Little Miracles

Little miracles happen around the Little Farm every day. The trees, the flowers, the wildlife, our domestic critter crew ... there is always something fascinating happening here at any given time. I get so focused on my daily "must-dos" that I often miss a lot of these special moments. But today, I got to witness one of them when I saw the miracle of life come full circle.

We have a sweet, little pair of purple finches who built a nest on our front porch this spring. Mrs. Finch began building "the nursery" in April. Mr. Finch would try to help, but I could tell she was running the construction project. He would add a twig or a piece of grass, and she would either tear it out and drop it on the ground or move it to some other part of the nest. It seems fitting that she should get her way because once the nest was completed, Mrs. Finch was the one who had to lay the five eggs and then incubate them for two weeks through wind, rain, heat, and cold. Mr. Finch would check in on her every once in awhile, and he would sing her the most beautiful songs. But after these short visits, he was free to go about his business in the great wide open while she nurtured the tiny, stirring miracles just beneath the five speckled egg shells.

The eggs hatched about two weeks ago, and it was a joyous occasion. For the first few days, Mrs. Finch would stand on the side of the nest, cock her little head, and look at the squirming, pink things inside with the gaping mouths. I wonder what she was thinking. Mr. Finch would perch on our lamp post and sing proudly. I bet I know what he was thinking.

The babies grew quickly, and finding and delivering food became a round-the-clock mission for the new mother and father. Mrs. Finch stayed in the nest at night for the first week to keep the babies warm. After that, she and Mr. Finch roosted in the nearby spruce tree where they could keep their eyes on anything coming or going around the porch.

Over the weekend, I watched as the babies began grooming themselves and stretching their wings. They were almost as big as their parents and had full feathers. I knew they'd be ready to leave soon. I checked on them yesterday morning, and all of them were gone expect for one. He was smaller than the rest--maybe the last to hatch--and he looked so forlorn and lonely. Mom and Dad would stop by every hour or so to feed him, but most of their attention was focused on feeding his four siblings in the spruce tree. I looked outside every few hours expecting to see an empty nest, but at nightfall, he was still there.

When I checked on him this morning, he was perched on the side of the nest flapping and stretching his wings. I could hear his parents calling to him from the trees. He would get back in the nest, then climb out, then get back in again. Mom and Dad would come and talk to him, urging him back up on the edge. Finally--about an hour ago--I just happened to look out the window as he launched himself out of the nest, into the open sky, and onto a spruce limb. He took a huge leap of faith into the great, big world, and Mom and Dad were waiting with a meal and some reassuring chatter. I'm a sentimental sap, but it brought tears to my eyes.

Such a small miracle in the grand scheme of things, but a blessing all the same ...

For Real????

So I'm YouTube happy today. My dad sent me an e-mail about this deer earlier today. I decided to go out on the Interweb over my lunch break to see if I could find any other details. Well, I found all kinds of Web sites and photos and videos--this doe's a star!

It's fascinating and also downright insane if you wanna know my take on it. Ice cream with a splash of coffee and sweetener? Linguine in bed? A deer that uses a human toilet? For real???

Meet Dillie ...


I don't know what's more bizarre ... a deer living in a house or the creepy news reporter who locks himself in with her for "nap time." Watch out, Dillie!

I Survived

And so did the farrier, thank God. Beau and Scout did their best--even in a heavily drugged state--to kill us all. Richmond tried to sneak in a few "love nips." The horses that I expected to be on their best behavior turned out to be the worst. But in the end, we were able to wrestle them into submission and get the job done.

Today, I feel like I've been beaten by a two-by-four. During the whole ordeal, I didn't realize I was using every muscle in my body to hold huge horse heads and dodge flying hooves. I think I was tense from my head to my toes for the entire three hours of the vet/farrier visit. Remington was the last horse on the schedule. He seemed to know that we thought we were home free, and he decided it was his mission to try to break our collective wills. In my desperation and exhaustion, I actually started doing some kind of weird horse-human meditation. I closed my eyes, leaned in really close to Remi's temple, and just started breathing slowly and deeply. I think he actually picked up on the calmness I was trying to project because he went from being a red-eyed, fire snorting demon horse to one that was just slightly bratty.

All I know is that I need a massage and several glasses of wine thank you very much!

But there is some good news to report--it truly wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Two of the six equines were perfect gentlemen. And the farrier didn't seem nearly as uspet over my boys' bad behavior as I was. He agreed to come back in seven weeks to do it all again, and that's pretty darned fantastic.

Thank you all for your positive thoughts, prayers, and crossed fingers. I really do think they helped!

Trouble is Looming ...

... and it's coming in the form of 16 legs, 16 hooves, and two sets of long ears.

Tomorrow is a day I've been dreading for several weeks--hoof trimming time coupled with the annual visit by the horse vet. Never mind that these two visits are going to put a massive dent in the old pocketbook. I've resigned myself to that and if it was the only thing I had to deal with, life would be grand. No. I'm concerned about the attitudes of certain members of the equine contingent here on the little farm. Gravely concerned.

The two donkeys hate/loathe/detest both the farrier and the vet. Even though they aren't much bigger than the German Shepherds, the jackazzes weigh a heckuva lot more and are much more violent when asked to do something that they don't want to do. And trust me--they don't want to do much of anything unless food, hugs, or back massages are involved.

Then there's two of the horses--Stretch and Richmond. Stretch decided several months back that after 24 years of putting up with hoof trims and shoes, he just ain't having it anymore. He is now a total terror for the farrier. And Richmond--our huge tank of a Paint horse--decided somewhere along the way that it would be fun to sneak in a few bites on the farrier's butt whenever possible. And if that's not bratty enough, he decided that maybe he could just fall right over for good measure. Did I mention that he's built like a freakin' tank?

Farriers are hard to come by around these parts, and we've already lost several due to these miscreants' bad behavior. One actually broke down and CRIED during her final visit because my guys were so bad. I've had a few others since then and for some reason, they never return my calls after their first visit. Hmmm. Tomorrow, we're trying another new guy and I am praying with all of my might that everyone will behave. The vet is helping with the donks in the form of two needles filled with "Sleepy Time." But the farrier is on his own when it comes to Stretch Man and Richmond. God help him!

So send positive thoughts and prayers my way tomorrow between 1:00 and 3:00 p.m. central time. I may be the one needing the horse tranquilizers after all is said and done.