The wind is whipping around and it’s bitterly cold. But animals still need to be paid attention to. Steve shoveled the snow off the chickens’ ramp this morning, though I doubt they’ll want to go out. Wind ruffles feathers and the cold hits their skin. They’ll stay inside today, I think. I can’t stay in, I’ve got two horses to go see. It takes more time to care for animals when one has to bundle up, move slowly, and then thaw out. So, with little time to blog, I’ve pulled out this photo from my collection to share. This expresses why I do the work that I do.

When Scholastic picked up

, the idea was that it would be a series. Tillie Lays an Egg is a picture book, but the pictures are actually staged photographs of my hens in tableaus filled with vintage objects that happen to have chicken motifs. I happily set about finding and purchasing all sorts of things that had great poultry graphics, like this canister of louse powder:

 

And these tablets:

 

But, in the publishing world, there’s never a guarantee. My editor was let go. My new editor wasn’t interested. I was left with boxes of stuff for photo shoots that would never happen. It’s time to let it go. Most of it has little monetary value, but these objects should be owned by someone who’s going to look at them, and so I’m selling much of it on eBay (here’s the listing.)

Have you had collections and then sent them on to other homes? I know that many of you have poultry paraphernalia. What do you have displayed?

I don’t write about cats here, but not because I don’t like them, but because for many years I haven’t had any in my life. I grew up with cats, and loved them, but as a teen I developed severe allergies to house cats. Happily, though, I’ve been getting cat-time at the stable where Tonka lives. There are two. One is shy. She does her mousing job but stays clear of people. The other is everything that people love (or hate) about cats. He’s insouciant and arrogant. He was adopted from the animal shelter; he was probably given up because he can go from purring to claws out in attack mode in the blink of an eye. We all adore him. Last week he went straight up a white pine tree. One-hundred and ten feet up. A tree guy was called to get the cat down. See photos from that rescue here.

He’s not allowed to go into the boarders’ tack room. He’s especially not supposed to be on the table. He ignores our opinions about such things.

He arrived from the animal shelter with the name Dirk, that none of us like, so we call him Fat Cat.

There are barn cats, and then there are felines that are indoor, indulged pets. Babying animals isn’t a new phenomena. Here’s a flapper carrying her beloved kitty. Note the collar – zoom in and you’ll see that it’s as fancy as the fox wrap that the woman is wearing. My guess is that this cat enjoyed her life. House cats can be just as happy as barn cats, even without a 110-foot tree to scale.

 

Scooter turns nine today.

He was not what I wanted. I’m not a toy dog person. I like my dogs mid-sized, active, smart, and focused. Working dogs. I was looking for a corgi mix. Maybe a terrier. A smallish dog that would keep Lily busy. Lily has always been a difficult dog to live with. She’s all of those things that I described above, but also an alarmist and very serious about staying alert. Her job is to keep the animals in the backyard safe. Unfortunately, the biggest threat to the chickens and goats are loose dogs in the neighborhood, so Lily became reactive and she didn’t have any doggy friends. One known dog companion in the house was what she needed.

I brought Scooter home. He was 10 weeks old and not even four pounds. It took awhile to train Lily that Scooter was not a chipmunk.

It took awhile for me to realize that this puppy wasn’t going to be as large as his mother (20 pounds) but would top off at under 11, and that there was no terrier or working dog in him. But, the Rolling Stones had it right: You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find that you get what you need.

Everyone needed Scooter.

The dogs that my sons grew up with had always been my dogs. They weren’t cuddlers. Scooter immediately filled in the job position that called for sitting on the couch, curled up next to a child.

Lily worried all day. Scooter filled in the job position of creating fun distraction. Soon, the dogs were doing the zoomies together (watch this video.) Afterwards, Lily was satisfied and relaxed.

Scooter got as attached to Lily as she was to him. When I took her on hikes and left him at home, he howled. Now that Lily has a cruciate tear, we no longer go on hard treks that Scooter can’t keep up with, and so they are always together. No more howling.

I needed a dog to go through the KPA course with. Lily couldn’t do it because of her reactivity and because she was already clicker trained. The job fell to Scooter, who I affectionately call the “dog of little brain.” Several times we had to go to a training facility, where there were scary smells and sounds and strange dogs. He was miserable traveling without Lily, but he did what he had to. In order to graduate, I had to teach him a 10-part behavior chain. Here we are practicing. (The final chain is more precise. For example, we finessed it so that he touched the ruler with his right paw.) Thanks to Scooter, I passed.

Lily is still the alert dog, and Scooter is the master of naps. Lily knows that Scooter sometimes needs the entire bed. That’s okay. That’s what best friends do.

Happy Birthday, Scooter!

Even before photoshop, people doctored images to get a laugh. What you see going on here is a delivery of poultry via horse power. Farmers were paid for their product by the wagonload. When a poultry dealer came to town and a long line of wagons would line up through main street, waiting their turn to be weighed. The gentleman that you see to the front of the photo is working the weights of the scale. Once a price was agreed upon, the crates of chickens would be put onto a freight train to take to processing near the city.

Recognize the breeds in this wagon? Barred feathers are found on a number of breeds, so they’re not necessarily Barred Rocks. Your guess is as good as mine. Chime in!