Chick Chat

Some remarkable revelations have hatched 

since chickens became very much a part of the family. 

The chickens we had in Canada were friendly enough, 

but with ten of them confined to a small coup 

close personal relationships were rare 

 and it was hard to get a word in edgeways.

Now, with just the three chicks in spacious quarters 

our conversations have become quite pleasant.

No, I've not gone loopy. They definitely try for a rapport.

"Good morning" I say, and receive a welcoming and sincere  cluck or two. 

I crack a joke and there's an appreciative chuckle, or rather a cluckle.  

I hold open the  coup door and they trot out, 

each with a throaty murmur of thanks.

And, during the course of the morning, they stop by for a chat.

But apart from these communications the most surprising discovery 

is their attitude toward their sole role in life - egg laying.  

Internet information and previous experience led me to believe 

that a chick lays with solemn dignity about every 24 hours 

after a quiet period of maternal reflection in the nesting box.  

Tommyrot!   These chicks lay their eggs like they are bombs. 

On one occasion, in the middle of the berserk activity 

that accompanies feed time, one of them dashed back to the 

nesting boxes muttering with annoyance, gave a loud squawk, 

and then within seconds rushed out to join its sisters. 

Surenuff, on opening the hatch there was a brand new ova, 

still so warm it felt par-boiled. 

Another time the three were pleasantly plucking away on the lawn 

when one suddenly hoisted her skirts and shot off back to the coup. 

After a loud squawk of contentment she waddled back 

to resume her place in the pecking order. 

Another warm one in the nest.

As she past me, she gave me her beady eye and an amused cluckle, 

"That was a close call," she said.

Oui Oui!

I have achieved  wonderful results  

in the garden with my personal recycled liquids.

 It must be the urea content that kills chickweed, 

gets rid of algae brown spots and revives weak grass 

to a luxuriant green.

I’ve been thinking it’s a pity I can’t mass-produce 

the stuff and market it, then a photo caught my eye. 

It seems the Indians have already

started their own mass-production system, 

though in its infantile stage.

Maybe we can start a joint venture.

TOUGH CHICKS

My stalwart chickens get a well-deserved bowl 

of treaties after hauling

the new roof beam from the driveway.

While a mile inland many strong native trees 

such as the gajimaru (banyan trees) 

and the tough Australian pines 

perished in the wild typhoons of the last few years,

the row of satokibi's on the rocks below our wall 

and just yards from the raging sea withstood storm after storm.

And not just wind and waves but mountains of water 

crashing into them minute after minute, hour after hour, 

their only tenuous anchorage in the lava rock. 

Sadly, after last year's final super-typhoon 

it looked like they had relinquished the fight for survival -  

all that could be seen was a row of dead hulks, ready  to decay.

But then, amazingly, within the last few weeks,

 nature has shown us a minor miracle.  

I got that old spring feelin'

Big rock turtle

A marvellous sight at dawn on this morning's walkies.

Duke spotted it first, freezing him into his classic Pointer pose.

I followed his gaze and about fifty yards down the beach a big rock moved. 

Just slightly.   I blinked my crusty eyes, it was only just getting light.
Then the rock moved again.

A giant turtle was making its way back to sea after laying its eggs on the upper beach.  

We remained frozen to the spot absorbing the moment, 

myself - regretting not having brought the camera, 

Duke - nose twitching to identify the monster before him.

Progress was painfully slow, she must have been exhausted, 

first with the climb up to the steep bank, then the efforts of motherhood 

and now the crawl back through the thick sand. 

Each scrabble of her flippers moved the big body only a few inches.

We stood there for ten minutes while she heaved herself over the last three yards of sand.

When the first wavelet tickled her nose it gave her renewed vigour 

and, as the next large wave engulfed her upper body, she gave a last, 

massive lurch, slipped away into her element 

and swiftly became a shadow in the deep blue.

Aint nature wonderful!

I later went back and took this picture of the sight of her ordeal.

A Wee Wonder 

One of the biggest killers of a nice lawn is chickweed. 

It grows low  and deepin the grass and is impossible to pull out. 

Commercial anti-weed control is useless against chickweed, often killing the grass also.

After comprehensive non-laboratory scientific experiments 

I have found the solution. 

It is free, non-toxic, widely available, works fast and is environmentally friendly. 

AND it makes the grass grow better. 

Here is a section of lawn that was being infested with chickweed 

and has undergone this miracle treatment. 

No more chickweed, beautiful winter grass.

I can now supply it at ¥1000 per litre (please return the bottle).

For a mere ¥2000 get my pamphlet on how to make your own.

Well, it's happy hour and time to start production of a new batch.  

Cheers!