How Cats Felt

Thanks to everyone for sending Isis their best wishes! She is back to her fresh and frisky best.

We took her stool sample to the vet today, and there in the reception area was a 10-wk-old grey tabby up for adoption. Spouse & I played with her while we waited for Isis' poop to process. She was so cute and so playful and -- and -- ok, yeah, you guessed it: next week Isis is getting a new playmate.

I think we are going to name her Morgan, for Morgan LeFay.

Do NOT let me go near fur babies in need of homes. EVER.

In other cat news, Emma (above) learned how to open the sliding screen on the patio door today. She loves to go outside, although I don't really like to let her out much. (I think she's really trying to encourage Isis to run away from home.) I ran out on the deck after her, put her back inside, and shut the glass slider.

About two hours later, a thundershower hit and we had a good twenty minute downpour. I happened to be passing through the kitchen and who do I see outside the door? Old Grey Cat, wet and crabby, trying to figure out why the door is closed. (He thinks all our doors are automatic, because usually all he has to do is mewl once or twice and someone appears to magically open them for him.)

Yes, our 16-year-old senior had slipped out, unbeknownst to me, to do his house rounds and gotten caught in the rain. I towelled him off and he seemed no worse for the wear, aside from being his usual curmudgeonly self, and it being dinnertime besides (reason enough to complain).
Here's Emma felting, in a less malevolent moment. Uh-oh, I think she felted herself to sleep.

Her First Peep

A few weeks back one of our hens went broody. A year ago I got my first chickens, so this is all pretty new to me. For example, did you know you didn't need a rooster to get eggs? You won't get baby chicks, of course, but you'll still get eggs. This seems like common sense, but just one of the very many things I did not know about chickens.

I let her sit on some eggs for awhile, and about two weeks ago we candled them (held them over a light) to see if any of them looked like they might be developing. Lo and behold, about six of them were opaque, indicating chicks within.

My mom, a retired physiologist, insisted on cracking open the more translucent eggs, the ones we took away from Broody Hen, and none of these showed promise of life, save one or two with small blood spots, and one with (ew!) something like a small eye.

[Okay, no more disgusting details, promise. She's a scientist, I can't help it.]

Anyway, we separated Broody Bird from the other chickens and waited. She continued sitting on her eggs, but nothing happened. I'd go out to check on her and see this:

I'd marked her start date on the calendar, so after the 29 days were up, I'd pretty much given up on the eggs. Maybe they'd gotten cold one of those days she'd gotten up for a snack and gotten back in the wrong nesting box. (This was one of the reasons we'd moved her to her own box.) Or maybe we were wrong about which eggs were fertile. But then yesterday I went out to visit her and saw this:

You can even see the broken shell (post emergence) at the left. I was so tickled!

I'm sure this is old hat to anyone who has ever lived on a farm or raised birds, but I was beside myself. Happy dance time! And the peep is so fuzzy and cute. Okay, just one more shot of Mama Bird:

Doesn't she look proud?

And here's the rest of the flock, enjoying an afternoon in the garden. The handsome guy (second from left) is Odo, our rooster, the sole male escapee of last fall's buchering. Now, before you protest, let me explain that we had sixteen roosters (out of 26 chicks) that all turned into big, noisy, fighting cocks. The hens too have a pecking order (you can see some of the girls are missing feathers, and they've pulled out all but one of Odo's tailfeathers), but they're nothing compared to the demon-spawn the roosters turned into. Plus, they lay eggs, which we like to eat...so the boys...well, they're history.

So Odo is the father of the new baby, and one of the girls is the mother (no way to know which one, although I'm guessing one of the Black Jersey Giants). The black-and-white hens are Silver-laced Wyandottes. Odo was an odd chick, a freebie that came from Murray McMurray Hatchery when you ordered 25 birds. So I don't know what breed he is (hence the name Odo).

I ordered 25 more chicks from McMurray again this year, females this time (although I'm told that sexing chicks is an inexact science, and we may wind up with a few roosters anyway). I posted a photo of them on May 2. (And yes, they really did arrive by mail.)

Okay, enough about chickens. Isis is back to normal (yay!) and if I can get her to play with something other than my needles, I will continue knitting the critter blanket I started for Rebekah's charity pet drive.

Make-a-Toy

Well, why not make a toy for a fur baby that doesn't have a home yet? There are free patterns for cat and dog stuff (toys and blankies) you can make for shelter animals, and Rebekah has collected 20-some cool knitty-esque giveaways for a drawing for donors. (Deadline is July 15.)

I really wanted to make these, but apparently the penguins have enough sweaters.

So go here to find out more.