who can take possession of the witch and make her squeak.  Cleo usually wins.  

So all in all Cleo has quickly become part of the family and it feels like she's been here forever rather than just four weeks.  Stay tuned for further Cleo up dates.

Happy Christmas to All

Everyone at Sprint Rock is ready for Christmas.  The decorations are up, the cakes, puddings and fruit mince pies are made.  The ham is in the refrigerator ready to cook tomorrow and I've moved into my Christmas tee shirts and earrings.

The big news here is that Cleopatra has arrived.  We visited two friends' homes while we were so close to where they live.  Cleo soaked up the hugs and love, fell asleep soon after we arrived at our first friend's home for morning tea and didn't wake until it was time to go.  She was more awake for her visit to our second friend and, apart from disgracing herself on the carpet there she managed to win hearts wherever she went (she was even immediately forgiven for the carpet incident).   She had fun and experienced a lot of new things to see and taste (she tried a rose leaf but spat it out and decided that meat or bones were much better).  Cleo travelled the six hour trip home with a few stops, lots of sleeps and little fussing.  She had her blanket I'd sent the breeder with all her family's smells on them and found comfort in that whenever she started to fuss a bit.  We stopped at McDonald's for an early dinner and I bought a meat patty for her.  I'm afraid to say Cleo has become a McDonald's adict and can't get enough meat patties in her opinion.  I only fed her a quarter at a time with at least an hour in between and she gobbled each portion up and looked for more.  
The cats are less than impressed with the arrival of Cleo, the chooks confused each time she and I visit to collect the eggs.  They stand back and discuss the matter amongst themselves and Eros, the rooster, just waits for this ridiculous ball of fluff to start something.  She never does.  The most Cleo does is snag a piece of the food scraps thrown out for the chooks and hunkers down to have a chew.  She shows no interest in the chooks at all.

Cleo has tried to befriend the cats but they won't have anything to do with her.  They stand back on the other side of the barricade set up to keep Cleo on the kitchen floor and off the carpet (we don't want a repeat carpet incident here) and make rude comments about little St Bernard pups.  Cleo has learned to rise above it and dream of the day she's bigger than the cats.  I keep telling the cats that day is not far off and now is the time to forge a friendship where they have the upper paw.  I'm ignored as only a cat can ignore a human.

The shocking news is that a firm friendship is being forged between Cleo and the ferrets!  I know!  It's got to be breaking all sorts of laws of nature, but the fact is Cleo loves the ferrets and they are prepared to put all their negative St Bernard thoughts behind them and give the fluff ball a chance to redeem the breeds reputation.  Each morning I let the ferrets out of the inside cage before putting them out so they can have some Cleo time.  Cleo and the Gang of Three romp around the kitchen floor and have a great time playing together.  Today Cleo got a little rough and I had to intervene to save a ferret.  Why Jocie didn't just bite Cleo I  have no idea.  Perhaps she realises the fluff ball is only a baby and she was trying for that rare commodity, ferret patience.  What ever the reason, poor Jocie was coming off second best in the game.  I put out a couple of eggs that Cleo had helped collect yesterday for Cleo and the ferrets in an effort to calm the pup and get the friendship back on track.  It worked a treat.   Here is the evidence.  Jocie isn't in the photo but she did join in at the beginning then decided the opportunity for a cuddle with me was better than communal egg eating.

So, cats aside, the Christmas spirit is alive and well in the Spring Rock menagerie.   Graeme is tolerating it all as usual and knowing that "This too will pass".  The family arrives this afternoon with Justin and Savannah coming here for Christmas lunch tomorrow.  I love having them all here and enjoy just sitting back and watching all my kids joking and chatting with each other while the grandchildren play one and other.  Don't get me wrong though, I get very little sitting back and watching time.  My seven grandchildren don't believe an activity is complete unless I'm there in the thick of it too and love that more than anything.

From everyone here - the chooks and Eros, Teddy the horse, Hedwig and Hermes the galahs, Byron, Cecilia and Jocie  the ferrets, Tristan, Ambrosia and Nefertiti the cats, Cleo the baby St Bernard, all the ewes, lambs and rams, Graeme the poor fellow sharing a home with them all, and me - we hope you all have a wonderful Christmas surrounded by those you love and that you have a fantastic New Year.

Introducing Cleopatra

 Cleo was born one week ago today.  Here is a photo of her having breakfast with her siblings.  As you can see Mum has her paws full with this lot.  In case you can't identify each little body there are ten pups tucking in there.

Any why am I singling out just one of the ten gorgeous little blobs?  Cleo is mine!  I've put the deposit on her and will pick her up as soon as she is old enough or as soon as harvest is over - sometime around Christmas hopefully.

Cleo's first close up - aged four days old - with a sibling offering advice - "Make sure the camera gets your best angle."

A morning of drinking breakfast followed by a photo shoot is just exhausting.  Especially when your eyes aren't even open yet!!!

Spring Is Here

 It's been a while since I wrote anything about the Spring Rock Menagerie.  I just haven't felt like writing since the loss of my two gorgeous pups.  It's time to move on and get back to letting you all know what is happening here.

The three cats, Tristan, Ambrosia and Nefertiti are all well and enjoying life now that the weather is warming up.  Don't get me wrong, they enjoyed life during winter, but rarely left the immediate vicinity of the heater or their snuggle beds in the bathroom.  Tristan is going down rabbit holes again and returning home at night with his ears full of rabbit fleas.  Rabbit fleas are more like ticks than fleas in that they burrow in to his ears (they don't go to any other part of his body) and Graeme and I are able to remove them all by using tweezers.

The ferrets are well and enjoying their new hammock I made for them.  It's a hard life when you wear out your hammock.  They too are enjoying warmer weather and sunbathe - either in their hammock on lying on their sleeping bag on the cage floor.  I've pulled back the weather protection so the sun can get in and the ferrets are in heaven.  Life for them in the house is much as it always is - sleeping in their inside cage each night and having a run around the house after Graeme has left it, honouring the Graeme/Ferret Treaty of 2003.

Hedwig and Hermes, the galahs are getting into the whole Spring is the time for love mood and galah hormones are strong in the air.   They build and rebuild their nest on an almost daily basis.  It's never up to Hedwig's high standards so it's pulled apart despite Hermes' protests and work in begun once more.  Hedwig has taken a severe dislike to my pink garden clogs and attacks them every time I go in to feed them.  She still loves the rest of me so I think she thinks the clogs are another female galah come to steal her mate from her.

We've had some major drama in the chook pen.  A fox visited late one night last week.  Thankfully I was awake and went out to deal with the matter.  I couldn't see because I didn't think to take a torch with me in my mad dash for the chookpen, but Graeme, the more clear thinking of the two of us, arrived with not one, but two torches for us shortly after I scared the fox off.  The fox had caught one of the girls but she was only injured.  I placed her in the nesting box for the night and checked her out in the light of day.  I think she'll make it.  She's the boss hen and loves to sit on my lap when I feed the chooks.  From that vantage point she lords it over the lesser hens while she nibbles on whatever offering I've brought the chooks that day.

Once the chooks were calmed down that night, I lectured the girls on the advisability of sleeping in the protected nesting box instead of over near the gate but sadly one of the girls didn't listen and the fox came back later that night.  He/she dug under the gate (the only unreinforced area of the chookpen) and grabbed the hen who liked to sleep there.  We've now placed bricks under the gate opening and the fox can no longer find a way in through there.  We know this because he/she came back the next night with thoughts of another easy chook dinner on its mind and after scratching around trying to dig under the bricks, gave up and went off to find some other sort of dinner.

I take advantage of the milder weather most days and let the chooks out for a scratch around the yard.  I sit on my garden seat under the old apricot tree and guard my gardens from marauding chooks in search of worms. I place the injured hen near my seat on the best bit of chickweed and she and I pass the time of day while the other girls and Eros forage for treats.  Eros, ever the protector of his girls, never eats a tasty treat he finds.  He makes a little "brook, brook" noise and the girls come running from all points of the compass to devour whatever it is he's found for them to devour. 

Spring also means our Blue Wren family are out and about.  This morning was the first time I've seen the new crop of babies out and about with mum and dad.  Three babies were hopping around under the protective eyes of both parents this morning, tasting the delights of the mulch heap, the spring grasses and generally enjoying life out and about on a fine Spring morning.

I never have my camera with me when I see the Blue Wren or his family so I've turned to Google to find some photos of other Blue Wrens for you all.

Male Blue Wren
 http://www.listeningearth.com/blog/what-is-in-a-song-birdsong-slowed-down

Female Blue Wren (should I call her a Blue Wren when she's not blue?)   
https://open.abc.net.au/projects/snapped-your-best-66ol2em/contributions/blue-wren-hen-65cs1kg

We first met the male Blue Wren a few years back when he moved into our garden.  The first year he seemed to be all by himself.  We didn't see any signs of little brown mates for him.  The next Spring we noticed he had a mate and before long a family to show off to us.  He adopted us as his family that first year and now most mornings he arrives at the kitchen window to say hello.  He taps on the window and flutter about while we exchanged morning news.  If he doesn't find us at the kitchen window he'd fly to the lounge room or family room windows to check on our whereabouts.  It drives the cats mad.  Only the male is brave enough to come close while we are near the windows.  One year his son seemed to be building up confidence to come look at us too, but once his blue colours came in he left the area in search of his own mate I suppose.

The little male follows Graeme around the farm yard near the house and just likes to know what's going on.  If I am out in the garden and near the wormwood bush they call home he and his mate take up spots on the lilac shrubs where they can see what I'm doing.  The male is brave enough to get quite close, but his more timid mate fusses and worries so much he soon returns to her.

He's a good husband and father.  I've noticed that each morning he flies out of the wormwood and lands on our tall potted jade plant in the front garden.  He sits at the top and waits.  Next his mate appears and flies down to the garden and has breakfast while the little boy stands guard.  When she's finished and returned to the wormwood and her babies, the male Blue Wren then has his breakfast.

Last year there was a minor skirmish for the ownership of the wormwood bush.  It seems to be a prime piece of real estate as far as small birds are concerned.  It's very dense and covers a large area of our front fence, so whoever owns the title deeds to the bush has a commanding view of the front garden.  A Willy Wag Tail moved in and tried to take over the ownership of the wormwood.  At first the little male stood up to him all by himself and I was worried he was outgunned.  The Wag Tail was a larger bird and the Blue Wren looked to be fighting above his weight.  I was just about to go out there and explain the rights of ownership to the Wag Tail when the Blue Wren's family came out of the bush and lined up on the fence against the Wag Tail.  It was a short, noisy battle after that and the Wag Tail conceded defeat and went off in search of an easier won home.  There are other wormwood bushes in the garden so I wasn't worried about him finding shelter elsewhere.

 

Willy Wag Tail   
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rhipidura_leucophrys_-Canberra,_Australia-8.jpg  

 Spring is a great time of year at Spring Rock. The canola is in flower, my garden is starting to look more like a garden and less like a wasteland and my menagerie goes a little do-lally with the warmer weather and spring induced hormones.