Harvey Henbanger - The Evolution of a Rooster

Harvey Henbanger

Harvey Henbanger has been introduced to you before.  He continues to fascinate me as he grows into his role as protector of the flock and provider for his small little harem.

Growing up, Harvey was always happy to play second fiddle to Uno, the more dominant rooster.  He let Uno do the hard work, watching over everything, crowing his dominance in reply to the neighbourhood roosters and generally making sure that all was well and stable in the group.  Harvey let Uno take on the stressful role, while he quietly hung around and had his way with the girls behind Uno's back.  It was a good life for him.

As he got a bit older, he started to challenge Uno and there were few chest bumping disputes, but Harvey would always back down (and quickly fornicated with a hen behind Uno's back...that'll teach him!).

Sadly we are only allowed one rooster on our property, so we had to say goodbye to one.  I had chosen to keep Harvey because a) he was a bit more laid back than Uno, and hopefully would never decide to challenge and attack me, and b) he was prettier (sorry Uno, but I had to find a way to pick!).  Fortunately we found Uno a home at a place that is basically a rooster rescue refuge.  He got to keep his head and his life, and that made me happy. After all, Uno was a great rooster and it wasn't his fault.

Where are my girls?

The absence of Uno left a gaping hole in the leadership of the flock.  Not used to having to take charge, Harvey knew he had to step up, but it was clear that he didn't have a clue.  If he did, he didn't have the confidence to put it all into place.  The Evolution of Harvey Henbanger has been an enjoyable and entertaining time for me as he has finally blossomed into a pretty cool rooster.

At first, Harvey couldn't keep his girls together. I think they knew he wasn't a good leader, so they scattered around the yard, doing their own thing and ignoring him.  I was impressed at their ignoring skills as he raced from one end of the yard to the other, yellow legs pumping at full speed, wings held just slightly away from his body, and his comb and wattle flopping to and fro as he tried to figure out just how to get the girls to pay attention.  Sometimes in the middle of his travels, an airplane or helicopter would go overhead, and he set off after it in a completely different direction.  He certainly got his exercise.

Clearly the girls had little respect for him as he did his rooster dance, hoping for a bit of female affection.  They usually just walked away, pecking casually at the grass, looking completely disinterested.  Not that that stopped him, he'd still hop up on them when their backs were turned.  No one had ever discussed consent with him, I'm guessing.

Some of the girls even had the audacity to do the rooster dance around him, showing him who was really the boss.  Harvey just seemed a bit lost and confused and you could tell that he was not confident.

Hello neighbours!

As time as passed, he has figured things out and is a lovely and gentle leader.  As the hens emerge from whatever plant is the popular egg-laying spot for the week, singing the song of their people in a loud and might voice.  Harvey once again takes up his running at full speed, chasing the hen.  But this time it is to quickly jump on her and fertilise her again.  He knows that the hen has a fresh egg brewing in there and it must be claimed.

In the mornings when I take them scraps from the kitchen, he always picks up something that he considers particularly tasty, makes a lovely clucking sound, places it near one of the girls, and steps back as if to say 'Look at the lovely treat I have provided for you'.  He won't start eating until he has made sure that all of the girls are eating and looked after.  Truly a gentleman. 



He now takes command of the girls, and if there is a suspect noise, or he thinks there is a threat, he gathers them up, jumps up onto a rock or tree stump for a better perspective and makes sure that all is well and danger is averted. When the neighbourhood roosters crow, he crows back with confidence (even though he does have the worst crow I have ever heard....it's more of a screech.)

You call that a crow?



It's clear that even though he's not a year old yet, Harvey Henbanger is very confident of his job and his place in the world.  He has a gentle manner and I don't feel like he will challenge me. He must know that I admire his character, and I am quite proud of his progress.  Well done Harvey, may you have a long life filled with yummy treats and lots of girls to dance around.  Mummy thinks you are pretty cool! 

Who's a pretty boy?

 

 

 

Friday Follies - It's Great to be Grateful

Who doesn't love Winnie-the-Pooh?

Getting caught up in life's little annoyances and problems is unavoidable, but I think Winnie-the-Pooh had the right idea.  Gratitude can change everything.  We all fall into the trap of letting inconsequential hiccups cause much more grief than necessary. I know with myself, I can slide down this slippery-slope very easily and quickly.  As reflected in the lovely silver 'wisdom' hairs on my head, I'm much older now, and have learned that it's not worth the energy to let these things affect me more than they should. 

Sometimes when I'm just minding my own business, thankfulness for my life whacks me across the face like being slapped with a big, wet fish.  It's pretty hard to ignore.

Some things I'm grateful for....

- As I age, my body is changing in ways that I don't appreciate and quite frankly, horrify me.  But it all works (mostly) and I am grateful that I am mobile, semi-sane (matter of opinion) and reasonably healthy.

- People irritate the shit out of me in general and I don't have a very active social life (okay, that's not a negative - I'd be a hermit if I could), but I have many, many good friends that I know I can rely on.

- Although I may not have as many pets as I dream of, but I have changed the world for the pets that I do have and have had, and hope with all of my heart that I am giving them the best, most loved life possible.

- Work annoyances usually don't bother me, as it's just work.  This week I've had to have a stern talk with myself to remind me of the positives of my job. It has been a week of observing an overbearing bully attack most of the staff at one point or another.  All I can do is just quietly smile, remind myself that it doesn't matter, and am quietly satisfied that my life is a heck of a lot better than hers and she clearly has a very sad internal life.

- I have made some poor decisions in life (and I am VERY grateful that most of mine were made before social media....I dodged a bullet there!), and when I look back on some of mine, I can only cringe and push these memories back into the box in my mind that keeps them hidden away from sight.  I prefer to focus on some of my better decisions, such as moving to Australia to spend more time with my family. Not only have I enjoyed the company of my parents (yes, I actually like them and consider them my friends - don't tell that to my teenage self, she would never believe you in a million years) and I am happy that they are still in good health. Many others of the same age have increasingly declining health or are no longer with us.  My move to Australia also means that I no longer have to endure the torture of long, dark, bitterly cold winters, for which I am so, so thankful (did I mention that I was thankful?)!  The thought of never having to shovel a driveway again is a very nice thought indeed.

- And, of course, my decision to move halfway across the world meant that I met my ever-suffering husband, and we are still together and in what I consider (and hope he does to!) a solid, healthy and loving marriage.  We drive each other crazy sometimes and push each other's buttons, but we are a team, and a pretty good one at that.

My father gave me some advice at once when I was wallowing in the depths of despair and bemoaning my life (also known as being a 'drama queen' according to my dad) that I still use today and find incredibly useful at putting things into perspective.  "When something happens, think about how it will affect you.  Will it still matter 5 minutes from now, 5 days from now, 5 months from now or 5 years from now?  Give it the attention it deserves."  As soon as I remind myself of this, it becomes easier to let the small irritations go and remember that everyone is dealing with their own crap.  I'm pretty sure that none of these will be brought up at my funeral, so in the immortal words from Frozen, I'll let it go.

"Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings." William Arthur Ward

"Let us be grateful for people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom." Marcel Proust

Same, Same but Different - Dogs vs Men

In a previous blog post, I compared cats with peri-menopausal women.  It's only fair that I now point the finger at dogs and men.  For those overly-sensitive males out there, please don't take it to heart, it's just a bit of fun, even if it really is almost 100% true.





FARTING

Any list that starts with farting is a good list in my book.  I dare you to find me a man that isn't completely enchanted and beguiled by his own farts.  They seem to be so extraordinarily proud of what is a normal bodily function.  They have no shame.  And neither do dogs.  As an owner of two extra-large canines (plus a husband), our living room can get quite hazy with the fog of farts and flatulence that emit from the male orifices.  It can be quite noxious.  Anyone that has big dogs know that not only do their farts smell, they are loud.  Sometimes there is a cacophony of cheek-flappers assaulting my ears in the evening.  Men are also very proud of their loud flatulence, and usually give you a sly look to ensure that you noticed.  We notice men, we notice.

HUMPING

Dogs will hump almost anything - other dogs, cats, human legs.  Men won't hump anything, but.....

THREATENED BY THEIR OWN KIND

Dogs will approach a new dog with caution, making sure that the new dog is not a threat and won't upset their place in the world.  Men approach other men in the same way, circling each other like dogs but without the bum sniffing.  Thankfully, men, like dogs, usually make friends easily and all the posturing comes to nothing.

TERRITORIAL MARKING

Why is it that men get such a kick out of peeing everywhere but the toilet.  'Because they can' is the most appropriate reply (and as a female, yes, I do get a bit jealous of that).  Dogs love to mark out their territory with the cock of a leg and a squirt of urine, full of informative data for other dogs.  When we  have other dogs come to stay, it becomes a great game to pee over top of the other dog's pee, and it becomes this endless circle of  urination.  Same goes for a man peeing in the yard - the dogs, particularly Manu, cannot wait to pee in the same spot.

IF YOU GIVE THEM ATTENTION, THEY WILL FOLLOW YOU ANYWHERE

It doesn't take much - some subtle eye contact, a smile and a gentle touch and they are yours.

BOTH HAVE TO BE TRAINED

When you first get a puppy or a man, they are very excitable and burst with enthusiasm, but really don't know how to behave properly or what is socially acceptable behaviour.  With lots of work, love, encouragement and positive reinforcement, both can be trained. Up to a point.

FASCINATION WITH CROTCHES

I don't think I need to elaborate on this one.

At the end of the day, we couldn't live without either of these lovely creatures, could we?

 

 

 

 

 

Friday Follies - Working 9 to 5

Junior High School was definitely not a stellar time in my life.  I was awkward, desperate to fit in, had low self esteem, and embarrassed that I did well in school. (You've seen the pictures, you can see what I'm getting at....). I tried to make sure that I was not noticed by sitting in the middle / towards the back of class, didn't raise my hand to answer questions, and tried not to do too well on exams (while still doing well because I couldn't help myself).  I did have some good friends, and endeavoured to make people laugh so that they would like me, so I wasn't completely hopeless.  But I really didn't like to stand out or be noticed.  There was some bullying, but I had enough friends so that it wasn't debilitating...we'll call it 'character building' (thanks Dad!).

With this knowledge, you would think that certain school activities and assignments would cause me great anxiety.  They mostly did, but for some reason, if I had to get up at the front of the class and get a laugh, I was okay.

I can't remember if it was Grade 7 or 8, but in one of my classes we were given the assignment of creating and presenting an advertisement.   This could be presented in any way that we liked (picture boards, pamphlets, etc).  After much thought, I decided that my product was going to be a family car - practical and reliable.

With my thinking cap tightly on, I devised what approach I would take to this assignment.  It wasn't going to be a poster, or a pamphlet, or product packaging....boring! It was going to present a TV ad.  And not only was it an ad, it was an ad with a jingle (anyone even remotely acquainted with me will know that what I lack in singing talent, I make up for in volume.  Think Florence Foster Jenkins without the money or great outfits).

A school staple

The Dolly Parton movie '9 to 5' was released during this time - 1980 to be exact - and it became the source of my inspiration.  The theme song was very catchy and always on the radio, and if you are going to impersonate someone, Dolly Parton was pretty good material!  Not that I could do her voice justice, but again, volume people, volume.  I gathered together that age old staple of school - coloured construction paper - and created large black false eyelashes (I could barely hold my eyelids open), long talon-like red paper false nails, and of course, I stuffed some cushions into my sadly deficient décolletage.  Nothing screams Dolly like a buxom chest, especially in those days before the proliferation of breast enhancement surgery.  For the life of me, I have no idea what I did about the hair...more construction paper perhaps? 

There I was, adorned in true over-the-top country fashion, the centre of attention at the front of my class, all eyes upon me (some supportive, some sniggering, most having a giggle with me).  I began my ditty, sung to the tune of '9 to 5'.

"Working 9 to 5, I just really need this car,

It's the best thing for my whole happy family.

I use this car and it never gives me trouble,

It's so good that I really want another."

Okay, I only sung the chorus, but good effort I think.  There was more involved with my act, but that part of my memory really has left my grey matter for good.  But I can still remember that chorus, even though these days remembering exactly why I am in the kitchen is a challenge. 

I achieved my goal - I got applause, was awarded a good mark for the assignment and only humiliated myself a little bit in the pursuit of a laugh.  As it should be.

PS  I still like changing the lyrics to songs, and often use my pets as inspiration.  Purrkins has his own song, sung to the tune of 'Copacabana'.  I think my ever-suffering husband enjoys my renditions - at least that's what he tells me to my face - and he will continue to if he wants a happy marriage.

 

Mission Accomplished!

 

 

Homecomings

On Saturday we returned home from a week away camping.  We very fortunate to have friends that stayed at our place to look after all of our pets, which was absolutely wonderful. However, we did notice a difference in the dogs' reactions upon our arrival home compared to when the dogs have been kennelled.

Not a Mexican Jumping Bean, but a jumping Mr Bean.

Normally, if the dogs are in kennels, there is great (and I mean GREAT) excitement when we pick them up to bring them home.  They bounce around like Mexican Jumping Beans  (which is not an easy activity for our extra large pooches) and make overzealous attempts to lick our faces (as you know, Manu is a great 'recycler' and poo-eater, so face licking is a definite no-no in our house).  After all of the excitement, Chamois will settle down and rest, while still keeping her eyes on us and wagging her tail at the merest flicker of interest from us.  Manu's Klingon tendencies are even more exuberant, and you can't wipe the smile from his face.  Manu needs attention....and lots of it.

Getting spoiled...again.

When we have had someone stay at our house, it becomes quite apparent that they were thoroughly spoiled and not given much of a chance to miss us.  I've seen the photos and heard about Chamois sleeping on the bed during a thunderstorm to know this is true.  As we pulled into the yard on Saturday, we did get greeted, but it was only with the usual enthusiasm that we get at the end of a normal work day.  Granted, there was much tail-wagging (so much so that Chamois split open an old scab on her tail, and we were all swatted with the bloodied appendage, ending up with swipes of red across our legs, sides and along the doors of the truck), but the fervent welcome of other homecomings was missing.  At least they were happy to see us I guess.



Yippee! Mummy's home

As always, I can count on my cats for a warm welcome and vocal hello.  No matter if there is no one here or people staying to care for them, they still have the same level of excitement at my return.  This is not to blame the pet-sitters at all.  Anyone that knows cats knows that sometimes they are their own worst enemies, and tend not to get their cuddles from different people.  Fortunately Clawde managed to get cuddles situated himself on the lounge at night, just in petting distance, but good old Purrkins kept his distance.  I'm sure if he was without his beloved mother for more than a week, it would have been a different story.  He ensured that his carers were scent marked as he rubbed across their legs, but he kept his floppy lap cuddles to himself this time.

Purrkins was very vocal when we got home, as was Clawde, with his quiet 'silent' meow's, and both cats demanded lots of cuddles.  Purrkins assisted with the cleaning of the camper by walking all over everything, and Clawde just needed to be where we were.  There were many snuggles that night, and I slept with a cat on my head more than I didn't, continually being stabbed by happy feet and drooled upon with the squeakiest of purrs.

Fish That Won't Die
is still alive...



Gabby the Yabby - that's
as excited as he/she gets

Fortunately the reaction of Fish That Won't Die, Gabby the Yabby and all the chickens were consistent with our every day life - all they care about is getting fed and could care less if we are present or not.

Coming home to pets is a special kind of feeling - there are no recriminations for 'abandoning' them while we were off having a lovely time on vacation.  It's just pure love, living in the moment and being joyful for the time that we share together. 

I've never understood how people can live without pets - that is no life as far as I'm concerned.
 
 
 
 
 

Friday Follies - Is This The Inspiration I Need?

Warning, this is not my usual type of blog as I feel the need to rant.  Female issues are involved, so if you are squeamish, you should bail now.

I may be out of line, but I don't think it's appropriate to have inspirational life messages printed on the wrappers of my feminine hygiene products.  Period.  Ha ha.

Where's my pina colada?

To be told that I need to "find myself' or that "dreams happen" or that I should "care for those you love" or that I need to "be amazing" to "make it happen" is just wrong, wrong, wrong. Having the monthly puberty fairy visit me is not me at my best.  Personally, I would like to "find myself" on a tropical desert island with Channing Tatum holding a frosty glass of Pina Colada up to my thirsty, trembling lips.  Or perhaps to make the "dream happen" someone could tell me how I could possibly make a living out of cuddling cute little kittens with jellybean toes (the kitten's toes, not my toes of course).  I'm already amazing, so I'm not sure what that's about, but I can "make it happen" with more money, less days at work and a smaller bum.

Jelly Bean Toes

Clearly it's that time of the month

Which brings me to feminine product commercials and advertising.  I and my fellow uterus owners have used several of these products over the years, and while I have learned to ride a horse, ride a bike, play volleyball on the beach, etc., I am not proficient at these activities as promised by the experts.  However, I have never sky-dived and never wish to, but if I did, a panty liner may come in handy for obvious reasons, so I'll give the marketing gurus that one.  And no, I don't feel like going out dancing when Auntie Flo is knocking at my abdomen, so don't make it look like a good thing with those young actor girls prancing about in 4 inch heels and micro-minis.

As young girls we are told that we will blossom into womanhood in our teens.  Who the heck thought up that horrible analogy?  That implies that our menstrual cycle defines us as a woman, which therefore implies that once it inevitably (and happily) ends, we are no longer woman.  Do we blossom into non-womanhood at menopause, or does this amazing flower wither and die, rendering the rest of the plant useless, ugly and dead?  Well I don't think so. All of the women I know at this stage of life have great lives - travelling, enjoying grandchildren, doing things because they choose to, not because they have to.  And why do girls always have to have flower analogies?  I tried to think up a good truck analogy for periods but sadly I failed.  I blame a lack of wine.

If there are any marketing people out there, let's get real about feminine hygiene products.  If you feel that we need to spend our precious time reading the wrapping because we have nothing better to do with our lives, here are some suggestions:

Thanks Liam

"You are amazing, go eat more chocolate."

"Like wine, you improve with age.  Raise a glass in celebration. (it helps with cramps too)."

"I know you're feeling irritable, but please don't punch your husband in the face, he really does love you."

and

"This too, shall pass."

Oh what a fun adventure us chicks get to go on!  Good thing we drag the guys along for the ride.

PS.  I will be having a short hiatus from my blog while we go on holidays, but I'll be back at it in a week.

    

The Help That You Never Knew You Needed

To help means "to make it easier or possible for someone to do something by offering them one's services or resources".  That makes sense and it's a pretty straightforward concept.  Not one person can get through life without help, and we strive to help others in big and small ways every day.

We think of people helping people, but in our house, we get a lot of help from our non-person members of the family.  However, we must redefine their help slightly - "to make it harder and almost impossible for someone to do something by offering them one's mere presence".

Let's delve into this further with a few examples.


Rover

Rover was my first bird, gifted to me by my husband for my birthday.  She was a lovely baby cockatiel, still being hand-fed and very affectionate.  As she got older and reached maturity, she became VERY affectionate with her new life-partner, Shawn, but that's a story for another day.

A new decoration

Rover was allowed out of her cage for most of the day, and loved to explore.  This involved chewing books, chewing paper of any sort really, shitting on everything at every opportunity, and generally involving herself in our daily activities.  Rover liked to help Shawn in the shower by conserving water and having her bath with him.  Rover liked to help decorate the Christmas tree, and consequently ate some of the candy cane decorations, giving herself a beautiful lipstick coloured beak in the process.  Rover liked to help put together flat-pack furniture by standing EXACTLY where you needed to use your allen key.  Rover liked to help cook, and that almost got her boiled.  I don't think boiled cockatiel would make much of a meal.  Rover liked to help the cats eat their food, and would drive them away from their bowls with a hiss and a stern head-shake.  She was also helping them to lose weight.  Rover was a most helpful tiny bird and we loved her very much.

Manu

Please don't forget me!

Manu is a very helpful large dog.  Manu, as mentioned previously, is Shawn's number one Klingon.  Which means that Shawn gets help with everything - putting on socks and shoes being a particular favourite.  Shawn has now been driven to complete this task behind closed doors in the ensuite or walk in closet.  Manu likes to help his dad build the fire at night, proving that dodging big sloppy kisses helps with log placement, while tail wagging fans the flames.  Manu really, really likes to help pack for camping, by running backwards and forwards in front of you constantly, making sure that nothing is forgotten, most importantly himself. Manu likes to help bring in the groceries by sticking his big, wide, yellow, saggy skinned head into every bag, in case you forgot which one the meat was in.  Manu likes to help with cleaning, by eating his poo, Chamois' poo, cat poo and chicken poo.  And duck poo - he likes that too.



Purrkins helping Clawde with a supportive hug

Clawde and Purrkins

Clawde and Purrkins like to help by keeping the rodent population down, which we very much appreciate.  Clawde and Purrkins like to help me eat my dinner by stabbing at my legs with their weaponised feet until I drop them a tasty morsel.  Clawde and Purrkins like to keep me humble by reminding me that nothing I own will ever be completely free of cat fur.  Clawde and Purrkins like to help me stay warm in the winter with lots of kitten cuddles, which are equivalent to a nice soft hot water bottle.  Purrkins in particular likes to help with all things housework, his favourite being bed-making (see above point about cat fur).  Clawde and Purrkins like to help with our mental health by acting like complete idiots and making us laugh every day.

Chamois

Chamois never helps anyone - she's above all of that.
 

Don't know, don't care, rub my belly