Haiku: Who Are You?

Someone came by last night – the tracks indicated that it was a feline. Was it a neighbor’s cat, returning to a home…or a stray cat, just hoping to find food and some shelter from brutal cold? I hope it was the former, but fear that it was the latter. I hope it wasn’t the tuxedo cat with the limp. Sadly, not all cats have a safe, good life. I wish they did. I’ll think of the visitor as I feed my cats, warm and well-fed, tonight: may you find a safe haven.

Haiku: Watching And Waiting

Our laying flock must see us as egg thieves: each day – multiple times a day if it’s especially cold out – we collect their freshly-laid eggs. If a hen is sitting, we reach under her fluffy feathers and feel around for eggs – a treasure hunt, of sorts. Most of the girls in nest boxes enter a trance-like state, which I like to call “the zone”, and they don’t even seem to realize that an egg thief is there to take their eggs – they don’t move, protest, or do anything but remain blissfully docile. Most.

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Haiku: Fall’s Finery

What constitutes a “perfect” Fall day? For me, it’s cool temperatures that bring crispness to the air and a touch of frost to the grass; clear, deep blue skies; a kaleidoscope of fiery leaf colors ranging from gold to salmon to crimson; and the welcome softness of the season’s light. It’s this quality of the light, in particular, that always causes me to take a moment to fully recognize that summer has departed for another year.

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Haiku: Silken Symmetry

The spiders here run the gamut from large to small. This particular orb weaver is tiny…so tiny that, to the naked eye, she looks like a speck. I’d noticed this line of objects atop the rooster tractor and when I looked very closely, saw that the diminutive arachnid was perched in the middle of the line. Do you see her?

For perspective, my finger – photo taken a few days later, her web’s a bit worse for wear

Haiku: Mercurial Mammatus

A strong storm blew in yesterday – the kind that made me wish I’d shut the solid coop door (often open for airflow this time of year, with the chickens safe behind a wire-covered “screen” door). The rain pounded the earth in slanted sheets, and the trees’ limbs flailed in the whipping wind. Thunder rattled the glassware in the china cabinet and I steered clear of the windows, wary of the brilliant flashes of lightning.

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