Delinquents In The High Sierras

So the other day I looked out my den window and noticed these two, being very pastoral and nibbling on the purple-flowering plant at the base of my mailbox.

Which is cool, because that plant is a volunteer that thrives on neglect, tough as nails and comes back on its own after winter. I have no worries and at any rate, I'm willing to give up a little foliage for the sake of our local deer. Up until about a week ago, these two were hanging out with a buck and two does, they'd roam up and down the street. Last time I amused myself giving my husband a play-by-play as they stood at the other end of our fence, very interested in our neighbor's truck--I kept saying they were gonna steal it and go joy riding.

But then...

One of them started eyeing my car! Criminy, those little juvenile deliquents are gonna boost my car!

Luckily, they decided against it--trucks are more butch, I guess--and continued on, no doubt looking for someone who had foolishly left their keys in the ignition.

But if the radio goes missing next week, I know who to blame.

A Long Time Ago...

 C'mon, sing along! You know the rest!

So...every year at this time, our little community has a parade & fair that celebrates life here in northern Nevada, called Carson Valley Days. I've posted pictures from the parades in years gone by. I love it, it's always pretty much homemade, hokey fun and VERY small-town. One way they raise money is to sell buttons--the idea being, that if you attend the fair WITHOUT a button, the roaming posse grabs you and you get tossed in fair jail for 15 minutes, on display so everyone can point & laugh. When you get out you have to cough up a buck for one of the buttons. It's all in good fun.

Every year the fair has a different theme, usually relating somehow to how great it is to live here (trying to distract everyone from the single-digit humidity, demonistic three-day windstorms and months of dry, freezing temps). The buttons are designed around that year's theme and carry the slogan.

This year's slogan is supposed to be, 'In A Valley Far, Far Away'.

Today we bought our buttons, and OH. MY. GOD.

I actually sucked in a breath and got lightheaded when I saw the sheer amount of copyright infringement going on here. It is literally a hat trick of infringement, a perfect trifecta: Disney, Lucas/Spielberg AND the Hildebrandt brothers, who created this artwork for the original poster (I'm a big fan of their work, and proudly own an original Star Wars poster with this artwork from 1977). And y'all know how keenly Disney pursues copyright infringement of ANY kind, right?

I'm sure someone thought, 'Meh, no one will care.' Oh, no. They care. This has 'Disaster' written all over it, in expensive ink flowing from the gold-plated pens of pricey lawyers.

I can't wait to see what happens.

Goodbye, Dusty

Sad times tonight--our dog, Dusty, left us to cross the Rainbow Bridge.

Dusty was a Schnocker--half Schnauzer, half Cocker Spaniel, that we adopted in September of 2012 as a 13th birthday present for our daughter. Depending on whether she was clipped or in her shaggy winter coat, she could look like a whole different dog. Here she is the day we adopted her:

We never knew her true age, but the vet estimated she was around 14-16 years old at the time of her death. The old lady had gone deaf and mostly blind over the last two years, but got around just fine. 

Over the years, Dusty sometimes didn't use her best judgement...

 

But she took the kid's toys and the silly things her humans did in stride. 

 

And she was only a water dog when SHE wanted to be one, thank you; and it was NOT during bath time.

But once bath time was over, was her happy self once more.

 

 Dusty fiercely defended her yard against all invaders.

 

...until she lost interest, even though the deer still wanted to play.

 

But eventually they gave up and left.

But recently Dusty had a vestigal stroke--and we knew her time was coming. She had recovered very well from the stroke, just as our vet thought she would, and was back to her usual self, outside of a slight head tilt.

Then Dusty stopped eating regularly over the last week, so we braced ourselves and made her as comfortable and happy as we could--she loved the canned dog food she ate in small amounts. She wasn't sick, just very, very old. Tonight Dusty took a turn for the worse and we knew it was time. The vet had us bring her over--they have a small, private grassy area behind their building, it has a bench under a tree where you can sit with your friend while they make their exit. The vet brought out a nice blanket for Dusty to rest on, and her departure was quick and quiet.

She was an an excellent dog, very sweet and we loved her. Her companion, our little (also aged) Chihuahua/Dachsund mix, Daphne, is clearly wondering where Dusty is; we'll show her extra attention and give her walks & goodies for the next week or so to help her adjust.

Good girl, Dusty...we'll miss you.

Almost Houseguests...

Part of the garden junk in the front yard includes a little faux-stone birdhouse, hung about a foot from our front door. It's meant to be solely decorative.

But House sparrows being how they  are, a pair of them has decided to move right in. We have to walk right under the thing every time we go out to the car, time will tell if they stick with it and actually hatch any chicks. At any rate, this particular pair seems to have an excessive fondness for dry grass.

The hen was in there and flew out as I was taking the pictures. She perched about six feet away, in my contorted redbud tree, and bitched me out something fierce.

Gonna have to have a talk with this pair about learning to work and play well with others.

Baby Chick Pix!

Well, after a rather grim start to Chickam this year--we discovered too late that either the new stuffed toy, the cardboard I'd used to make the brooder box--or both, had apparently been treated with some kind of chemicals. When the warmth from the heat lamp activated it, the chemicals created fumes, which in turn killed 5 chicks. I suspect that because of Covid or a change in the manufacturing process, chemicals toxic to the chicks were present. There was no odor or anything else that made us suspect anything different this year, and all of the source materials were the same as in years before.

Once we caught on, we ditched the brooder box and the stuffed toy. As of today, the chick deaths seem to have ceased. Out of 16 chicks that hatched, 10 made it (one pipped but then died before hatching, it's abdomen hadn't fully closed). And because we are suckers who cannot resist, a trip to the feed store after the hatch got us an additional 4 chicks! Some of the chicks are marked with either a colored leg band or a food color spot to make IDing who's who easier. There are two siblings in this hatch, Ouzo and Harvey.

So in order of first hatched to last, here are this year's chicks--as they get older, their parentage should become more clear, and I'll update any changes, here:

Kana - Kana was compelled to holler her head off during picture time. Mom possibly our Americanas hen Cheese, Daddy is Bobbie, the buff Brahma rooster.

Moosebaby - Another chick with Cheese for mom, Bobbie for dad, although our buff Brahma/Americaunas hen Pie might also be mom.

Taffy - (blue right leg band) Carrie our white mottle black Cochin/Belgian d'Uccle mix roo is dad, mom is one of our black bantam hens.

Octavius - (purple leg band) Carrie is daddy again, mom is likely one of our larger black hens.

Ouzo - a chick from one of the large, white eggs! Daddy is Bobbie, mom is most likely Boombox, our white Leghorn hen.

Saber - (blue food color spot on back & chest) Daddy possibly Milton, our tortoiseshell bantam Cochin/Belgian d'Uccle mix roo, mom maybe one of our red/brown bantam Cochin hens (Gumdrop, Paprika or Basil) or either of our buff bantam hens (Sophie or Uptown Bus).

Biscuit - (Green food color spot on chest & back) Daddy is Bobbie yet again (busy boy!), mom might be Tingle.

Sybil Disobediance - (blue left leg band) Going by Sybil's short shanks, Mom is Paprika, Gumdrop or Basil, daddy is Carrie or Bacon, our Belgian Danvers roo. Here, Sybil the block o' chicken strives to be a cube.

Harvey - (blue right leg band) Another chick from one of the big, white eggs. Mom is likely Boombox, daddy is Bobbie again.

Now for the four chicks from the feed store!

Jonesy - (two weeks old)  A buff Orpington, Jonesy is just old enough to be entering the 'scruffy' stage.

Spork - Spork is a Dominique chick, and quite the handful--friendly, curious and full of energy. The Head Hen of the batch!

Slick Charlie - a partridge Rock chick.

Nyx - A Midnight Majesty Marans chick (I've been calling her a Midnight Marauder tho, we'll see how that one fits!)

Chickam Candidates!

On March 13th we set 36 eggs in the incubator, and at 13 days in, I candled them. We had 26 eggs with embryos, with another 2 eggs with shells too dark to be sure.

Three days before hatch, we moved the eggs to the bottom of the incubator, crossed our fingers and waited!

Now to see what we get! I'm especially curious about the large, white eggs--possibly from our white Leghorn hen, Boombox.

I'm Almost Afraid To Look...

The snow has mostly melted away and the mud has relented enough for me to set foot outside, so off I trot to inspect the damage the blizzard did to our small chicken run.

As expected, the top is toast.

Bonus wild crow on the top of the coop acting as supervisor.

Chonk, the large white Brahma in the foreground and our Head Hen, disavows any knowledge of how this happened--and for once is blameless in breaking this particular thing.

The top was constructed of steel pipe. The weight of the snow bent it like it was nothing.

Luckily, we can reuse the hardware cloth and corner attachments. The additional bend at each corner was in this same pipe, and hopefully the two uprights will spring back into place once we take this part out...if not, we're gonna be doin' us some diggin', those things are anchored in cement about two feet underground!