The Madge Saga . . .Continued

It’s been a week since my first installment of the sad but true Madge Saga. . . .

Surprisingly, Madge’s leg healed quickly and completely.  She improved from hopping about on one foot, reminiscent of a flamingo, to favoring the injured leg with a limp, to barely a hobble, and finally she demonstrated no evidence of the injury at all, besides a bit of a lump where the bone mended.  Madge grew to enjoy her life with us humans but she pined for her friends.

Each day, when I let her out of the shed for a little exercise and fresh air, Madge would visit me in the garden before making her way down the steep hill into the gully, skirting the murky pond and hovering just outside the chicken tractor that is home to her four sisters.  A chicken tractor (called an ark in England) is a moveable coop which protects the girls from predators while allowing them to nibble on tender tidbits of gourmet greens and neatly fertilize the garden and surrounding area.  Madge would scratch and cluck near her friends until I would pick her up and carry her back to the shed for her own safety.

Finally her leg was mended to the point where I was comfortable returning the lonely Madge to the friends that were so fickle as to shun her when she needed them most.   I was aware that they would need to restablish their pecking order but I was sure Madge was up to the job.  Madge was reintroduced to the girls on a Monday afternoon.  Almost immediately, poor Madge was accosted by Martha, the Buff Orpington that previously was content to follow Madge’s lead.  Feathers flying like snow, Madge seemed to accept the onslaught without defending herself.  Occassionally the other girls would peck and scratch but eventually Madge found the safety of the laying house.  When I checked later, it seemed all was peaceful and I was sure things would calm down by the next day.

Unfortunately, I was terribly wrong. . .

When I returned home from work and eagerly traipsed down the hill to the coop, I saw the girls brutally pinning poor Madge to the ground and pecking her mercilessly.  It was clear she had literally been picked on all day while I was at work and had the bloody wounds to prove it.  Once a hen is bloodied in battle, the others are relentless to finish her off, and will do so if they are allowed.  When I opened the door of the coop, Madge saw her opportunity and flew for freedom, nevermind that my head was directly in her path. 

The mean hens were fed and watered and I slowly approached poor tormented Madge.  I thought she would be rattled and not allow me to pick her up, but she assertively walked toward me, clucking the whole time.  It was then I saw the extent of her wounds: around her eyes there were scratches and cuts from sharp claws and beaks, her comb was bloody and mangled, but the worst sight was the back of her poor little head.  Completely denuded of feathers and bleeding, Madge looked like a monk whose hairdo was cut with a kitchen knife. 

Back into the shed she went. . .

A healed but still bald Madge
A healed but still bald Madge

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Madge

Where does one begin with Madge?  This funny little hen has had a dramatic and persecuted life, complete with violence, mishaps and a new set of friends. 

Madge

Madge

Madge’s story began when she was brutally injured and was not able to put weight on one leg.  Picked on (literally) by her roommates, she was losing feathers at an alarming rate.  The rain had matted her feathers, making her look even more bare than she truly was.  The mud coated her legs, belly, and side, evidence of her lack of mobility.  Forlorn, ugly and tired, her tail feathers slumped down and she hobbled along slowly.  

After careful analysis, we determined Madge had indeed broken her leg.  My husband, who in spite of himself is more sensitive than a first grader with a new puppy, suggested taping the injury.  He declared, “If I ran to the store and bought some athletic tape I could tape it so it could heal.”  And that is exactly what he did.  I washed the mud off in the laundry room sink and held the patient close while Ben made careful use of his coach’s training  intended for the world of adolescent sports.  I’m certain the instructor never imagined his knowledge would be applied to a feathered farm animal. 

Into the garden shed Madge went, so she could convalesce in peace, without the harassment from the other girls.

This is only the beginning of Madge’s tale. . .

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The Girls are very busy!

This week we managed to return our lovely flock to their portable home.  The water had receded enough for them to leave the greenhouse, where they had made a tremendous mess in their displeasure over the lack of stratching material, and head back to the outdoor bliss of their chicken tractor.  By the next day each hen had thanked us for the return with an egg and could be seen busily searching for bugs, eating weeds and clucking in contentment.  They are keeping up with their production and we should be able to sell eggs soon to our friends and family.

Even though it was a lot of trouble, I am thankful the hens had to spend a bit of time in the greenhouse.  Ben and I had the opportunity to get to know them and their individual personalities a bit better.  Madge is definitely the friendliest and has to always be right there with you.  The three Rhode Island Reds are a bit stand-offish but Ester did lay an egg right in front of us one day!  Martha and Beth are quiet and non-descript; they don’t seem to mind us but clearly are more interested in humans who come bearing food (especially greens!).

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Aprons!!!!

pict0020At various craft shows and the farmer’s market women frequently look at my aprons and inquire about the same for their children.  Finally, after much honing and experimenting, I have been able to deliver.  I am pretty excited about my results.  Each apron is designed to be one of a kind with different fabric and various embellishments from pockets, ribbon, rick rack, lace and my signature yo yo flowers.  Each apron is lined with muslin and so far they come in two sizes; one meant for toddlers (18 months to 3 years) and a larger size that can be adjusted to fit children older than three.

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The little slices of country heaven are meant to be used for dress up, crafting, protecting clothes and hearkening back to a simpler, more beautiful time!

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The Flood

A torrent of raging water.

A torrent of raging water.

Oh. My. Goodness.  Yesterday the town of Orting and the surrounding area was told to evacuate due to imminent threat from flood waters and/or the possibility of the three bridges leading to town being compromised due to the rising water. 

A new river channel is cut through pasture land.

A new river channel is cut through pasture land.

 

We’ve had rising waters before.  When you live right on the Puyallup and Carbon Rivers, you get used to high water and threats of danger.  This time the rain was relentless, the weather in the mountains warm (melting the snowpak), and the threat real.  

Our house sits above the old Puyallup riverbed and not far from the current river.  While we are always able to see the levee holding back the waters, we have never before been able to see the waters reaching the top of the levee from our house.  This time, logs and debris floating toward the bridge at breakneck speed were eerily visible, yet the levee held.  Runoff has collected in our backyard (that old riverbed) and spilled over to the field next door.  Luckily, Ben got home in time to rescue the chickens, although they are irritated to be trapped in the greenhouse with nothing to scratch, and the task had to be accomplished in chest waders.  Our neighbors all are fine, as well but everyone was out in force documenting these events. 

The water has receded a bit from this minor levee breach.

The water has receded a bit from this minor levee breach.

There are several things that contribute to the unsettled elements of threatening water: the smell, the sound, and, obviously, the sight.  The smell is not foul, in and of itself; it is the smell of wet earth.  Strong and pungent, it is eerily out of place along the river yet the mud darkened waters carry it forward.  From our house we can hear the rushing water, reminiscent of the ocean’s crashing waves.  Finally, the sight of tremendous trees, uprooted upstream and traveling to the bay underscore the fury and anger that the water demonstrates.  Standing on the footbridge near our house last night, we were startled by the sound of especially large root balls slamming into the bottom of the bridge.  The water was close to the bottom of the decking but the flood crested before touching.

Power, devastation, nature, earth and luck all combined last night.  We are lucky; not everyone fared so well. 

 

Our Backyard
Our Backyard

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Doesn’t anyone send Christmas Cards anymore?

So every year I send out about a zillion Christmas cards.  Most of the time they are cards I make but sometimes I can’t resist really cute store bought sets.  My husband writes an entertaining letter detailing the events of the year in a very satirical way (not to everyone’s tastle, assuredly) and this tome of information goes out to everyone who was invited to our wedding (which was four and a half years ago). 

I do not abide by the “only send a card if we got one from them last year” rule.  I figure people get busy, forget, or maybe even don’t care and they are still just as entitled to this yearly update on the Smith household, such as it is and whether they want it or not.  I find if I somehow miss someone on the list, I definitely receive a card from them that year, asking about Ben’s letter.  It will be interesting to see what he comes up with this year!  No pressure of course!

Perhaps I’ll use these sleigh cards:

Also for sale at www.katiescottage.etsy.com

www.katiescottage.etsy.com

Either way, it’s sure to be Ben’s letter that will be eagerly anticipated!

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I’m thankful for. . .EGGS!

WoooHooo!  They finally did it. . .those silly girls finally provided us with some beautiful, brown, fresh eggs.  Ben and I had just about given up hope until spring, figuring that they would need the longer days to trigger that part of their systems.  We had even given up checking the layer box because it was so disappointing.  I checked today, just on a whim, and there were sixteen eggs.  We’ll toss this round since we don’t really know when they started and if the eggs spoiled, but I am so excited-my baking for Christmas will be wonderful thanks to the girls! 

I guess it’s true. . .a watched pot never boils!

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EZ Mount is Awesome!

Okay, I admit I am a traditional red-rubber-on-wood-block kind of stamper.  For some reason I resisted the clear stamps and those with Ez Mount.  Then I found the Magnolia stamps and LOVED the designs.  But, alas, they only come unmounted (and I’m not that faithful to wood blocks) or with EZ Mount.  I had to have these images so I tried the EZ Mount. . .I am such a huge fan!!!!  This stuff is amazing: it’s not at all sticky, doesn’t pick up bits of lint (or cat hair!) and really grips the acrylic block.  I am extremely impressed (and that’s not exactly easy to do). 

One of my latest Tilda creations!
One of my latest Tilda creations!

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The Magnolia Cards are Here!

I finally was able to create some cards from the Magnolia stamps I just ordered.  This Swedish company creates a line of darling stamps featuring Tilda, a little girl.  They are perfect for watercolor or marker coloring and, as always, I like to embellish the image with a bit of glitter!  Take a look:

Tilda Card Set

Tilda Card Set

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Perspective

Recently I had a string of irritating, annoying and sad things happen in my life.  Now, none were absolutely horrible or unbearable.  Yes, one was the death of my Grandmother-in-law whom my husband was very close to, and yes, one was a urinary tract infection (how’s that for too much information?) but, really. . . .  The challenging thing about this string of irritants was their proximity to one another.  From everying thing in life, there is a lesson.  I learned in the past two weeks just how much I still depend on the companionship and comfort of my mother (who was away during this time) and how important it is to just ride things out.  That string of events will eventually end and a new string (good or bad or somewhere in between) will take its place.

But, tomorrow, my husband and I are taking a day trip to Washington Wine Country, over the beautiful Chinook Pass, to rest and recuperate  :)   In the wine and the views we’ll be sure to find a new perspective and find joy in the memories of his dear Grandma.

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