Kit Cat

Kit cat is finding this hot summer rather taxing. To avoid the heat she either digs herself under a rhododendron bush in the front yard, hides under the sofa or drapes herself across the top of an armchair to avail herself of the updraft from the fan.

When the weather cools down somewhat she'll walk behind the other cats and swat them on the back of their hind legs which causes them to launch into orbit. Otherwise she can be found admiring herself in mirrors.

She is so laid back that she didn't even mind having "Ratty" an eco rat made from recycled plastic bottles, snuggle up to her one evening. Lets face it to get rid of him would have involved moving a few inches sideways and she was too exhausted from sleeping to do that.

I always feel a bit of a fraud having such a glamour puss in my house as I tend to have quirky and mentally disturbed felines but Kit was gifted to me nearly six years ago when her owners returned to live in the Netherlands. Despite my common ways Kit manages to tolerate me. Mostly.

Hot Summer Days

It has been an incredibly hot summer in Hawkes Bay so far. Two days ago it was 40oC in the carport at the back of my cottage which really stressed the animals. I made sure Stig the goat and Briar donkey were tethered under the old oak tree in my garden with fresh water for the day while the baby bunnies snuggled next to a container of ice that I keep in my freezer for such heatwaves.

At three weeks of age Ivory's six remaining babies were still spending a certain amount of time in their nest box although they made forays out into the cage to chase their mother round for milk. You'd see them upended with fluffy feet in the air trying to sneak a milk shake before she was alerted to what was going on and hopped away.

At four weeks they were really getting stuck into pellets which took some strain off their poor mother. This also meant they were growing at a great rate. Already personalities are beginning to shine through with the white kits being slightly more shy than their siblings.

There are a couple of cheeky individuals who like posing for a photo so I'm hoping they grow up into good woolers as well. At this stage though I just enjoy watching their interactions with each other and am amazed at how quickly they've learned that I am "food woman".

A Tale of Two Broodies

New Year's Eve a visiting friend walked in and said "Do you know that there's a hen and chicks out there?" I immediately thought of Mohawk and her two month old offspring but no, Gabriella, a black hen with a stubborn streak had arrived with a fresh clutch of many small fluffies. We counted nine with her plus two brownish ones further up the drive which Gwendolyn, the descendent of Squidgey my Old English Game Fowl, promptly stole and sat on. We managed to fill a bucket with babies before clearing a cage to keep them safe in. Gabriella was easy to wrangle as she was hungry after three weeks brooding.

The next morning I went outside to find one small brown chick outside the cage and the other small browny bumblebee down the drive. Threw them back in with Gabriella but later that day she became aggressive and chased them out again while Gwendolyn took them into the garden. Which is when I realised that they were actually Gwen's chickens. I had had two broodies walk out the same day which led to all the confusion.

Later that day one of Gabriella's chicks escaped and a visitor, not sure of what went where, threw it in with Gwendolyn who promptly sat down on it. As Gabby had eight still with her I decided to let Gwen keep her adopted baby and she has done a beautiful job raising it.

Meanwhile Mohawk's chicks arrived at their two month birthday without many problems although the one she had stepped on at a week of age was still struggling with walking. However she began hopping about on one leg quite happily and would peck visitor's toes to try and get them to feed her. All was going well until I found her dead in the cage one morning with her mother standing on her. The five remaining chicks are now ranging around the garden on their own and their mother has returned to the hen house.

I have spoken to the remainder of the flock quite sternly about constantly going broody which has succeeded in frightening three eggs out of them. I am hopeful that I may yet get enough for a fresh summer omelet.