I popped out to the lottie check things out. I walked through the gate and towards the garden house. There on the bench was one of my honey bottles returned by a happy customer…full of plum jam that they made themselves. Is that sweet er wot. After the rounds, I plopped down on the bench to contemplate my next move…and what did I see. Yeah, ole Bart Black— no doubt scoping the bird situation out. We looked at each-other for a while then he stood up and very casually walked towards the gate and up the path he went. He was behind the house, doing who knows what. That’s the thing with cats innit— their body language. They are manipulators, opportunists…takers and ignorers. They show the bare minimum of fake affection to keep the goodies coming and the litter box clean. Humans want to be shone attention and we want to believe that they care, so they keep getting away with their extortion. False actors. “Sure, talk big”, the Bride says. “When one of ours had to be put to sleep, you stood there with a knot in your throat”. It was like the time when I; after talking mean about the local magpies and what I would do to them if I ever got hold of one, we came upon one of those black and white monsters hung up in a neighbour’s net. I said yeah, yeah let. Him sit the stoat will be along in a moment. The Bride looked and I said, “Alright then, bring me the scissors and I will cut him free….annnnd bring the sècateurs”. She wanted to know why and I mentioned decapitation. She returned with the scissors and I began carefully and slowly removing the tight netting which was around its neck feet and one wind. That beast had panicked and was in a bad way. My footsteps wound it up all over again. So then, I began by freeing its head, as it was choking it. Then the wing, before he broke it with his hysterical flapping and flouncing. Then the legs and feet with the little needle-nails. The thankless dinosaur constantly pinched the skin of my fingers and hand as I worked. Finally it was free and squawking like a nutcase. I grasped it between two hands snugly, I turned it sideways and waited until he stopped trying to eat my knuckles. We looked at each-other and I released it, calling after it to be careful next time. On the way to our garden the Bride reminded me of my harsh words and what I was going to do to one should I ever got the chance. I just said that it would be different next time. She further remarked at how gentle I had worked to get it free. I just hurmf-ed I guess you can’t take my cat comments too seriously then. Moving right along: All those Wisteria leaves under the sitting bench were part of my work schedule. I moved the bench and saw these little guys hanging out until spring. I saw Black-eyed Susans in bloom! Ok, they are stunted, but the blooms were opening. Too crazy. Finally, back home I had a look at the Blauhilda’s, drying on the freezer. Have a look: Many of the beans are brownish. I am wondering if they are viable. Any of you seed collectors have opinions on their viability? We are making a huge pot of chilli, so I am going to sign off.
You're kind hearted in the end, it's difficult to kill anything no matter how much they destroy your produce, i hope that the chilli made up for it.
Very nice reading there, Mr. Sjoerd! You are a kind and gentle man. I suspect the brown skinned beans will be OK. I have some beans that have developed different colored seeds, and they all grow fine. Also, some of my white skinned bush bean seeds are stained by the pod degrading slightly before I dried them. They grew fine too. You could always wrap a couple in a wet paper towel, put them in a container so they don't dry out, and see if they sprout...
Good evening Danie. Thanks for your bean ideas. I really stopped saving seeds after my first five years of gardening. So I especially was interested in hearing your experienced ideas. The thing with these beans is that I received the plantlets late in juli. When I had harvested some meals I stopped harvesting and waited for the beans to max out and go brown and crispy. The weather went cool early this year and the rain did not let up. The result is that I had to harvest the beans before they were brown and the shell was waterlogged and soft. I dried the whole batch in the pantry, then shelled the bean seeds and let then further dry out. Of course I will try different things with small amounts of seeds. The white ones I will just plant as usual. I is helpful to hear your opinions. Fingers crossed on this project. I do wonder if these beans will have been cross-pollenated.
This is a lovely story Sjoerd, and made us laugh. We have Ruffed Grouse here. A wild chicken we call them. We let them flourish here, and watch them walking the willows in winter eating buds. Like everything, they cycle. When we have a lot of fox, the next year we don't have many rabbits or grouse. When we go a year lean of rabbits and grouse, we have less fox. They are clueless birds, and get used to humans and cars. The big joke with the kids is that we eat road kill, because a couple times a year one gets bonked by our truck or flies into a big window. Only the breast meat is eaten ( very scrawny ) so usually ones that we accidently kill are enjoyed. We both grew up on them being part of the hunting season menu, but we do not partake as adults. My pea netting fence around the Haskap Berries accidently caught a grazing grouse in the fall. Hubby noticed and I went to inspect. We carefully unwrapped the entanglement and because it was so recent, there were minimal injuries. Just a few cuts. We were silently communicating the whole time....( this would taste sooo good), but we let her go. When they run away, they put their head down like a road runner and run faster than they fly into the bushes. We checked to make sure she wasn't injured, and couldn't find her in her perfect camouflage. Then we both puffed up like a male grouse and said we should have enjoyed that bird on the menu...and we were getting soft. We swore each other to secrecy from our children. And now when we see one, we think - maybe that's her. And maybe she will have a clutch of eggs. Magpies are tough to love - that is for sure. But good for you for rescuing a victim of circumstance, instead of having a hand in it's demise. Proud of you my friend ( although I'm sure no where near as proud as your Bride was. )
Melody and Sjoerd I loved your stories. I know wildlife can be very frustrating sometimes. I see my little chipmunk in the raspberries fairly often. I just look the other way. He/she can have the lower ones. However many times I come out to find 1 bite out of a potato! They could at least eat it all instead of wasting it! It's those times I feel like doing something with that silly little critter. Last year it didn't happen, but my potatoes also didn't bloom so maybe the blooms are what tell them it's time to dig.
Sjoerd, you sound like me when I'm yelling at the rabbits in my yard. I like when the dog chases them away, and I cuss whenever I see the damage they have done to my garden. One day there was one in the veggie garden, and when it saw us approaching it tried to run through the fence and got stuck! I could have let the dog at it, but as much as I hate the rabbits, I still can't stand to see an animal hurt/killed/suffering. I dragged the dog back to the house and got hubby to come out with the wire cutters and set it free. I just hope that it learned a lesson and stays out of my veggie garden!
Mel— so gad you two could laugh a bit at the story. Heck, I laugh at myself all the time, and if I don’t, my Bride laughs at me. Hahaha. I see how the natural cycles go there, I notice cycles with our garden pests here as well— rabbits, mice, rats, moles and the like. Great grouse story. I can almost recall their taste. It has been years ago now…back when I was younger and used to hunt seasonal animals with family members. Squirrels, various birds and there was the big rabbit drive on the farm of my agrarian family every few years. The farmers’ code was though— If you shoot it, you eat it. I don’t hunt anymore now. I got a Cute Christmas card this year from a family member who remembers my Nimrodian exploits. Why teddy bears at x- mas, you ask? It’s because it was a Christmas Day tradition after the lunch togo out hunting. I thought that it was funny listing those ‘weapons’. I looked up the words. Haha You could be right about the pride thing. I dunno. Willow— you have your own thing with wildlife marauder's too, I see. You have a kind place in your heart. Flowers are a sign for me as well…but I do not always wait because our voles are ruthless. That and the fact that my Bride can be impatient. Netty— great story. I don’t feel so wimpy now.
