We'll See What We Can See

This year for our anniversary gift, The Handsome One and I got ourselves a nifty pair of binoculars. 

Now, instead of imagining what things in the distance look like, we can actually see what they look like.

Yes, we'll see the white of their tails and the whites of their eyes!

We got a simple pair of binoculars; point and shoot, so to speak.  The owners manual that came with the binoculars offered helpful advice (in two languages and with pictures).  For example:  don't drop the binoculars, don't look into the sun. 

Clearly, things are looking up.

Happy Thanksgiving

Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!

-Psalm 133.1  

Worries on the Line

Duck keepers are always concerned about duck safety.  Some things you can't control, some you can, some you hope for the best.

Ducks love to thrust their beaks into the dirt and hunt for bugs and worms.  I don't worry much about stale worms or even how the ducks are trashing the lawn.  I do worry about predators.  Fences keep the ducks from wandering into the tall grass or woods to be taken out by a fisher or fox.  Locking them in a sturdy house at night keeps the raccoons and other nocturnal riffraff from getting to them.

Sounds good.  But what about danger from above?  The house keeps owls away at night but what about diurnal birds of prey?

I've tried netting.  It's the stuff you use over blue berry bushes to keep the birds from eating all the berries.  Trouble is, the netting twisted and tore every time it had to be moved.  Then I read (I think in Grit magazine) something that an old chicken farmer has been using for years. He runs a few strands of fishing line from the bird house to the fence in a sort of  sliced pie configuration.  The theory is that raptors, with their keen eyesight, see the strands and avoid them.

Dipping into my tackle box, I rigged up a multi line gizmo and set it up. 

I worry though.  How do we know if it works?

Henry vs The Itch

Poor Henry.  It's not easy being a small dog in a big dog household. As if that wasn't enough of a load for his scrawny shoulders to bear, a few weeks ago, Henry got itchy.

 At first we thought it was seasonal allergies.  Alas, his symptoms did not abate when the crud in the air changed from ragweed to leaf mold.  Hoping to ease his tender skin, Henry was given organic non soap free range rosemary baths.  (The little weirdo is probably allergic to rosemary.)  This bath protocol had no effect.  Next we tried a soothing oatmeal bath.  All that effort gained us nothing more than a clean Pomeranian.

Half of a child's dose of generic benadryl seemed to help a little.

Then, dandruff appeared.

We got serious: coal tar shampoo.

There does seem to be a reduction in both the itching and the dandruff.

In other good news, there is a decidedly positive side effect of coal tar.  Henry has never smelled more manly.

How about a Side of Whooping Cough with That?

It was a brisk fall day.  Perfect for a trip to the tractor store, the bank and Menards.  Since we went rural, errands require a bit more travel.  The Handsome One was at large so he came along for the ride, promising to buy me lunch.

Every item on my to-do list checked off, we headed into town (till we went rural we never used expressions like go "into town") and stopped at one of our favorite restaurants.  It's a quaint place with dark paneled walls,  a well worn long metal foot rest bolted to the bar, a rough wood floor and behind the bar a large number of hooks holding mugs marked with numbers drawn on the bottom- for the regulars.

There were no other customers in the joint.  We sat a table and began to study the craft beer selections written on a chalk board attached to the wall.  I picked out an IPA, THO picked out a dark something or other.  We ordered some food and settled in for a relaxing lunch.

A couple with two small children appeared.  For some unfathomable reason, out of the some ten empty tables available, they chose the one right next to ours.  "How are you?" we heard the waitress ask them.  "We're having lunch in a bar," said the woman.  "That tells you what kind of day we're having."

The younger child was strapped into a high chair.  Periodically she would wave at me and squeal, "hi!"  My firm policy is that one "hi" is enough.  This didn't stop her from continuing to greet me.  The other child was a few years older.  He fingered an electronic gadget and declared repeatedly that he wanted "a big sandwich".

Both youngsters coughed frequently and at times, violently.  The adults ordered drinks containing vodka for them, apple juice for the children.  The woman told the waitress that the boy wasn't in school because he has strep throat.

It's hard to enjoy your meal when you are certain that there is bacteria laden spittle floating around.  Well.  The nachos were good.  Heavy on the jalapenos.  I hear jalapenos have anti bacterial qualities.