The Dead Duck

Part of my country fantasy has always been to have some chooks free-ranging around my property, laying lovely brown eggs and sitting on my lap to be stroked. 

The Enchanted Garden actually has an existing chook pen/shed ... but here's the thing - it totally terrifies me. It's all ramshackle and falling down, covered in rusty wire and fallen branches, and I'm sure inside it's festering with rats and snakes. Even though I've never actually stepped foot in there, as it's my 'scary place'. 

During the week when it was incredibly windy, a sheet blew off my clothesline, and ended up getting tangled on a thorny bush behind the Scary Chook Pen. I trod through the grass tentatively, talking loudly to scare off potential snakes, before finally untangling the sheet. Then I ran away as quickly as I could from the corner of my property I like the least. 

Another reason I'm reluctant to keep chickens is that I'm worried about foxes. I know there is a fox that stalks this area (my neighbour told me so) ... and one night, as I was lying in bed (it was well after midnight), I heard a duck quacking (weird at that time of night). My neighbour keeps ducks, or it may have been one of the wild ducks that swim on the many dams around here. Anyway, I hear "quack quack quack ... SQUAWWWWWKKKKKKKKKKKK!" Then silence. Dinner time for the Incredible Mr Fox, I'd say.

Today, my brother and his family came to visit, and as usual, I got them working for their supper in the garden. At least my brother Peter worked, while the kids Lachlan, Rohan and Alicia 'supervised' and Carolyn gave design advice.

Alicia pretending to work.

Peter, who is obviously built of much braver DNA than I, decided he wanted to check out inside the Scary Chook Pen ... and when he went inside, he found the corpse of a duck. I believe this may have been the very duck I heard being murdered by Mr Fox; and judging by its state of decay (body intact, head reduced to a skull), I think Foxy may have been snacking on the body intermittently. I was of course freaked out; but Peter decided that Ducky should have a decent burial. 

Here some pics of the funeral service, with Reverend Lachlan providing the eulogy.

A serious moment for Rohan and Lachlan

RIP, Ducky!

Spring Fever

It's been a ridiculously warm week here at Little Hartley - I've barely had the fire going, and when I have, it's made the house too hot. Yep, spring is sprung in The Enchanted Garden; the deciduous plants are all abloom, and the lawn has gone nuts. So I called in the Cavalry, in the form of a neighbour with a ride-on mower to finally cut the grass back and make the property look a little less like a hovel. 

The lawns looking neat at last!

Having neat lawns has made a huge difference, and it's made me realise just how desperately I need my own ride-on mower. I used to dream about buying a nice pair of shoes, or a pretty dress; these days, I lust after mowers, mulchers and whipper snippers. Anything to make this massive job easier. 

I've decided I want the 'back paddock' completely bulldozed, apart from the trees. The shrubbery, which I've been cutting back and weeding this week is pretty blah, so I would like to lose it altogether and just have trees and lawn out the back. Which one day might be Cass' paddock. I've been working my arse off this week trying to get this area under control; still a way to go, I've just started cutting back a hedge which I really don't like and would eventually like to remove completely. It's certainly worn me out, I'm sitting here aching like you wouldn't believe! 

The front garden, meanwhile, is ablaze with colour. The crabapple tree is just magnificent, hot pink blossoms buzzing with bees. And the wisteria is starting to come out, soon it will be a purple picture - my pride and joy. 

The gorgeous crabapple in bloom

Cass also has Spring Fever. On Friday, he decided he didn't want to be caught, running away from me in a merry game as soon as I got within a metre of him. His young chestnut girlfriend, who is skittish at the best of times, just encouraged him; soon all five horses in the paddock were galloping up and down, anywhere but near me. 

I couldn't help but smile at Cass' antics - he looks so handsome prancing around, shaking his blonde mane and tail, despite being an annoying shithead. In the end, my horsey pal Michelle had to come down and help me, with Cass finally succumbing to a bucket of bread and allowing himself to be caught. 

I took Cass out on the trails three times over the weekend; yesterday we went bush-bashing up a mountain, managing to get lost about 300 metres up a ridge. Then Cass got tangled in a fallen fence; I totally freaked out, thinking he was going to panic and slash his legs; but he stood there like an angel, trusting me completely as I untangled his feet and released him from the wire. My heart was pounding like crazy - think I was more scared than he was. 

Think there may be a bond forming between me and my pony ...

Bonding with my horse

I've been a little quiet of late, partly because I've been busy (I do work, you know!) ... and partly because, well, because country life is becoming sorta mundane now. It's not feeling nearly as bizarro as it first did, and I've even warmed to the friendly redneck locals in Lithgow. I don't even notice that they have no teeth now! 

Having said that, as spring approaches, I realise I've really bitten off more than I can chew with this garden. At this stage I don't own a mower, and it's all starting to look out of control. And however many hours I spend in the garden contributing to the bonfire pile, I know I've barely scratched the surface. Scratch being the operative word, goddamn thorn bushes! 

I've also been spending more time with my horse. In fact, this past weekend, I spent two whole days with him at a training clinic held across the way at Hartley Vale. 

The instructor was a guy called Mike Bingham, and he's a rare breed of horseman with gentle yet logical methods of getting the measure of your horse. He encourages people to see the world through the eyes of their horse - in other words, you as the rider become an extension of your mount. 

Mike's methods were particularly effective with Cass's ground work. I must admit that my pony has literally been walking all over me - I've been letting him get away with being a right bastard, blaming my inexperience as a horse owner. 

But the solution is simple - all I have to do is treat Cass as if I was another horse. If he walks right on top of me, back into him; if he refuses to lead (which he often does when he's feeling lazy), get up him. If he pins his ears back at me in distaste, let him have it back. It's not about force, it's just about letting him know who the dominant mare is - ie, me! 

Cass learning a bit of respect from Mike!

Mike also has some interesting theories about riding. For instance, to stop your horse clean, RIDE him into it, using your legs. Then, when you release the pressure on your calves, your horse should immediately stop. We were all stunned to see how this worked, with each and every horse. 

I also learnt about head and neck carriage, and how every movement of the horse is dependent on that part of the body. Until he gets his neck right, he can't get his back-end right. 

All technical stuff... but it was an awesome experience, I learnt a stack, and I think Cass finally has a bit of respect for me!