NEW CHICKS IN BIRDLAND

URSA SURVEYS BIRDLAND

BIRDLAND IS SUNNY AND GREEN. The rain barrel is full and the little pond is fresh. A few weeks ago I dropped in a plastic bag with 12 feeder fish. You let the temperature equalize before you open the bag. That way the shock of cold water won't kill them. Later, when I tore open the plastic, the fish swam promptly under the leaves of the water lilies and now hang out in the roots of the cattails. They swim up to sun themselves, but they're shy yet. Soon they will learn to come out when I sprinkle fish food on the surface of the little pond, their mouths opening to nibble the flakes. On the edges the Day Lilies are bushy, and sending up stalks with little buds like the pods of squat green beans. The flat leaves of Ghost Lilies are drooping, yellowing. Soon they will fade back into the ground and we'll forget all about them. I almost did forget them in the hustle of new blossoms in the yard. 

MORNING COFFEE

BIG, SHOWY, EGGPLANT
COLORED BLOOMS

Sunny Daisies bounce in the wind. My grandmother's peonies open their generous blossoms, each almost a bouquet in itself, perfuming the yard. A few of my new Irises are blooming for the first time—big, showy blooms in a dark Eggplant, a soft, buttery yellow and white, another the deep, golden color of the yolks of eggs. The eggs I won't taste again until December. The yard is quiet now, after last week's coyote attack. Well, quiet of chickens, though we still hear the musical trills of frogs, and the chirpings of the parakeets in the aviary, and the singing of all kinds of wild birds. But the house, on the other hand, is another story. Listen carefully! In the back, closed in behind a sliding door, can you hear the soft peeping of new chicks? We'd been searching for a solution to our problem. I didn't want to order a flock of 25 that most hatcheries require, when a dozen would do. We looked online and found a few local possibilities, but the competition is fierce. Local broods seem to go fast and only one person with day old chicks answered my queries. These were the rare Lavender Orpingtons, and I was sorely tempted to order a few, but $9 each was too rich for my blood. There was a picture, and they are just lovely! Not really lavender, but a soft grey with rosy overtones. I don't have to use too much imagination to see Lavender. I thought about getting a breeding trio—a cockerel and 2 pullets—but these were straight run day olds. I only had a chance of getting one of each sex. We kept looking, kept emailing, prowled the farm stores in town for chicks.

MY GRANDMOTHER'S
PEONIES OPEN

Finally, after I had just about decided to order 25 from a hatchery, I came up lucky at the farm store. They were selling not just day old chicks, but day old pullets and I bought an even dozen—4 Buff Orpingtons, the soft, fluffy, good-natured chickens who make gentle, reasonable mothers and lay big tan eggs; 4 Rhode Island Reds, more businesslike, who lay brown eggs; and 4 silly Auracanas—rumpless, bearded ladies who lay eggs in a greenish, bluish tint. They're still under lights in the house, but we've been allowing them playtime out in the chick creeper. They are content scratching in the grass, running back to the warmth of the light when they get chilly. Soon they'll begin feathering out and will graduate to more and more time away from the lights until they can stay in the yard all day and just come in the house at night.

KEEPING WARM

they are content scratching
in the grass

The chicks will feather out, grow gangly and awkward, and finally take the matronly shape of a hen and begin to lay eggs around the winter Solstice, when I turn on the lights for warmth. Perhaps a few of these pullets will turn out to be cockerels after all. It's happened. It's hard to tell the difference in a day old chick. One way or another, we'll need to get a rooster or two to protect the flock as best they can. Maybe in a few weeks I'll email the woman with the Lavender Orps. Maybe she'll have a few left. Maybe she'll sell me a breeding trio or at least a pair, on the cheep.

SCATTER BEAUTY; CIRCULATE PEACE;
BLESSED BE!

Reinventing "Weeds"

We had a touch of rain last night in Birdland, just enough to dampen the ground and release that earthy rain smell. The dogs and I walked down the grass waterway to look at the blooming Plum trees on the edge of the field. Yep, they’re blooming, all right. The petals are starting to snow down into the grass, leaving furry asterisks of stamens, and, let’s hope, the germs of many wild plums. Birdland is rich in blossoms right now—the Lilacs remain crisp and aromatic even as the Peony buds swell. The fruit trees in the yard are covered with blooms, the Apples that our friend, Brian, pruned; Pears; Cherries; Peaches; and especially the ancient Quince tree. Grandma’s yellow roses have only the tiny beginnings of buds yet, but the Sweet Rocket is sending up little bluish clusters that will soon open into a riot of violet heads, and Iris has sent up stalks with white, papery sheaths, getting ready to unwrap the present of a bud inside. Weeds are coming up, too, and I’m continuing the experiment I began last summer: mow with the rotary push mower just around the house, and limit the mowing of the rest of the yard to three times this summer. Meanwhile, my goal is to reduce the area that needs to be mowed by expanding flowerbeds and intensively mulching. I want the yard to eventually resemble a semi-wild park with winding paths lined with flowers that lead to various corners, like outdoor rooms: the bonfire area for nighttime parties; the glider for quiet contemplation; the picnic table for meals; the pond, chicken house and vegetable coop for pleasant chores. My first path leads to the barn, and the bulbs I planted in the fall are taking turns offering their parade of color. The daffodils are drying like crepe paper, tulip petals are falling to reveal fat, juicy pistils and stamens furry with black pollen, but the grape hyacinths have popped up, taking over in defining my path.

Another big part of my experiment is to redefine “weed.” Dandelions, for example, have medicinal uses (The flowers make Dandelion Wine, for example, medicinal purposes, of course) and people do grow it as a crop for the roots (Dandelion Coffee) and the greens are very nutritious. Um…why is it a “weed?” I actually like the sunny, yellow flowers, the snowy seeds, like tiny, white, umbrellas. I remember as a child, driving across town with my dad. He was playing a puzzle game with us. As we drove down the street he’d point at the various lawns, saying, “I like that yard, but I don’t like that one.” Our job was to find the pattern and guess what distinguished the yards he liked from the ones he didn’t. I can’t remember if we finally guessed or if he gave us the key: It was the absence or presence of dandelions. (Being my dad, he liked the lawns with dandelions.) For years now, I’ve left at least three common Thistles in my flowerbed because they attract butterflies. Left alone, Thistles are majestic plants with beautiful and complex purple flowers. If you mulch around them, creating a natural frame, they look like you’ve planted them on purpose. Now, more than ever, I am hesitant to mow down any plant that may help bees and other pollinators carry on. This year around the house, the Creeping Charlie has become a ground cover by default. Yes, it’s choking out the grass, but guess what? Since I haven’t mowed there at all, it has offered up heaps of gracious, blue flowers that contrast so beautifully with the deeply green leaves. I don’t think I’ll have to mow that part of the yard at all. I think I’ll just let those few clumps of grass that have managed to push through go to seed to break up the field of blue and green. I’ve lived in the country long enough to know that if I don’t mow at all, I will wake up one day in a jungle of Ragweed and Hemlock (and I know from experience that this is not a good thing). My goal instead is to mow a little less every year. Robert Wright wrote in his New York Times “Opinionator” column, “The Dandelion King,” “the war on weeds, though not unwinnable, isn’t winnable at a morally acceptable cost.” He cites the dangers of pesticide use and advocates for a new standard for lawn care. I’d like to join him in tweaking our perception of attractiveness to incorporate a more natural and holistic beauty.

Walk in Peace; Reinvent Beauty; Blessed Be.