I Think That I Shall Never See.....

   I can relate to Joyce Kilmer, who wrote Trees. As he penned the line: " I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree" he must have had his heart touched by nature. There is a certain something about God's floral offerings that makes me wax poetic too. (and I'm NO poet!)

   There are many trees on Milagro Acres. The one that has touched my heart, though, is and old and twisted plum tree. I first became acquainted with this tree when the remodel was taking place. The tree grows directly in front of the kitchen window. When the deck was being built, there was discussion about whether the tree should go or stay, as it was going to compromise the building of the deck.

   Begin married to a forest ranger, I was never very worried about the tree. Somehow I knew the tree would win out over the deck. Sure enough, while vigorous trimming had to occur, the tree still grows and blooms outside the kitchen window.
 
  The very first time I really took notice of my "God" tree, it was filled with blooms and alive with millions of bees. It was an occasion that filled the senses. The beauty of the pink blossoms. brilliant in the sun was a feast for the eyes.  Than of course there is the song of the bees. The entire tree sounded like a room full of people praying in tongues. It was truly heavenly. The third sense that was touched that day was the sense of smell. It was wonderful. As I gazed at that tree, set in a background of brilliant morning sun, I was called to give praise to a God who loves us so lavishly.

   I grew up in the Texas panhandle, and what trees are there must be nurtured through hot dry summers, windy falls, miserably cold winters and tornado filled springs. Yet there is beauty in the prairie too.There are brilliant sunsets, prairie flowers, and prairie sounds.  I first learned to praise the God of creation as I stood watching a windmill bring fresh water to thirsty cattle. Somehow, the windmill has become my personal symbol of the Holy Spirit. Wind driven, it brings life-giving water to a parched and desolate soul. The soul of the person, and the soul of the land.

   Back to my God tree. Once the blooms were dispersed, the tree gave shade to the kitchen. The humming birds fed eagerly at the feeder nestled in the trees branches. In the fall, when the rains come, the tree seems to change colors. It becomes a silvery grey, somewhat like the rain clouds that dominate our winter weather. By mid-Winter  the branches are covered with hoar frost. Then the tree limbs boast a  lustery sheen that makes them appear luminescent in the soft morning sun. My favorite vision of the God tree, though is when the dew is dripping from every branch and each little twig. That is when the tree appears to be brillianty lit with tiny, sparkling, lights that shimmer in the grey morning light. As the sun gets higher in the sky, the droplets begin to dissipate, but not before I get a chance to once again praise a God that creates such beauty and mystery, right in front of my kitchen window.

   I think that I shall never see a poem (or much of anything else) that is as lovely as a tree. Thank you God, for putting me in lush, green Oregon. Praise you, God, for placing me in the Texas panhandle where another kind of natural beauty first called me to see you as the Divine Gardner. 

Drama, Trauma and Tragedy at the Chicken House

     By late spring, the feathered creatures had become mature fowl. Because the chicken coop was so far away from the ponds that the ducks couldn't see them or hear them, we had to continue using the kiddy pool. It had to be cleaned  and filled every other day. This was time consuming and back breaking. 

   The time had come to introduce the water fowl to the pond! One bright, sunny morning, we herded the ducks toward the pond closest to the house. It wasn't difficult....but it was slow going.  When we finally reached the pond area, I expected the ducks to take off  running in eager antcipation of a B-I-G  pool in which to play! Ah, contraire!  They took one look at all that water and headed for home. Another lesson learned: water fowl raised away from the water do not naturally take to swimming in big, scary bodies of water. We herded the ducks back to the pond area, where they cowered under the trees, near the water, but not in it. We left them dabbling in the puddles of water that remained in the tree area.

    When the sun set, I worried about the ducks. Were they safe? Should we bring them back to the chicken coop? After lengthy discussing, we decided that they were ducks! They should know instinctively that they are safe in the water, they should love the water, they will adjust....yadda, yadda, yadda.

    In the morning, we found BaRack cowering under the trees, but LeQuack was nowhere to be found. Rocky and Rosy were also missing. I refused to think the worst!  We found Rocky back in the chicken house cozily munching on ground corn and chatting with the chickens. Rosy was nowhere to be found. Jim finally located what was left of LeQuack in the creek bed. Alas, because of our ignorance, some four footed critter had enjoyed a late evening dinner. I was devastated. We returned BaRack to the hen house, where he lived for about a year, before being captured by "something"  during his nightly dip in the kiddy pool. Rosy was never seen again. Rocky lived, slept and ate with the chickens. We wondered if he would ever be a true Mallard, swimming and playing in the pond, as I had first imagined that Easter so long ago.

   Minnie, the guinea became the boss of the farm-yard. When she screeched, the chickens, the duck and the people paid attention. Guineas are really skitterish, so it doesn't take much to set them off. It takes a LOT to shut them off, however. I grew to love her ear splitting screech. I knew she would warn us if danger was afoot. Due to natural selection and attrition, our little flock had changed over the summer, but the critters that remained cheerily greeted us every morning. Seeing their joy at just being alive made me appreciate even more the wonderful life God had given us. In my prayer, I rejoiced  that we had become so blessed.

   One bright, sunshiny day, as I walked around the place.....   

Chickens and Ducks and CATS...Oh My.

Taking care of the feathered creatures was not our only concern at Milagro Acres. Reconstruction had begun on the real house, there were acres of grass to mow, yard to tend and flowers to plant. There was always another chore waiting to be done.

One day we found Ditto, the least domesticated of the five original cats, lying at our front door. This was a phenomena, because we had as yet been unable to get near him. He hung back at feeding time, and ate only when we disappeared from his view. Never had we gotten close enough to actually touch him. Yet, here he was, lying at our door, looking at us with pathetic, sad eyes.  

As we approached Ditto to see what was going on...he skittered away. It was immediately obvious that he had come to us for help. His back leg was hanging loose and at an odd angle. This little critter was in pain! We discussed the situation and agreed that the least we should do is have him examined and weigh the options. Good plan! Now all we had to do was catch him. After several disastrous and unsuccessful attempts, we got a fish net on a long pole and captured the poor guy. 

Jim called from the Veterinarian's office to ask how much, monetarily, I thought the cat was worth. I gave him a figure, but we had already exceeded that amount. In the end, a decision was made to try to salvage the leg and give the animal another chance at life.

Several days later, Ditto came home with a repaired and "pinned" leg. To better feed and care for him, we kept the patient  in a crate outside the door. On about the third day, Jim went to open the cage to medicate the little guy. The ungrateful wretch bit him in the hand and made a run for it!

Once he was free, you can bet the "scairdy cat"  did not come close to the house for several weeks, though we could watch him come in to the feeder at night when he thought he was safe.

Now, several years after the traumatic events,  whenever the cats are having breakfast, Jim will smile and say: " I still think it was worth it. Just to watch Ditto run free and climb trees makes me glad we had his leg repaired."  (He thinks I haven't heard him call the silly feline Thousand Dollars every chance he gets!)

Sadly, the mortality rate for the feathered creatures was not so optimistic.

The Critters Get a Home

The critters grew rapidly. It was time to find a place for them to live that was meant for birds, not people. Just across our property line was an old abandoned chicken house. Jim was able to contact the absentee owner, and got permission for us to use the old building. "Good luck," said the owner. "We gave up trying to raise anything out there. Sooner or later they all got eaten by....well..by something!"
We decided to give it a try. We cleaned out most of the debris stored in the shed, and moved our little feathered family into their new digs. The chickens loved the fresh straw. I laughed out loud to see them literally run from one corner to another, scratching and pecking at everything in sight. The guineas, the world's most skitterish fowl, screeched and flew around and acted crazy. I reveled in all of it! The Divine Creator certainly came up with a doozie when the guinea was conceived. The ducks, LeQuack and BaRack were less enthusiastic. They seemed to be annoyed at the noise and chatter. The mallards, Rocky and Rosy adapted more qickly, but they were a little smaller, and could get out of the way more easily. As I stood transfixed, I wondered aloud, "What have we gotten ourselves into?"
We had found an acceptable home for the critters. Time would reveal that the "fun" had only just begun!

Vision versus Reality

A favorite gift at our house is something that breathes (animal, vegetable, or floral). We are especially into living gifts at Easter, to further symbolize our excitement that He lives! The plan I "hatched" for Jim's Easter gift, shortly after the arrival of the wood ducks was....ducks. I could already see them floating blissfully in the pond, adding color and life to it. The visual was a little more exciting than reality!

After a little searching, I was able to find two newly hatched ducklings, just in time for Easter giving!  They were adorable, and Jim loved them. He liked them so much that he went back to the store on Easter Monday and came home with more critters... some banty chicks, a pair of mallard ducklings, and a pair of guineas. I grew up with guineas at my home in Texas, so Jim thought they would be a neat surprise for me. A short time after this major addition to our little place, Jim was called to Illinois to help with respite care for his mother who was very ill. That left me holding the box of quackers!

The thing that sometimes gets overlooked on these occasions are the care and feeding of critters. Because we really didn't have a place set up for this fledgling flock, they ended up in the house. I hasten to explain that at the time we were living in a small apartment attached to the main house while we did major remodeling on the other place.. The ducklings began their life in the "old" house bathtub, and the chicks were under a heat lamp in a child size plastic swimming pool  in the "old" living room. Sounds simple enough....BUT....guineas are wild creatues. In about two days they had figured out that getting out of the swimming pool was a piece of cake. God had given them wings, afterall.  Chasing them around the room got tiresome very quickly. Along with a fish net, I also acquired some wire fencing to cover the pool. The ducklings, in the meantime, were thriving in the bathtub. O my, how they did smell!

Critters grow rapidly. In a very short time, the ducklings needed more room.. I managed to build a sort of three-cornored fence under a tree in the back yard. That of course meant figuring out a method for feeding and watering them. That didn't seem too difficult until I discovered that the ducks would rather play in water than drink it. I would fill the water pan... they would dirty it and empty it. It seemd a never-ending cycle.

By the time Easter Season had come to an end, we had come to love our little feathered family. We also had many lessons yet to learn.