George is one of my clients. He’s developed a skin condition on his legs. It’s very itchy.

George thanks me for my care.

Animals do express gratitude, but we humans are often dull to what they are telling us. One reason that my animals talk to me is that I stay focused on them. I often see people at the barn talking with their friends while grooming their horses. I prefer to socialize only with my horse. (Later I’ll chat with my human friends.) Maybe it comes from those years of not being able to hear very well. I had to listen hard to the one being that I was trying to communicate with. Horses are not verbal, they’re all about touch and nuances of movement. I could “hear” them. Pay close attention. There’s a lot they’re telling you by a shift in weight and the flick of an ear.

The inside of George’s legs itch. I rub with a sisal mitt and I can feel him slightly press against my hand. His head drops. His lip relaxes. He looks at me with a soft eye. He’s told me Yes, there. He reaches around and blows on me, eyes relaxed, ears to the sides. George says Thank you.

Many people believe that you create a relationship via training. I agree that you can open lines of communication and build trust, especially if you train using a marker and food rewards. (Often called clicker training.) But, if you don’t listen, even that training can be stressful, ineffective or anxiety-provoking. Don’t even begin until you know how your horse says thank you.

The Beast, my old koi, lives year round in a large water feature with her minions (goldfish and goldfish/koi crosses.) The pond has a pump designed to circulate water in all seasons. Even when the surface freezes, below the ice there’s fresh, oxygenated water for the fish. However, as we head into winter, there are adjustments to make. Koi shouldn’t eat when the water gets too cold because their metabolism slows down and they can’t digest food. If their stomachs are full of food when it’s cold in the pond, they’ll burst from the activity of microbes in their guts. So, when we see frost on the ground, we start to monitor the temperature of the water. When it gets below 50°F we switch to a fall feed. When it gets below 39°F we stop feeding altogether.

The Beast continues to swim around the pond, but we’re no longer tossing her fish food.

However, others continue to want to eat in the pond. This time of year we see transient migratory Great Blue Herons.

This one got in as deep as it could.

The Beast knows what to do. Do you see her peering out from her cave? She’s survived for the last dozen years. Savvy fish.

I made lemon pie. I squeezed out the juice with this tool (if you use citrus in cooking, it’s a must-have.) I was left with a bowl full of rinds. The chickens don’t like them. Citrus peels don’t compost easily – after six months they’re still visible, lumpy in the bin. But I have two boys who can’t get enough of them.

Pip is the goat that eats things he shouldn’t (let’s hope he never tries rhododendrons again!) so just because he’s enthusiastic about them, doesn’t mean it’s a good idea for him to help clean up the peels.

Caper is the cautious, smart goat. He doesn’t eats what he shouldn’t. He loves lemon peels, too.

I would never have thought of giving the goats citrus, but a friend who’s an experienced dairy goat keeper told me that it’s a treat that they wag their tails for. She was right.

More please!

I was all set to write a post about how Twiggy is going into a visible, full molt. Last week I took this photograph of her, with loose feathers all askew. See them at the top of her leg and at the base of her tail? They’re falling out.

I waited to do this post, figuring that by this morning, the coop would be ankle-deep in white feathers – proof that even Twiggy needs to go through her yearly molt. However, I didn’t find feathers. I found this.

Twiggy’s last egg was laid on November 16. It’s been exactly three weeks, which for this White Leghorn over-achiever was a long enough rest. No matter that tomorrow the sunset is the earliest it’ll be all year (just after 4 pm) and I don’t turn on a lightbulb at night. Twiggy is back in production. I’m not surprised that it’s not a standard two-ounce large egg. This one weighed in at over three ounces!

(By the way, if you’re looking for a gift for a chicken keeper, you can’t go wrong with a digital scale. It’s fun and informative to weigh eggs.)

The shell was thin as the finest porcelain, but the inside of the egg was normal. There were two visible whites (yes, there are two in fresh eggs, one around the other, one thinner, one thicker) and a yolk that was a lovely dark color (the Girls have been eating squash) and upright.

It was delicious.

I don’t know whether this was a one-off or if she’ll keep laying. I so enjoyed having a good egg for breakfast, but I’d also like to see Twiggy replace those ragged tail feathers with new ones. As with so much of animal keeping, time will tell.

Last week I had a bit of a Martha Stewart Moment. I typically don’t go in for the sort of extravagant creations that this decorating maven is known for. But, awhile back, in a style magazine I saw an idea that I liked – using gourds for vases filled with flowers, I used that inspired idea and changed it up a bit. I bought three buttercup squashes, three small pots of fresh herbs, and some delicate cut flowers. I lopped the tops off of the squash, removed the mushy seeds and strings and scraped them out just enough so that the pots of herbs fit in the centers without tipping. I lined them with tin foil, which held water long enough so that I could add the flowers, which would then stay fresh for the Pie Party.

It took more work that I anticipated, but I loved the result.

If I do say so myself, I think they’re the prettiest Thanksgiving centerpieces I’ve ever made.

I selected squash, not gourds, because I was thinking about what would happen to them after the party. I knew who’d appreciate them after the flowers wilted. Happy Belated Thanksgiving, Ladies!