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.

So Sad

It's been four weeks now and this post is still difficult to write.

Four weeks ago both my beautiful dogs died.  I can't go into the details without bursting into tears again - it's enough to say they are gone and my heart is broken.

I miss my beautiful girls and still find going out the back door difficult.  It feels empty on the back porch without my dogs to greet me and wait somewhat impatiently for me to give them pats and/or belly rubs.  Visiting the toilet unaccompanied hasn't happened to me since we moved here sixteen and a half years ago.  Now I just feel lonely while I'm in there.  I no longer like to wander around my garden because I don't have my furry entourage with me, making suggestions for improvements (usually the need for more holes they'd be happy to dig for me) and smelling all the interesting smells.  

I miss their antics and their beautiful faces.  The look Athena would give me when she thought I'd lost the plot (usually when I tried to get her to fetch a ball or rowsed on her for some misdemeanour).  I miss Demeter's frenetic personality - always on the go and always into mischief.  I even miss the mess she'd create in the laundry each night if I forgot to hide the toilet paper before we went to bed.  The laundry floor stays clean and tidy and I hate it.  The dog blankets are clean and folded, sitting on top of the dryer - a constant reminder that they aren't in use anymore to provide a bed for tired dogs.  I wish I had room to store them out of sight.

I've put everything of the dogs' I can out of sight, but occasionally I'll come across a chewed bone or toy that was hidden away.  I can't bare to go near their little treasure troves where they stored any treat or plastic object they'd stolen.  They thought their treasure troves were such a secret and were always suprised when I went straight to them when looking for a lost item.  They'd rush after me and then fuss around their beloved possessions while trying to deny any responsibility for whatever I found there.  Our shoes always ended up there while both dogs assumed an air of innocence and denied all knowledge of how they'd got there.

They were so young and had so much potential.  They were already wonderful pets and time would only improve them even more.  They tried their best to please despite their tendency to break the rules.  When they did they were always very sorry.

I just want them back.

A Tale From My Childhood

I was admiring my teapot collection with my family when most of them visited on Mothers' Day last Sunday and my newest daughter in law Savannah hadn't met my prize possession in the collection - my snail teapot.  I told her I had a real love of snails when I was young and my mother bought this teapot, a creamer, sugar bowl and salt and pepper set, although only the snail teapot survived. I used to keep snails as "pets", putting grass and leaves in a cardboard box and collecting snails from the ever abundant source of the agapanthas hedge at the side of the house.  I'd often leave the top open so they had plenty of air or close part of the box up, but every morning my pets had scampered back to the agapanthas hoping like anything they'd be undisturbed from now on.  If they had any sense they would have moved to the very back of the plants where my little arms couldn't reach, but who knows if snails have any sense.  Savannah hadn't heard about this childhood love of snails so I realised she wouldn't have heard about my associated childhood sins where snails were concerned.  I thought I'd share the story with you too.

My grandfather was a prisoner of war during World War II and due to poor hygiene at the prison camp, later had to have his legs amputated.  He had one leg for a while and used crutches to get about. Although I was too young to clearly remember him at this stage very vague memories exist, but they are like old silent movie snippets - silent, grainy, short and disjointed.  He lived with us and was a keen gardener as much as his abilities allowed.  One of the things he could do was crush my beloved snails with his crutches.  As I say, I don't remember him or the following story.  I was regaled with it regularly in later years by my mother, who didn't get on well with my grandfather when he lived with us.  I sometimes think she bought the snail set more as a memento of my poor grandfather's torment by a snail loving granddaughter.

As the story goes my grandfather went on one of his snail eradication programs one morning, killing a number of poor innocent snails.  Whether I protested at the time is lost in history, but I can't imagine I just stood there and let it happen.  I was as great an animal lover from early childhood as I am today and I'm sure I would have tried to protect the beleaguered snails.  I do have a very faint memory of standing by my grandfather, who towered over me leaning on his crutches.  My little hands are on my hips and we are in the front yard near the bountiful agapanthus.  I am looking way up at him and having my say as he looks down at me. What was said between us is a mystery, but I was clearly not happy.  As my mother told the story, I was more than not happy and decided to take what revenge I could.

I must have been an enterprising little thing.  While my grandfather was sleeping I sneaked into his bedroom and stole his crutches left lying on the floor in easy reach.  I then hid them somewhere very clever for a small child, because no-one could find them.  I, of course, was the only likely suspect, and caved under interrogation.  The crutches were returned and my grandfather resumed his snail eradication program.

I obviously then settled down to give the problem some thought and the solution I came up with was diabolical.  I imagine my thought process went like this - my grandfather killed snails because he didn't understand what innocent creatures they were, not to mention what great pets they made.  How to get him and snails together on a social basis rather than a murdering one was probably a big stumbling block for me.  My solution?  The story that has come down through history is that I made my usual collection of a box full of snails, marched into my grandfather's bedroom when no-one was looking and filled his bed with snails.  I carefully pulled up the sheets and let things develop on their own accord.

My grandfather's reaction and subsequent retribution against me (and I'm sure there was some punishment attached just as there must have been after the crutches incident), are also lost to history.  My mother tended to gloss over that part of the story.  The punishment must have been effective though.  There are no further stories of my grandfather being harassed by one very small, very determined granddaughter.

Of course, soon after these events, my poor grandfather had his second leg amputated so his snail crushing days were over and I was left to fill my boxes with snails.  They were of course free to return to their lush green home in the agapanthus and make many more little snails for my future enjoyment.

Many years later I discovered my mother in law teaching a very young Rebecca to step on any snail she found.  I protested that we didn't kill snails.  My mother in law looked exasperated and said, "Well someone has to teach her!"  I decided not to argue - my mother in law wasn't the sort of woman where you could win an argument anyway, but once we got home I simply told Rebecca that snails had the right to live to and WE didn't kill snails in our family.  Rebecca nodded wisely and eschewed any further snail carnage.

The salt and pepper snails we used to have.  These ones are at http://www.sandyshores.net/

The lost creamer and sugar bowls also found at http://www.sandyshores.net/

Happy Birthday Athena

Last Thursday Athena turned one year old.  I made a big fuss of her, gave her a couple of extra Smackos (Athena and Demeter are seriously addicted to chicken Smackos) while singing Happy Birthday to her.  I know I'm no singer but Athena actually stopped eating to look at me.  She cocked her head to one side, lifted her ears and gave me a look that asked what I thought I was doing.  I offered another piece of Smackos as I finished the song and Athena decided her priority was scarfing down the treat no the dreadful noise I was making while feeding it to her.

Today is set aside for bath day.  Actually each day this week has been set aside as bath day and I've chickened out.  Athena has been swimming a number of times a day every day for a while now and her coat is looking less than pristine.  She upped the anti yesterday by rolling in something dreadful.  She took Demeter along with her, but Demeter seems to have only paddled around the edges (most likely with Athena rolling in it there wasn't enough room for her too), so Demeter is also scheduled for a bath. 

No photos I'm sorry.  I can't get the photo part of Blogger to work at the moment.  The page just won't load.