When I was growing up, we always watched out for snakes. The thought process in our family was that the only good snake was a dead snake! The only poisonous snakes in that part of Virginia are rattlesnakes and copperheads, although the only snake that we ever saw was either a garter snake or a black snake.
My grandpa always told me that the snake that I had to worry about the most was the dreaded hoop snake. He said that it looks just like a black snake, until it gets mad at you. Then it will bite its own tail, form a hoop and roll after you! He said that they only way you could escape from the rolling hoop snake was to run up a hill!
Did you ever have an encounter with a hoop snake?
Showing posts with label Animals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Animals. Show all posts
Friday, December 13, 2013
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Photos of the Week
While driving around this weekend, I happen to go by a vacant lot that was covered in blooming teasel and there were HUNDREDS of butterflies! I rushed home, grabbed my camera, and hurried back to take some photos of these beautiful creatures.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Wildlife Encounter
This morning on my way to work, I suddenly could not remember whether I had removed Ozzy's collar. I knew that I would worry about it all day, so even though I was already a couple of miles from home, I turned around and went back. Of course, I had taken the collar off, but I can be a bit OCD about things, so to avoid worrying, I had to check!
Leaving home for the second time this morning, I heard a big commotion in the pine trees beside our driveway. While I was trying to see what was going on, a scream pierced the quiet morning and a Red-tailed Hawk swooped over my head in the direction of the pine trees. There was another mad scramble in the pine trees and a crow vacated the pines in a hurry, cawing. The hawk and crow continued creating quite a ruckus, swooping back and forth, fighting and crying out.
I ran back in the house to get my camera and then I walked underneath the pine trees to see if I could figure out what was creating the stir. I had thought that maybe there was a nest that they were fighting over. Fortunately, I was wearing my new glasses, so I could actually see!
This is what I saw in the tree.
For a few seconds, I could not figure out what I was seeing. Then it hit me: It was one of the many owls that I hear hooting at night! I made a noise to try to get it to look at me.
Isn't it a beauty? I'm not sure if this Barred Owl is a male or female because unless you see them together, it is difficult to distinguish the difference. The females are about a 1/3 bigger than males.
While I was looking at it and taking bunches of photos, the crow and hawk continued to fight with each other. After the hawk flew directly at the crow and almost hit him, the crow cawed a couple more times and flew away. I think that the hawk then lost interest, because he left too. He probably didn't go far because we do have several red-tail hawks that I think live in the woods behind our house because I hear and see them often. I don't know if the owl was involved in the whole scene or if it was just an innocent bystander. The crow and hawk both were flying pretty close to the owl and the owl would get all ruffled up.
I wanted to watch longer, but I was already running a bit late for work and I just barely made it on time. Even though I live in Roanoke City, I am so fortunate to have acres of National Park Service/Blue Ridge Parkway woods behind my house because I sure do get to see lots of wildlife. I see more living here than I did when I lived in the country in Meadows of Dan!
Copyright 2013--All Rights Reserved--The Wheel & Distaff by Kimberly Burnette-Dean
Leaving home for the second time this morning, I heard a big commotion in the pine trees beside our driveway. While I was trying to see what was going on, a scream pierced the quiet morning and a Red-tailed Hawk swooped over my head in the direction of the pine trees. There was another mad scramble in the pine trees and a crow vacated the pines in a hurry, cawing. The hawk and crow continued creating quite a ruckus, swooping back and forth, fighting and crying out.
I ran back in the house to get my camera and then I walked underneath the pine trees to see if I could figure out what was creating the stir. I had thought that maybe there was a nest that they were fighting over. Fortunately, I was wearing my new glasses, so I could actually see!
This is what I saw in the tree.
 |
| Photo by Kimberly Burnette-Dean |
For a few seconds, I could not figure out what I was seeing. Then it hit me: It was one of the many owls that I hear hooting at night! I made a noise to try to get it to look at me.
 |
| Photo by Kimberly Burnette-Dean |
While I was looking at it and taking bunches of photos, the crow and hawk continued to fight with each other. After the hawk flew directly at the crow and almost hit him, the crow cawed a couple more times and flew away. I think that the hawk then lost interest, because he left too. He probably didn't go far because we do have several red-tail hawks that I think live in the woods behind our house because I hear and see them often. I don't know if the owl was involved in the whole scene or if it was just an innocent bystander. The crow and hawk both were flying pretty close to the owl and the owl would get all ruffled up.
I wanted to watch longer, but I was already running a bit late for work and I just barely made it on time. Even though I live in Roanoke City, I am so fortunate to have acres of National Park Service/Blue Ridge Parkway woods behind my house because I sure do get to see lots of wildlife. I see more living here than I did when I lived in the country in Meadows of Dan!
Copyright 2013--All Rights Reserved--The Wheel & Distaff by Kimberly Burnette-Dean
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Cats!
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| Mr. Ike AKA Sir Puss-A-Lot |
You can break a cat from the habit of catching birds by burning a match and rubbing the charred matchstick three times on the cat's nose.
If you butter the front paws of a cat, once it has licked it all off, it will never leave home.
If you put a new kitten under the covers of your bed and let it crawl out on its own, it will never run away from home.
When a cat bathes its rear end, notice which way its leg is pointing. That will indicate the direction that your next visitors will be coming from.
Spell "mouse trap" using only three letters. (see answer below)
If a cat sits with its back to a fire, you can count on a cold spell coming soon.
If you kick a cat, you will get rheumatis' in that leg.
If you are unmarried and you step on a cat's tail, you know that you will not get married in the upcoming year.
If a cat keeps on looking out the window, rain is on the way.
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| Phantom J. |
People in Tennessee call little gray cats "kittens" just like everyone else.
You spell "mouse trap" with only three letters like this: "C-A-T" (unless they are my cats and they only play with the mice.)
Copyright 2012--All Rights Reserved--The Wheel & Distaff by Kimberly Burnette-Dean.
Copyright 2012--All Rights Reserved--The Wheel & Distaff by Kimberly Burnette-Dean.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Foxy Loxy
Some neighbors came by to visit with us,
so of course,
I had to take some photos!
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| "Wait . . . what are you sitting on? Let me see!" |
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| "Hmmmmm . . . isn't it just about supper time?" |
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| "Hey! LOOK! There is a human with a funny little box thing in her hand!" |
Friday, December 30, 2011
Pilgrim Geese
When I worked at Virginia's Explore Park, one of my jobs was to care for the historic breeds of farm animals. While there were aspects of animal care that were not exactly fun, it was one of my favorite tasks. All of the animals that we had were minor breed animals. (For more about minor or rare breeds, click here.)
The Park had geese from the time it opened in 1994 until 2006. Over that time span, I allowed the geese to hatch out goslings three or four times. The goslings went to other historical parks like Booker T Washington National Monument in Franklin County, Virginia. One year, I had the heartbreak of coming in one morning only to find that some wild critter had managed to get into the goose pen and kill all of the goslings. We thought that we had the pens wired up like Fort Knox, but fowl-eating creatures are a sneaky lot and they can gain entrance at the most tiny of places.
Hansel, the big white goose that I am holding in the photo below, was my love. He could be a real meany and he was not really discriminating about who he would chase and bite and that included me as well as co-workers and park visitors. I still have scars on my legs where he would bite me and take a chunk of hide with him! While some of my co-workers took to calling him "Lucifer", I really had to respect him. He was protecting his mate, family and territory. He was simply being a good goose, doing goosey things. In an effort to make him more friendly to his caretakers, I jokingly gave him what I called "Goose Therapy". This involved catching and petting him on a regular basis no matter how much he seemed to dislike it in the beginning. You can see in the photo, he is not trying to bite me and he would actually nuzzle his head against me after SEVERAL sessions of goose therapy!
As financial problems began to plague the park and the closing of the park was looking more and more like a reality, I had to find homes for all of the farm animals. The geese went to a farm in Bedford County. I think about all of the animals often, but Hansel especially. It is very likely that he could still be alive since Pilgrim Geese can live to be 40 years old Hansel was only 15 when I had to say goodbye.
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, six geese a-layin, five golden rings, four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree.
The Park had geese from the time it opened in 1994 until 2006. Over that time span, I allowed the geese to hatch out goslings three or four times. The goslings went to other historical parks like Booker T Washington National Monument in Franklin County, Virginia. One year, I had the heartbreak of coming in one morning only to find that some wild critter had managed to get into the goose pen and kill all of the goslings. We thought that we had the pens wired up like Fort Knox, but fowl-eating creatures are a sneaky lot and they can gain entrance at the most tiny of places.
Hansel, the big white goose that I am holding in the photo below, was my love. He could be a real meany and he was not really discriminating about who he would chase and bite and that included me as well as co-workers and park visitors. I still have scars on my legs where he would bite me and take a chunk of hide with him! While some of my co-workers took to calling him "Lucifer", I really had to respect him. He was protecting his mate, family and territory. He was simply being a good goose, doing goosey things. In an effort to make him more friendly to his caretakers, I jokingly gave him what I called "Goose Therapy". This involved catching and petting him on a regular basis no matter how much he seemed to dislike it in the beginning. You can see in the photo, he is not trying to bite me and he would actually nuzzle his head against me after SEVERAL sessions of goose therapy!
As financial problems began to plague the park and the closing of the park was looking more and more like a reality, I had to find homes for all of the farm animals. The geese went to a farm in Bedford County. I think about all of the animals often, but Hansel especially. It is very likely that he could still be alive since Pilgrim Geese can live to be 40 years old Hansel was only 15 when I had to say goodbye.
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| Me and Hansel |
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| Lilly warns me to back off from her babies by hissing |
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| Hansel would do more than hiss at me for getting close. He would BITE! |
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| Hello! Ain't I cute? |
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| This is how to swim, children. |
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, six geese a-layin, five golden rings, four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Christmas Lore--Day 2
Christmas Superstitions
Take nine holly leaves and tie into a handkerchief with nine knots and put it under your pillow to dream of the future. (It might be less painful if you use smooth-leaf holly!)
At midnight on Christmas Eve, it is said that animals kneel down to adore the new-born King and that they also have the power of speech. (Several years ago, I did go to the barn to see what the sheep and pigs were doing. Guess what? They were looking at me like "HEY! You are here at a strange time of night, but since you are here, why not give us some feed?" They did not have to speak to get that message across to me!)
Bees are said to assemble on Christmas Eve and hum a Christmas hymn BUT, if you hear them, you will die within the year.
On Christmas Eve, all water turns to wine. BUT, if you go look, you will die within the year.
**There is something that I have always wondered about these superstitions: When they mention "Christmas Eve" are they referring to Dec 24 or Old Christmas Eve on Jan 5? Since it seems like a potential deadly venture, I would advise you to avoid trying to see if these things happen on either night!
Sunday, July 17, 2011
How to Save a Chicken
In 1993, I was working at the Humpback Rocks Mountain Farm at Milepost 5.8 on the Blue Ridge Parkway. On the farm I interpreted life in 1890 by doing many of the things women would have been doing. I took care of an heirloom garden, made quilts, did spinning, weaving, knitting, & dyeing, cooked in a fireplace and took care of a flock of chickens.
I always tried to make sure that I removed all of the eggs from the chicken coop on a daily basis, especially after one of the hens started getting broody. Well, she was a sneaky hen and before I realized what she was doing, she was setting on a nest full of eggs. At that point, I did not have any idea how long she had been setting and the thoughts of throwing away eggs that already had developing chicks inside made me very sad, so I decided to go ahead and let her hatch them. On the morning that I thought they were going to hatch, I arrived at work extra early and heard soft little peeps from inside the chicken coop before I could even get the door open.
There was the hen, still on the nest, with several little beady-eyed chicks peeking out from under her! I knew that the eggs might continue to hatch for awhile, so I went ahead and turned the other chickens out and fed and watered them. All day, I continue to go out and peek inside the coop. The little chicks were running around inside the coop and they were so cute! By early afternoon, the mother hen had left the nest and was running around with the other chickens down in the woods. I took the opportunity to see how many chicks there were and how many eggs were left. There were three eggs still in the nest. Two of them made an ominous slushy sound when I gently shook them. I knew those were as rotten as they could be, so I tossed them far up into the woods were they exploded with a loud "pop". When I picked up the third egg, I could tell that it was not a rotten egg. In fact, the egg had been "pipped" by the little chick inside. When I listened carefully, I could hear the little chick peeping inside! I gently replaced the egg in the nest, determined to let nature take its course. A couple hours after that, I went back to check on the egg. Nothing had changed. I picked the egg up and listened carefully. There was no movement inside the egg. There was still just a small crack in the shell. And I heard just a couple of very faint, weak peeps from inside the egg.
Well, I was just sure that since the hen had left the nest hours before, that the little chick was dying inside the egg without the warmth of its mothers body and that it was too weak to get out of the egg without assistance.
Yep. I peeled that little chick out of the egg. I had no idea that this was going to be a bit of a gross undertaking. I took a small towel and laid the little chick on it. It was too weak to stand up and it could barely peep. But it had its little eyes open. I knew that I needed to get it warm, so I wrapped it up and held it against my chest so that hopefully, my body heat would warm it up.
While all of this was going on, Parkway visitors were coming by the cabin and asking me why I was holding a dishtowel to my chest. I will never forget when I showed the little chick to one family, which included an elderly grandfather. He took one look at the chick, which was just laying in my hand, gasping for breath, and said, "That thing ain't gonna make it. Ya might as well just throw it in the woods!" That comment made me SO mad!
It got to be 5pm, which meant it was time to go home. I tried to sneak the little chick back into the nest with the other chicks, but the mother hen immediately started viciously pecking at the little orphaned chick. Now what?! There was nothing to do but to take the little thing home with me. After I got home, I was looking at the little chick, which was still to weak too stand up. I thought that maybe it was hungry. So, I mixed up some cornmeal & water and made a thick gruel. I force fed that little chick using an eye dropper. I was not very successful. (What I didn't know at the time was that chicks do not really eat in the first day or so of their life and there I was trying to force feed the little thing!) Well, I had no way to keep it warm, other than holding it against my body, so when I went to bed that night, I wrapped it up in a towel and held it against my chest as I slept.
When I left for work the next day, I held the little chick to my chest as I drove to work. I held that little chick all day long. When I was working in the garden, cooking in the fireplace, feeding the other chickens, talking to visitors, and working in the visitor center, all were done while holding the little chick. By late that day, the little chick was able to take a couple of wobbly steps, but it would fall over often. I held the little chick as I was eating my supper and as I slept that night. The only time I was not holding that chick was when I took a shower. This went on for several weeks.
Little did I know that I had created a little monster! Once the chick could walk, it followed me EVERYWHERE. It had to be with me 24/7 because it had imprinted on me and, in its eyes, I was its mother hen. Anytime that I got out of its sight, it would start peeping in the most desperate sounding chicken voice that I have ever heard. George, who was a volunteer at the visitor center helped me come up with a name. Since we didn't know if it was a boy or a girl, we decided on a name that could be either. So, now, the little chick was known as Sydney.
The only time that I ever left Sydney alone was when I took a shower or when I had to go into town to the grocery store. Somehow, I don't think that Kroger would have been understanding about me bringing my pet chicken into the store. Sydney even went on a three hour trip to Meadows of Dan every other week with me when I went home to visit my family. His favorite place to ride was perched on my hand which was resting on the top of the steering wheel. Needless to say, I got quite a few bizarre looks coming down I-81 from my fellow travelers!
The amazing thing about this little chick was that he would not go to the bathroom while I was holding him. He always waited until he got down onto the floor where I had newspapers spread. Sydney ate normal chicken scratch feed, but he also loved popcorn and Diet Pepsi. That chicken was CRAZY about Diet Pepsi and would keep on drinking it as long as I would give it to him. All he had to do was see me with a Diet Pepsi bottle and he would start dancing and peeping like a chicken possessed! At that point in my life, I did occasionally smoke and Sydney thought it was a great game to jump up on my lap, grab the cigarette out of my mouth with his beak, and take off with it, running through the house with a lit cigarette. Very dangerous, but funny too.
When I would take a shower, Sydney would always stand just outside of the shower stall peeping his little chicken head off. If I pulled the shower curtain to the side and looked out so that he could see me, he would stop peeping. But the minute I closed the curtain, he would start up again. By this time, Sydney was starting to get a few little feathers and he was starting to flap his tiny wings when he jumped up on things. So he would stand outside the shower desperately peeping and flapping his wings until I reappeared.
One morning, I was in the shower and Sydney was panicking as usual. All of a sudden, he got very quiet. I thought that he had finally figured out that there was no reason to be so upset. After I got out of the shower, I dried off and combed out my hair. I hollered for Sydney and he didn't come. I searched through the entire house and could not find Sydney anywhere. I was the one panicking now! Finally, I returned to the bathroom. I searched the bathroom again and that is when I glanced at the toilet. There was Sydney floating face down in the toilet bowl. He wasn't moving.
I screamed and grabbed him out of the water. He was not moving or breathing. I was screaming and crying and apologizing to him. I had killed my little sweet chicken because I was too stupid to close the lid on the toilet bowl.
I wondered if it was possible to do chicken CPR. I turned Sydney upside down and gently squeezed his tiny body. A bit of water bubbled out of his beak. So, I squeezed again and again until water stopped bubbling out. He still was not breathing or moving. So, I put his beak in my mouth and breathed a very gentle puff of air into his lungs. Then I squeezed him again. Then another puff of air. Squeeze. Puff. Squeeze. Puff. All of a sudden Sydney let loose with a cross between a sneeze and a cough and he stood up!!!!!
I had saved Sydney from death a second time!
 |
| Humpback Rocks Mountain Farm--Blue Ridge Parkway--Milepost 5.8 |
I always tried to make sure that I removed all of the eggs from the chicken coop on a daily basis, especially after one of the hens started getting broody. Well, she was a sneaky hen and before I realized what she was doing, she was setting on a nest full of eggs. At that point, I did not have any idea how long she had been setting and the thoughts of throwing away eggs that already had developing chicks inside made me very sad, so I decided to go ahead and let her hatch them. On the morning that I thought they were going to hatch, I arrived at work extra early and heard soft little peeps from inside the chicken coop before I could even get the door open.
There was the hen, still on the nest, with several little beady-eyed chicks peeking out from under her! I knew that the eggs might continue to hatch for awhile, so I went ahead and turned the other chickens out and fed and watered them. All day, I continue to go out and peek inside the coop. The little chicks were running around inside the coop and they were so cute! By early afternoon, the mother hen had left the nest and was running around with the other chickens down in the woods. I took the opportunity to see how many chicks there were and how many eggs were left. There were three eggs still in the nest. Two of them made an ominous slushy sound when I gently shook them. I knew those were as rotten as they could be, so I tossed them far up into the woods were they exploded with a loud "pop". When I picked up the third egg, I could tell that it was not a rotten egg. In fact, the egg had been "pipped" by the little chick inside. When I listened carefully, I could hear the little chick peeping inside! I gently replaced the egg in the nest, determined to let nature take its course. A couple hours after that, I went back to check on the egg. Nothing had changed. I picked the egg up and listened carefully. There was no movement inside the egg. There was still just a small crack in the shell. And I heard just a couple of very faint, weak peeps from inside the egg.
Well, I was just sure that since the hen had left the nest hours before, that the little chick was dying inside the egg without the warmth of its mothers body and that it was too weak to get out of the egg without assistance.
Yep. I peeled that little chick out of the egg. I had no idea that this was going to be a bit of a gross undertaking. I took a small towel and laid the little chick on it. It was too weak to stand up and it could barely peep. But it had its little eyes open. I knew that I needed to get it warm, so I wrapped it up and held it against my chest so that hopefully, my body heat would warm it up.
While all of this was going on, Parkway visitors were coming by the cabin and asking me why I was holding a dishtowel to my chest. I will never forget when I showed the little chick to one family, which included an elderly grandfather. He took one look at the chick, which was just laying in my hand, gasping for breath, and said, "That thing ain't gonna make it. Ya might as well just throw it in the woods!" That comment made me SO mad!
It got to be 5pm, which meant it was time to go home. I tried to sneak the little chick back into the nest with the other chicks, but the mother hen immediately started viciously pecking at the little orphaned chick. Now what?! There was nothing to do but to take the little thing home with me. After I got home, I was looking at the little chick, which was still to weak too stand up. I thought that maybe it was hungry. So, I mixed up some cornmeal & water and made a thick gruel. I force fed that little chick using an eye dropper. I was not very successful. (What I didn't know at the time was that chicks do not really eat in the first day or so of their life and there I was trying to force feed the little thing!) Well, I had no way to keep it warm, other than holding it against my body, so when I went to bed that night, I wrapped it up in a towel and held it against my chest as I slept.
When I left for work the next day, I held the little chick to my chest as I drove to work. I held that little chick all day long. When I was working in the garden, cooking in the fireplace, feeding the other chickens, talking to visitors, and working in the visitor center, all were done while holding the little chick. By late that day, the little chick was able to take a couple of wobbly steps, but it would fall over often. I held the little chick as I was eating my supper and as I slept that night. The only time I was not holding that chick was when I took a shower. This went on for several weeks.
Little did I know that I had created a little monster! Once the chick could walk, it followed me EVERYWHERE. It had to be with me 24/7 because it had imprinted on me and, in its eyes, I was its mother hen. Anytime that I got out of its sight, it would start peeping in the most desperate sounding chicken voice that I have ever heard. George, who was a volunteer at the visitor center helped me come up with a name. Since we didn't know if it was a boy or a girl, we decided on a name that could be either. So, now, the little chick was known as Sydney.
The only time that I ever left Sydney alone was when I took a shower or when I had to go into town to the grocery store. Somehow, I don't think that Kroger would have been understanding about me bringing my pet chicken into the store. Sydney even went on a three hour trip to Meadows of Dan every other week with me when I went home to visit my family. His favorite place to ride was perched on my hand which was resting on the top of the steering wheel. Needless to say, I got quite a few bizarre looks coming down I-81 from my fellow travelers!
The amazing thing about this little chick was that he would not go to the bathroom while I was holding him. He always waited until he got down onto the floor where I had newspapers spread. Sydney ate normal chicken scratch feed, but he also loved popcorn and Diet Pepsi. That chicken was CRAZY about Diet Pepsi and would keep on drinking it as long as I would give it to him. All he had to do was see me with a Diet Pepsi bottle and he would start dancing and peeping like a chicken possessed! At that point in my life, I did occasionally smoke and Sydney thought it was a great game to jump up on my lap, grab the cigarette out of my mouth with his beak, and take off with it, running through the house with a lit cigarette. Very dangerous, but funny too.
When I would take a shower, Sydney would always stand just outside of the shower stall peeping his little chicken head off. If I pulled the shower curtain to the side and looked out so that he could see me, he would stop peeping. But the minute I closed the curtain, he would start up again. By this time, Sydney was starting to get a few little feathers and he was starting to flap his tiny wings when he jumped up on things. So he would stand outside the shower desperately peeping and flapping his wings until I reappeared.
One morning, I was in the shower and Sydney was panicking as usual. All of a sudden, he got very quiet. I thought that he had finally figured out that there was no reason to be so upset. After I got out of the shower, I dried off and combed out my hair. I hollered for Sydney and he didn't come. I searched through the entire house and could not find Sydney anywhere. I was the one panicking now! Finally, I returned to the bathroom. I searched the bathroom again and that is when I glanced at the toilet. There was Sydney floating face down in the toilet bowl. He wasn't moving.
I screamed and grabbed him out of the water. He was not moving or breathing. I was screaming and crying and apologizing to him. I had killed my little sweet chicken because I was too stupid to close the lid on the toilet bowl.
I wondered if it was possible to do chicken CPR. I turned Sydney upside down and gently squeezed his tiny body. A bit of water bubbled out of his beak. So, I squeezed again and again until water stopped bubbling out. He still was not breathing or moving. So, I put his beak in my mouth and breathed a very gentle puff of air into his lungs. Then I squeezed him again. Then another puff of air. Squeeze. Puff. Squeeze. Puff. All of a sudden Sydney let loose with a cross between a sneeze and a cough and he stood up!!!!!
I had saved Sydney from death a second time!
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