Wednesday, January 21, 2015

To Each Her Own

The hens, in their own yard, separate from the goats, eat their lay crumble eagerly, greedily. I set out two feeding stations, but there is still pushing, and pecking, and inevitably feathers are ruffled. Little Debbie rarely even tries to get into the buffet line. By now, she knows, she does not stand a chance between those big fat hens... a fate she had not foreseen. Wherever I feed her, a hen rushes in to chase her off, so these days Little Debbie takes her chances with the goats.

And the goats? In their own yard, separate from the hens, the goats are eating their chow eagerly, greedily. It's no use feeding them separately. They're too goat headed to do anything but push and strategize over their breakfast, lunch, and dinners, no matter how, or where, it's served, and Little Debbie just stands by, waiting for her chance to take a share.

They take sides... Tasha on the left, and Ada on the right. Always. No exceptions. Sometimes they start in opposite positions, and then, without fail, they realize that something is terribly wrong and in spite of the feeding frenzy they switch sides! And it's Tasha on the left, and Ada on the right. Always. It's Ada that usually initiates the switch, insists on her side, and Tasha has resigned herself to the arrangement. One thing they both agree on: No chickens at our buffet, so when hens pop over for a bite, Ada and Tasha stop butting heads with each other and turn their eyes on the offending bird.

They see you, Little Debbie.

The goats even butt their heads in the direction of the hen, but cannot aim low enough, or fast enough, and I think the chickens get the message... back off!

Must be too crowded at the chicken's buffet, here comes Liberty! Then Mako. They know when the goats are full, there will still be tasty bits to clean up from their feeder, so Li' Debbie, Liberty, and Mako wait for the goats to clear out.

But the goats will not be rushed, harried, or hassled. Mind yourself, Liberty. They're watching you.


No way.

Goats love oats, and alfalfa, and their chow. They love carrots, dried leaves, pumpkin, and evergreens... especially crisp and brittle. They swoon over black licorice.

Chickens love grass, and grass seeds, and goat chow, and their own lay crumble. They love cracked corn, tomatoes, flies, wriggly things they dig up, and veg from the garden.

I love rice pudding. And I do not share. Neither with goats, nor chickens. Nope. No way.

Monday, January 19, 2015

Picture Day For Ballet Folklórico

Maria was even happier to be in ballet folklórico when her friend, Nathalie, joined, too.

Maria loves to dance, {You may have noticed!} but it's been a long time since she's had a class. Last spring, at her school, there was a demonstration for a new class, ballet folklórico, that would be taught in the fall, and Maria was utterly enchanted with the prospect. They meet once a week, and what with breaks and holidays, she's had only four lessons, but the teacher is good, and the students are enthused, so they've made good progress. This day was for pictures, and a first chance for many, like Maria, to try on the traditional dresses and suits. Maria wore the blouse and heavy skirt, with many ribbons for Jalisco. I am thankful to have made a friend, too... another mother who is experienced with the traditions, and expectations, like gelling that hair way back! There are more things to learn, for Maria, and for me, and so far it's fun. And beautiful. The dresses, the ribbons, the music and steps... it's pretty, romantic, and touching to see young girls standing confidently, learning about themselves. Twirling was irresistible. And for me, taking lots and lots of pictures was irresistible. Pictures for the abuelas and tias, and tios, too... I am excited to share these happy moments. And when I get the date for their first performance, I will be sure and tell those doting grandmothers to mark their calendars! Va ver baile!