rhubarb rhubarb rhubarb

I read somewhere in chicken-message-board-land that it is possible a clutch of chicks could have as many as 80% roosters.  I didn't believe it, or at the very least, I didn't believe it would happen to us.

As it turns out, I was right.  We did not hatch 80% roosters.  We have, however, in raising two clutches of chicks, had the pleasure of rearing seven roosters and three hens.

I should rephrase that.  It hasn't really been a pleasure, it's been a downright nuisance.

On the bright side, we are not overwhelmed by 13 hens pumping out eggs every which way.  (And since our hens have a propensity to nest under a different bush in any of three yards every couple of weeks, this is a very good thing)

So.  In January 2012, seven fluffy, beautiful chicks hatched - our first ever clutch.  Technically they were two clutches, since we'd placed six eggs from a neighbour underneath one unexpectedly clucky hen and one under the other.  They had been evenly spread until I observed one hen wildly dirt bathing for an extended period.  Being concerned the developing chicks might die without their adopted mother warming them, I whisked several eggs away from her and stowed them under the other hen.  In the end all the chicks hatched and we housed them and their mothers in the coup to protect them from hawks and cats.

Four months later we had five roosters crowing day and night, night and day.  Someone complained to the council, but we were already onto it.  A quick ad on gumtree, and three roosters were dispatched to someone who promised to sit quietly with them before, ah... well... um (there is no nice way to say this)... cutting their throats and eating them.  I didn't really care if they were going to be eaten.  Once we (finally) caught them all and stuffed them into a box, they couldn't crow in my backyard any more and that's all that mattered.

So there were two, but in suburbia, two roosters is still two too many.  We had the bright idea of phoning a friend who lived on a farm.  'Yes,' he said. 'We'd love two roosters!  We've just built a new chicken enclosure!'  Just that easily we packed Gaylord and Focker off to their new home.  Last we heard, they were leading all their hens astray, sleeping high in the trees rather than in the hen house and staging escape attempts at regular intervals.  (We breed them feral here - all our chickens decline their coup and sleep in the trees.  One is even sleeping in the bush outside our back door at present.)

The two chicks who turned out to be hens (Maisy and Elsie) have definite bantam leanings.  They are small, lay delicate little eggs and go broody at the drop of a hat.  In twelve months they must have both been broody six times each.  Considering we don't really need any more chickens, it's all rather annoying.  Still, breaking the broodiness from these hens takes several days, and they pine for their eggs terribly, and Frank is tender hearted, so sometimes we let them sit.  That is how we ended up with another three chicks.  (The mother wasn't so great and a couple more chicks hatched but died, and a few tried to hatch but weren't kept warm enough.  They also died.)

It turns out that two of the surviving three were roosters.  Sigh.  What to do with another two roosters?  Pluck up the courage and kill them ourselves?  I'd like to give it a go, but it sounds like a lot of hard, potentially messy work.  (Although the bloke who took the last three assured me he could pluck a chicken in 6 minutes.)

The situation was eventually taken out of our hands.  We woke up one warm morning to a dead rooster lying peacefully in the yard.  He'd barely begun to crow, though we had named him Brewster.  (The other is called Speckles, and the hen is PJ, short for Plain Jane)

The only thing I can think of is this.  Rhubarb leaves were eaten some number of days before, perhaps as long as two weeks before.  Quite a lot of rhubarb leaves were eaten.  I was a bit worried, but every one appeared to be OK.  The chooks kept doing what chooks do (eating, pooing and laying eggs) and I forgot about it.  I did notice that Brewster was pooing strange, runny poos that didn't looks quite right for worms.  I meant to google them (gotta love chicken message boards) but forgot about it.  Frank came in one evening and said he was suffering from the heat... and he turned up dead the next day.

At that point I did google rhubarb and chicken poo.  Turns out that chickens are indeed affected by the oxalic acid in rhubarb leaves.  It causes kidney failure in them (as it does in humans) and kidney failure leads to strange, runny, brown poos... and death.  Poor Brewster.  (Not poor Cecily, though!  I thought it was a rather sad but convenient solution to our rooster problem)

So now Speckles rules the roost.  He has puffed out into all his rooster glory and willingly crows to the world that he is the king of his castle.  He mates with the smaller hens although the larger girls still think of him as a chick.  I suspect that if he keeps up with calling them over for food, however, he might just win them over too.  That is unless he dies too... today, we discovered the rhubarb leaves, eaten back to the veins.  I guess we'll know in a couple of weeks.

why poverty?

I had a funny story to tell you tonight.  I relayed it to Frank over tea tonight and it seemed perfect for the blog.

Then we watched 'Why Poverty? Welcome to the world' on ABC2, and it's driven the funny story from my head.  Plus after watching a show about babies being born, and often dying, around the world... a joke doesn't seem appropriate somehow.

There were the usual shocking statistics about infant mortality rates in Africa (82 in every 1000 babies born in Africa dies before their first birthday), but did you know the maternal mortality rate has worsened in the USA in the last twenty years?  I find that rather astounding - the world's largest economy has the worst rate of maternal mortality in the developed world.

I'm incredibly grateful to have been born in Australia - we have the second lowest rate of infant mortality in the world.  And if I should end up having a baby, even as an older mother I'm in good hands... Australia has the fourth lowest rate of maternal mortality in the world.

If I can get iview to work with our current internet service to play iview, I think I'm going to watch the other 'Why Poverty?' episodes (there has been one every night this week).  It's always good to be reminded of how incredibly blessed I am, and to revisit what I can do to contribute to the redistribution of the world's resources so everyone has a fair go in life.

my second rate life

One of the teachers at school is about to go on maternity leave.  It's a poignant event she thought might never come.  As is usual, all the staff brought baby gifts and morning tea for a celebration today.  The last one was held a month or so ago and a baby girl has since been born.  I avoided going to that event by hanging out with the kids, but today I felt I should be there.

The whole thing must have been weighing on my mind because I dreamed about it last night.  It all ended in tears when I walked out of the room crying about not being pregnant myself, but it was only a dream, and at least it reminded me to get up and get a present out of my present drawer (yay, one thing less in there) and cook something for the morning tea.

Of course everyone was talking about babies when I came into the staff room today.  This one is pregnant and so is that one, and did you know she is too?, and everyone seems to be pregnant now don't they?  Just the kind of conversation I love being around for.  Then the teacher came in and everyone rejoiced with her for having made it this far.

The formality was a brief speech by another member of staff before the official handing over of two baskets stuffed with baby gifts.  "Well done for making it this far... etc, we have journeyed with you all the way..."  Then the clincher:  "The best of your life is starting now."

Right then.  Meaning Cecily the loser, who doesn't have a child?  Cecily, the one with the second rate life who can't experience the best because she hasn't had a baby?

Thanks a bloody lot.

I left pretty soon after that.

Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure this person would be horrified to know what effect their words had.  But that's the whole point.  People don't think about what they say a lot of the time.  And I just suck it up all the time.  But if you think I'm becoming a recluse or avoiding you... maybe it's because you said something bloody awful and stupid.  Don't worry.  Even my mum does it.  And if my dad would stop asking me 'any more news?' all the time, things would be a whole lot better too.

traffic lights and human nature

I found myself musing quite a bit on traffic lights as I drove to and from work, although I'm not quite sure why.  I like to follow traffic rules, especially when they are going my way.  I like green lights all the way through town.  Sometimes I can even make it all the way to work with only one red light.  Fabulous!  Not so fabulous the red light after red light I experienced on the way home this evening.

After stopping multiple times already, there I was sitting in a right hand lane waiting and waiting to turn.  This is Tasmania, mind, so I probably waited one minute, but it seemed like an age.  First there were the ambling pedestrians, then a string of cars turning left from the other direction, and then the lights turned amber.  The 4WD in front of me quickly turned right and I hot footed it around after them, right on their tail, sneaking around in a rather daring and flagrant dash through what quickly became a red light.  It was a little disconcerting when the 4WD then turned into the gated police station car park and I realised I'd made my out of character running of the lights right behind a police officer.  Ho hum.  I seem to have gotten away with it.  (Perhaps they had bigger fish to fry.  I was rather tame by comparison.) Not five minutes later I caught myself grumbling about a car doing... um... exactly what I had just done.  Funny how it's OK when I do it, but not OK when someone else does.

My traffic light musing was around the angst lights create in me.  (Should I discuss this with the psychologist also?)  I get grumpy when the lights turn red on me.  I feel cheerful when they go my way.

How stupid!  Traffic lights are traffic lights.  They keep traffic flowing freely and easily (most of the time), and I'm grateful for that.  It could be as simple as, 'Oh, the lights are red and now the others get a chance to get to where they are going', rather than a crazy, 'OH, those darn lights are RED again, and now I can't get where I want to as quickly.'

I think I'm over analysing, but why do we always want to get through the lights before they turn red?  Or is it just me?  (I'm thinking not, since people run red lights all the time)

It's like driving on highways.  I sit on the speed limit and a car might sit behind me for twenty kilometres, also doing the speed limit.  I don't slow down, but all of a sudden they speed up and over take me... and sit in front of me, both of us on the speed limit again.  I catch myself doing the same thing, as if I can only sit and let someone else be dominant on the road for so long.

Then there are the people doing well below the speed limit on single lane highway.  There is no way to overtake them until the overtaking lane comes along - at which point they speed up to the speed limit meaning I have to break the speed limit to overtake them.

I'm a bit too obsessed with speed limits and traffic rules, I know.  (In many ways I am non conformist, but when it comes to road rules I am totally a rule follower)  It strikes me that something interesting is going on on our roads.  I suppose if some one was to explore things in evolutionary terms, they might trace it back to a distant past where the need to be dominant was crucial for survival.  We're all surviving pretty well these days, but the drive to dominate remains, and we act it out on the roads with our need to be first, and fastest, and most blessed with green lights.  Could be that's a long stretch, but hey... these are the things I muse on as I drive around the place.  Better that than admit I'm a selfish git who just wants everything to go my way!

she was onto something after all...

Last Christmas we were visiting my mother-in-law.  We were gathered around the table sharing small talk, and I was flattening out a lolly wrapper and fiddling with it.

"You're a nervous person, aren't you," she stated, "Fiddling with that wrapper."

"No." I replied, "I just fiddle and make things.  I'm always making things."

She nodded her head in that 'I'm agreeing with you to keep the peace, but I don't really agree with you' kind of  a way, and I kept flattening and folding the wrapper.

Fast forward through the year and here I am, ten months into what has turned into a very lengthy journey with a psychologist.  One of the surprising discoveries for me was the extent to which anxiety rules my emotional world.  I've hidden it well, often from others (except my mother-in-law, it would seem) and definitely from myself.  I remember the session when it all clicked into place for me - a cold breeze of shock and amazement hit me as my Johari window was flung open wide. 

Me?  Anxious?  No way!

Yes. Way. 

And now that I'm aware of it, I stumble across it all the time, influencing a decision here, holding me back there.  It's not crippling anxiety, but it has limited me a lot more than I've ever been willing to acknowledge. I've discovered a lot of my interpersonal interactions are mediated by anxiety and my subconscious defences.

My mother-in-law picked it up (I don't want to give her too much credit, but you know... maybe she did see things I couldn't).  The psychologist picked it up too, quite early on.  Perhaps my reports of almost constant dizziness, and high blood pressure, and being jolted awake with the awfulness of knowing I may never have children, and the spasms in my back were a give away?  I remember him talking about fear and hope and asking me to come up with things I hoped for.  I really struggled with that - my hopes seem so unlikely.  It never occurred to me that I was in the grip of fear.

Three months later I had my 'Johari window' experience, and three months later again we have finally started doing relaxation.  It took that long to get over my worry about closing my eyes and relaxing.  I've done it twice now, although deciding whether I wanted to do it again yesterday took some doing.  Relaxation seems such a waste of time for a talker like me - I only get an hour a fortnight.  There's a lot to discuss! But after almost a year of talking, I think I'm almost talked out.  I'm just going over the same old ground now, and that gets a bit tiresome and tedious.  I need some circuit breaking action, and as he said, I have an agitated mind a lot of the time - relaxation could be a key to turning that around.  So I relaxed and visualised a beautiful scene and journeyed to places in my mind while he talked calmly in the background.  You could almost call it hypnosis.  (All those terrible things I was taught were evil - visualisation and hypnosis.  Turns out they are rather helpful and freeing and not evil at all.)  I may be imagining this, but I've felt a calmness and stillness in my mind since yesterday.  Not completely still, but less... agitated.  I like it and I'm going to keep fighting the fear and doing it until I've achieved what I need to.  Whatever that is - I'm hoping I'll know when I get there.

And who knows... maybe when I visit my mother-in-law next month I'll sit quietly and still, no fussing, fidgeting or fiddling. 

And then she can tell me what a calm person I am.  And I will agree whole heartedly because I will be.

on and on and on... internet update

Writing this month hasn't worked out quite as I had hoped.  It was supposed to be a way of kick starting my writing, but mostly I feel like I've been cobbling something together at lightening speed.  The odd post has been thoughtful and deep, but a lot of them are fillers ensuring I meet the NaBloPoMo requirements... which I failed anyway due to a stupid internet company.

Speaking of which, they rang me again today.  The tech team, that is.  Asking me if I had cancelled my service with the company.  Um.  Yes.  Totally.

Turns out, no, I had to speak to the sales or cancellation department or something  (who would know which it is - I rang enough times to discover that it didn't matter which menu number I pressed, I still got the same person on the other end).  I spoke with Blake, who turns out not to be the supervisor Blake I almost wept on the phone to the other night.  This evening's Blake read through the records of previous conversations and said they had recorded I still had to pay the ETF.  That would be early termination fee.  I sincerely hope he misread that.  Anyway, he said that was crazy, since I've had not service, and he would make sure I didn't have to pay.  I dryly advised him that if I received a bill for early termination I would be going straight to the ombudsman.  He again assured me he would make sure it didn't happen.

I'm not holding my breath, but hopefully that was the last dealings I have to have with that company.  He said their codes had been removed from our line.  I still have a phone bill to come and that should be it.  Of course I'll keep you posted if it all turns nasty... I already have an ombudsman reference number from last week.

And now, to change the topic completely.  Here is something I found on the ABC Open page today.  It's really beautiful.

music, music

Phew!  That was a weekend and a half!  After carols on Friday night, and the quilling workshop yesterday, today it was the Vox Harmony Musical Moments concert.  It was all a bit of fun.  I like having a life, even if it's a little busier than I prefer.  I think it's all part of the 'fullness of life' I was raving on about a few days ago.

I was going to write about the Musical Moments concert, but I found a post I wrote about it last NaBloPoMo so I'll save myself the effort - I pretty much want to say the same things this time around anyway!  We sang different songs this time around, we fluffed bits here and there, we cheered the young ones, we felt proud.  It was good.

Now I just need to decide if I want to audition for 'Chicago' next week... I haven't even seen it (unless you count watching it on the plane without headphones in), which could be a bit of a problem.  The idea is tempting but I'm not sure if a) I can sing well enough to even get into the ensemble or b) I'll have time.  But tempting, yes.  Maybe I'll go find a copy and educate myself!

(Oooo I think I'm gonna try.  Maybe)