I haven’t done any work today. Actually, that’s a lie, I’ve poked around in Bugzilla a bit, reviewed some check-ins and discussed a few issues by IM. That probably adds up to a total of 15 minutes though, which is as near to no work as I’m ever likely to get. So, ignoring those 15 minutes, something interesting must have happened, let’s see…
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Here’s another duckling picture. They’re a completely different kettle of fish to pheasant and chicken chicks. Rather than a tendency to peck at each other, the ducklings preen each other, and even help each other out of the eggs. I scoffed a bit when I read that last part somewhere, but then I saw it twice with my own eyes.
The other main non-physical difference is that they respond to quacks. I can summon the whole group by quacking, and a different tone of quack sends them away again.
One late arrival this morning makes a total of eight ducklings. There are a few more that I don’t think are going to come out, but you never know.
Here’s a fantastic picture of the first duck having just hatched at twenty to eight. A second hatched minutes later. You have to look close up to really appreciate the cuteness of this little creature – I can’t wait to see what it looks like when the feathers dry out.
The new chicks we’re about to have are ducks. I have no idea what a newborn duck looks like, but this looks like a duck’s beak alright. Apologies in advance for the awful soundtrack – you might want to turn your volume down before pressing play!
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A quick picture of the chicks on their first or second adventure outdoors. This was a while ago now – I’ll probably post some up to date stuff later on. At the moment I’m just trying out posting via Flickr while I eat lunch.
Update: Having the picture on Flickr was just an excuse for them to put adverts by it, so it’s now in the Gallery here along with all my other pictures, and without any adverts.
Last year, we got involved in hatching chicks by accident, after I thwacked a mother pheasant off the nest by swinging some shears. She flew off and never returned, but we got hold of an incubator and hatched all 10 eggs which went on to become healthy pheasants. This year, with Fred the cockerel in residence, it’s on purpose – a batch of eggs have been in the incubator (a more sophisticated one this year that slowly rocks the eggs) for three weeks.
Seven chicks hatched yesterday and one today. There are five yellow, two brown and one black, and three possible mothers for each, but only one father. They’re all set up today in a new pen, complete with heatlamp, and all eight look healthy and very cute and fluffy.
Yes, moving horse, not moving house. Although the horse has been moving house, so the title could have been Horse Moving House. That’s taken up most of the day today, one way or another. She’s gone off to Harewood, so she’ll no longer be outside biting chunks off the hedge.
In other news, Mia has turned into a mountaineer. You only have to turn your back for 5 seconds before she’s balancing precariously on top of a table, chair, or whatever else happens to be around. It’s very frightening for us, but not for her apparently. I’m going to book her in for some lessons in the art of being scared before my heart packs up.
I had a pleasant surprise today, when I wanted to access the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. They apparently wanted £195+VAT (per year) to let me in, but just as steam had started coming out of my ears, I noticed I could just type in the number off my newly acquired library card. The same thing works at various other useful places as well. Three cheers for the library. I would say I’m glad I paid my council tax, but I joined the library the county that a portion of our garden is in, rather than the one where the house is.
I seem to remember that it’s a good idea to do a good deed every day, and I reckon it counts even if the recipient is only a sheep. If that’s the case, I’ve hit my quota for once. Trekking through the fields with my barrow of shit, a regular Sunday pastime, I spotted one of Blossom’s expensive cousins (see previous ovine post) stuck on its back.
These posh sheep are not nicely rounded like your everyday common and garden sheep – no – they are almost square. As such, once they get on their backs, they stay there until they die, which it appeared from a distance to have already done. Luckily, as I got closer, I saw a hoof waggle forlornly, and with the farmer being out at church, it was left to me to heave (they’re as large as they are square) the stricken brute to its feet. It stood there stunned for a few minutes, but eventually meandered off to join the rest of the flock.
With this in mind, I’ll sleep well tonight, and only hope tomorrow serves me up another good deed on a plate. This time I’ll be ready with the mint sauce.
(Blossom, incidentally, being round does not get stuck on her back, though she regularly gets her head stuck through the fence. I don’t regard freeing her as a good deed though – more of a pain in the arse. When will she learn?)
This morning, baby Mia is staggering around the yard at high speed, throwing stones at the cat. Her proudest moment was two stones launched simultaneously, one from each hand, and surprisingly accurately. From a distance of at least 7 feet* they fell only about 6 inches** short, but otherwise right on target. If this is normal behaviour for an 11 month old, I’m a chinaman.
*For seafaring types, in fathoms, this is 1.16666 recurring.
**For horseracing types, in furlongs this is 0.000757575 recurring.
The hedgehog with the top of its head sliced off (see earlier post) has been sighted again, up at the farm. In broad daylight, it scuttled across the farmyard oblivous to two dogs and several chatting people. From this, scientists can conclude that the top section of a hedgehog’s brain is responsible for (a) a nocturnal lifestyle, and (b) avoidance of predators. Thus, there is a glimmer of hope for insomniacs and people who keep getting into fights and I predict that in the future, laser head slicing will be as common as taking an aspirin.