From here on out, no more apologies about not posting to the blog enough. OK, I promise, that was my last one!
Two groups of baby birds are growing up on our property right now. One group: domesticated, entwined with man, part of our farm. Growing under careful loving care in safe conditions.
The other: untamed, mischief-filled and bright-eyed, aligned with the wild. Already engaged in a lifelong quest for survival.
Byron and I have really enjoyed watching the wren family on our front porch birdhouse over the last several weeks. At first, all we'd hear were the brazen, melodious chatterings of the parents as they scuttled across their house, clinging to the sides and scampering up over the roof. At times, the cacophony was so intense that I got the distinct impression they were having marital problems. But as the weeks wore on, more sounds began to emanate from the nest: distinct juvenile chirpings. Each evening, we watched as the parents flew into the woods to gather caterpillars and moths for their young. They would return, we'd hear the young birds cry in anticipation, then like a flash, the parents would be off again to retrieve more food. Trip after trip. Even more amazingly, at times they appeared to be cleaning house. The parent would return from the woods with a worm and deposit it. Then, they would carry debris and waste from the house and neatly place it on a nearby tree branch, creating tidy row after row on the limb.
Watching the wild wrens and the domesticated pullets grow up side-by-side has been fascinating and eye-opening. The young wrens emerged from their parents' nest yesterday, still with downy fledgling fluff clinging to their heads, their tail feathers barely developed, the shafts still showing clearly between thin feathery fluff. Yet, these young birds were already fully-flighted, and took to the sky immediately upon leaving the nest. They made a few errors, but had it sorted out in a hurry and were eager to get on their way. They were already amazingly survival-savvy, avoiding me judiciously even though I had been a presence on the porch throughout their development. They already knew the cardinal rule of wild things: survival is king.
By sharp contrast, the young chicks in my brooder seem painfully slow to develop. Now nearly two weeks old, the chicks can barely fly - even though their wings are fully feathered and their tails as developed as the wrens'. Although they are already showing most of their adult chicken behaviors such as pecking, stretching, flapping, dust-bathing and the like, they appear clumsy and unsure compared to the machinelike efficiency of the wrens. Clearly, these chicks depend on human intervention, or at least some level of care, to survive. It was one of the clearest pictures of domestication I've been fortunate enough to observe.
In other news, were were honored to host a special guest over the weekend: Linda Newman, of the Hedlund Husky Preservation Project. Hedlund huskies are a very special, very rare line of freighting dog from the far North. These dogs are very close to dying out, and are being painstakingly preserved by a group of extremely talented and dedicated individuals. They are a throwback to older lines of working sleddogs, a time when mushing demanded a very large, heavy-coated, tough dog that thrived in uncompromising conditions. Such dogs are decidedly rare in the sleddog world today, with racing dominating the mushing scene. Race dogs are built fast and light, small and efficient. Lightning-quick, the average race dog maxes out at around 45 pounds, and could be a mix of Alaskan village husky, shorthaired pointer, and even sighthound. These dogs are spectacular for racing, but due to their small size, can often fall up short when breaking trail on deep snow, or pulling heavy loads for long distances for camping or adventure expeditions. Clearly, in the mushing world there is a need for both types of dogs to be preserved, and Linda is doing just that by maintaining her very special lines of Hedlund freighting husky.
Speaking of the sleddogs, all of the Hoof & Howl crew is doing spectacularly. Tempo is growing up fast, and quickly proving to be a beautiful, incredibly driven dog with high leader potential. She amazes me each and every day. Of course, everyone else is enjoying the summer off from sledding work, choosing instead to pass their days lounging, going for easy hikes, doing obedience work, and of course, chewing away on frozen yogurt Kongs (everyone's favorite summer activity). We are also waiting on a shipment to arrive from California - our brand-new dryland training cart. Even though it won't be in use until fall, I cannot wait to see the new rig in person.
On the farm side of things, our small garden is growing away, producing huge stalks of garlic and pushing tomato plants up their stakes towards the sky. We have roughly 30 garlic heads growing away under the soft soil, and 12 Purple Russian tomato plants that are waiting to bloom and fruit. We harvested the scapes from the garlic yesterday and made a delicious batch of garlic scape pesto, served over freshly-rolled homemade pasta. Served with fresh-baked rosemary bread and old-fashioned roll butter, and a summer fruit salad, I wondered if meals could possibly get any more satisfying.
I don't think I could trade in the homestead life for anything. All of life's small pleasures are just too good to miss.
