War---but---it's just not in me to fight! Confessions of Super Hen (Part 3)

 I was all 'beak,' yesterday. I'm not sure why, but I must have been in a strange mood. HE-- had been a bit disappointed re our laying efforts. Hey---we had a bad day---OK. Then---I overrated. I declared war and I must now confess to a very selfish act. Once, HE had locked us in for the night, I called a 'Council of War,' and ran through a few strategies, like:
     Pecking at HIS feet at every opportunity, especially when he wear jandals!
     Placing poops just where HE steps over the fence, meaning HE will take part of inside HIS house.
     Hiding our eggs in places HE find them.
     Braking the odd egg, that we place in the box---so HE can see them.
     Teasing that Perdy thing---make her bark and annoy HIM.

I think you get the picture, but things didn't quite work out that way. As with any action planned by a 'union,' one must have uniformity of action. The other girls just did not seem to have the commitment. They were more concerned about their claws and the shine on their feathers. It was me who enacted all the aspects of the 'plan,' while they simply strutted and clucked, talking nonsense. I bet they don't even register to vote. Typical!

I guess it's time to save face. HE will be back any moment, so I have a peace offering. One large 'super egg,' from guess who, is sitting strategically in the middle of the nesting box and the other is in the next box---not huge like my beautiful double yoker, but beautiful in its own way. If that does not please  HIM, then I'm going walk about. Trouble is HE has blocked all the holes! Anyway---'walk-a-bouts are for Aussies are they not?

Tomorrow, I am going to launch a 'charm offensive.' (To be continued)

PS:  There is another huge dog, living with us at the moment with a lovely lady from Nelson.  It was her who talked to me about my 'attitude.' Do not tell HIM!
   
   
     

Confession of 'Super Hen.' (Part 2)

Goodness me---much can happen in just 24 hours. Yesterday, I introduced you the 'skeleton's' of my (OK---our) existence, illuminating the bare facts as to how we arrived in this idyllic back yard. SHUUUUSH---do not tell HIM! I have managed to explore the 'greater area,' of the aforementioned yard and much to HIS displeasure, several yard beyond. If HE only knew just how far I have ventured, I am sure HE would suffer from 'dehentia!'

Take yesterday for example. HE arose soon after sunrise. You see, we have managed to make HIM feel guilty, if he does not attend to our needs first thing in the morning, before HE takes the Mutt names Perdy  for a walk. We set up this gentle background 'clacker,' somewhere between clucking and crowing. I guess it sounds like we are suffering in some way, because it elicits an immediate response, once he pokes HIS head out the back door of HIS simple dwelling. WE have yet to see inside that place, but believe me when I say---we are working on it!

I digress. When HE returned from HIS walk yesterday, two of us were not to be seen. We had absconded, but on hearing HIS noisy mutterings, we made ourselves magically appear in he extension to our generous enclosure. It was most important that HE did not discover the means re our escape. This is when we 'feed' HIS ego. Yes, we walk across to HIM, squat and let HIM pick us up, whereby HE returns us to the enclosure,, whilst going on in a boringly familiar manner about 'how the buggers escaped!'

Then HE sets about searching for beautiful eggs we have laid. The others of course place theirs in the egg laying area. I do  not. Mine---are placed in a nest, just by the garden shed. HE has found that area and takes them into the dwelling. I hear HIM 'crowing' about how wonderful I am---yes I produce double yokers. It's all a ploy to 'control' HIM, of course. It takes the focus from my escapades. HE seems less anxious about my absconding, thinking that HE knows the whereabouts of myself and the girls.

Unfortunately, there are traitors in the neighbourhood! Yes HIS Dutch neighbours turned me in! They noticed that I had found a means to escape, using the compost stinky bin to jump on and clacker through a hole in the fence. Freedom---we thought! Nope, those very same people, grabbed us! They can run very much faster than HIM, being younger and in possession of two very sprightly young boys! They kept returning us to the enclosure and they told HIM about our exploits. HE thanked them and immediately set about closing off our escape route. To rub in the 'salt,' HE even offered some of our hard won eggs. How very dare HIM---using us and our labours to suit HIS means. War had been declared!  (To be continued!)

Confessions of 'Super Hen' (Part 1)

Let me introduce myself. Yes, I know---'HE' calls me Super Hen. I kinda like it but truth be known---HE actually can't tell the difference between myself and my sisters! Yeah, I know---I let HIM catch me when I escape our quite generous enclosure, but on several occasions we have swapped and one of my dear sisters has stood in for me while I pretend to be---a normal hen.

    My sisters and I arrived n the Coast about 17 weeks ago and we were delivered by our former owner to this lovely back yard. Don't tell HIM, but we really do appreciate the efforts HE made to make us a home. The only downside would be that hairy monster called---PERDY. Me thinks that if she gets half the chance, our feathers will be permanently rearranged!

   How did I get my name? Right from the beginning of our new life, I was different from my sisters. There are two side to me; one the gentle loving sister and the other the adventurist and killer chook! I look after my sisters and woe betide and stupid sparrow that assumes that the food is 'shared product,' hence my tendency to chase off and yes---if necessary, go to battle for our 'stuff.' HE thinks that the dead sparrow was as a result of my violent foray, but actually, the poor wee thing died of a heart attack! I guess that's how legends are formed, from a simple event and the subsequent additions to fact.

   Perhaps you are pondering the use of 'language' re my telling of this story. Get used to it my friends, because hey--I am from royalty. I know---I'm not the only 'queen' in this story, but a little competition adds to the rich and varied tapestry of 'being here.'

   HE thinks that it was me who defended our 'realm' from the birds. HE also assumes that it is me who lays the eggs. Damn---HE will be thinking that I produce 'golden eggs at this rate.  OK---I am working on that. I hear HIM squealing in that annoying manner, every time he eats one of our eggs, stating the obvious. Of course the bloody yoke is golden!

   I intend---yes me----'Super Hen' to feed the legend, to give HIM stories, but told by me. I shall escape----everyday and those events will be truthfully reported. BUT---there is a problem. ANY super-hero needs a costume. The other person in the household claims HE is going to design one, but perhaps YOU can help out there! I shall await your efforts that MAY be rewarded, if you live nearby. I may be Super Hen, but I have yet to perfect a deliver system re the production efforts of my sisters to places more than twenty metres from our nesting boxes (in and out of the enclosure!) I do have a cousin with some of those flying robots of course. perhaps John can help out there---just saying.'

   Right---I'm off to create some mischief in the neighbourhood. I am thinking of getting that hairy beast, Perdy into trouble by a little bit of old fashioned 'blame shifting.'  Cluck with you---later.

'Coastal chickens' demand a very high standard re their cuisine!

Since my feathery daughters joined our Coastal family,  I have had to learn about pleasing their culinary requirements. Not for them, is just throwing a few handfuls of chicken food, purchased from one of the outlets in Thames. Oh no---they have become connoisseurs!

They demand that I procure nothing but the best in 'chooky chow,' plus deliver only the very highest quality 'leftovers,' or the prizes I collect on my walks. The later activity is now focused on finding little treasures; take for example the native New Zealand plant---Puha---the chooks just love it and I am running out of places where there is still an abundance.

Indeed, I have taken to 'farming the weed: taking only the top parts, leaving the plant to branch out and produce new succulent tips, for later collection, whilst trying not to draw attention to myself, lest others take up the practise. I probably look a little strange and I have had a few quizzical glances cast my way as I walk past people, who may be assuming that the large bulging doggie bag contains doggie poops! All that poop from such a little dog?

My veggie garden is starting to contribute 'produce too. I planted Kale and I am not that fond of it, so guess were it goes---yes----over the fence into the beaks of beasts who enjoy the green vitamin package. Various herbs also go the way of the Kale, but I 'experiment'  with those, on a'let's see what they think,' basis.

Of course, I am not alone re the 'bringing up of my new family. They do say after all, that it takes a village to raise a child.' I have often found various 'offerings, or the remains of them in the enclosure. The other day, a rather large bone, the remnants of a roast was evident, having being pecked clean of anything edible. before you throw your hands towards 'chooky heaven,' in the belief that my neighbours will poison my girls, step back! The  neighbour who tends to partake in such generosity, knows a great deal more then I do about hens.

The ramifications re the end product can be seen in the beautiful eggs I am now getting. As some of you may know from previous posts, it seems that I have one hen who is producing double yokers---everyday. That, I am told, is very good luck. So----long may the hens of the Coast keep adding to my new life. The Coast delivers in ever more wonderful ways!

China---keep reading my blogs.

Thanks China. I am amazed at the number of hits from your way---on my blogs. I am not sure what you like about them and I guess the only way to 'know' would be if you make some comments---give me some feedback. The next step would be for you to download my NZ stories. You can get them on my website and download from Amazon. Just follow the links from Neil Books and click on the free AP if you do not have Kindle. I would .love to know mt books are being read in China. I am of course making the assumption that oyu are able to do the above in China. I am sure you 'will find a way!'

'Coastal learning,' It's never too late!

Maybe I have learned to slow down; perhaps I have retreated from my 'let it rip,' attitude and then looked on to see an 'object, a utensil or a mechanical device of some kind, laying on the floor, in pieces or at the very least, not 100% ---functional.

Take the little battery operated vacuum stick, that suffices for a 'clean-up' for me, as the big flash 'kick arse' cleaner is usually in the back of the car as it is used for other servicing---elsewhere. I don't like it,because to seems to go its own way, never in the direction I aim it! However, after a few 'operations' with the stick---it runs out of juice, or worse----'spin!'  It doesn't 'pick up' as it should, so yes---I empty it. But---it is not up to the task, as evidenced by the bits left on the floor. Such 'bit's become the subject of a 'record of discussion,' from 'you know who!'

The above 'decrease in functionality' enacted itself upon my attempt to clean the lounge and other areas of our little home today and I was forced into exploring the options as to why this was happening. The head was blocked, so I painstaking  pulled the bits of frayed ma,, dog hair and other unmentionables, all Perdy's fault of course, from the head. It felt like I had succeeded--well by just looking at it. I turned it on and proceeded to  vacuum again. NO PICK UP! Bugger!!!!!

Right---you are seriously pissing me off---machine. I am getting to the point whereby---things happen and the result is and has been--a new machine. NO---that will not do these days, now that I live on a less than generous income! Let's pull the bugger to  bits ,eh? Yes, that is a question and one that I pondered for more than a few seconds. I waited until my blood pressure dropped a little and then decided to pout my glasses on and seek 'signage' that indicated that the head of the machine could be opened. Success!!!!

I gently---yes GENTLY prised open anything that said---'open.' and before long the device that sucked up, was in several parts. the 'blockage' easily visible. Bits and pieces, many of dogie nature, fell away leaving a clear and relatively clean passage, allowing a free-flow of things to enter the 'collection chamber.' Hey====don't expect me to read the bloody diagram, to attain the actual name of the various components of the cleaner. Guess what---I succeeded in reassembling the head and attaching it to the stem of the machine.

I turned it on and directed it to the task at hand. OMG---it worked---just like new. Whatever has come over me----yes me-----following a simple process without damaging the device, or any expletives, other than those that exuded a joy in managing a task! Surely the Coastal air and the beautiful stones I collect, have worked their influence into my psyche? What the hell---I will take every smidgen of Coastal charm that comes my way! The result? One unbroken pristine machine and a 'cleanish' house---until the 'someone' uses the flash machine and the standards rise.

'Coastal chicks' don't give it up to just---anyone!

So I lost a few 'friends' with my opening gambit!  He's gone too far, you say. He's just a bit 'edgy,' the slightly less PC amongst you, opine. As that lovey Doris Day used to sing, 'Whatever will be, will be,'

As you may know, my 'girls,' have very upfront behavioural traits. They 'are what they are,' sometimes, real beasts, frighteningly returning to basal instincts, in order to meet their varied needs. I am left wondering what tricks they have up their sleeves, never pushing them too far, as being a mere male, I sometimes lack  empathy for the needs of my girls.

They often exhibit qualities that border on the criminal, but once again, I step back. Let's face it, they are only defending that which they see as ----theirs! It is not the male of the myriad of species inhabiting this blue planet, that take 'territorial disputes to the extreme, regularly resulting in the death of those who transgress. Sadly, I see such wanton acts of destructive violence on a regular basis. I accept such acts as being within the 'norm.'

Being rather close, to my 'girls,' I have come to understand that I can not use the skills I have acquired over the years from the other side of my life----my professional life---the counselling skills, involving mediation, conflict resolution and time management. NO---I am too close and experience has taught me that one should always seek the help of fellow 'specialists,' and NOT be afraid to refer clients on. I have done that. Even Perdy, agrees that I do not have the answers to all of the problems exhibited by my 'girls!'

Today, I returned home with a special treat for the girls. On my walk with Perdy, along a beach that shall remain secret, because, selfishly, I do not wish to divulge the source of the treats. I gathered some delectable treasure, no----not the usual pretty stones that I 'tumble.' I picked some lovely fresh Puha--a bag of it, stuffed to an explosive state. Yes, I used one of Perdy's poop bags for the collecting. I returned home,  knowing that I was going to be very popular with the girls. They love Puha!

I emptied the bag within their reach, then I stood back---waiting for the accolades coming my way. NOOOOOO! They morphed into these creatures, who had not picked up on any of the skills I had hoped they learned in their therapy sessions; cooperation, sharing and caring about one another. If ONE had a stem, the others desired it, yet there was plenty for all. I was so disappointed in the behaviour my feathery friends were exhibiting.  They were a bunch of demented hens, no less! I tried, but came up short in the final delivery. When the chips are down---chicks will be chicks!

Coast time---forget hours or minutes---just a number.

This morning has been an 'illustration' of alternate time. No---not another 'plane,' or some sort of mystic illusion, but something more---primal.
 
 I set out with a few targets to fill the morning. I had allowed about an hour to complete them, but in some recess of my ethos, I unwittingly made adjustments that could extend the morning by quite a margin. As long as I purchased some 'safety' glasses and ear muffs, I did not really care how the morning went.
 
My 'appendage,' Perdy, read the usual signs; me putting on a jumper, socks and yes---going to the toilet. She reads way more than she should, given the fact that old buggers go to the latter---quite a lot! I'm kind of surprised that she hasn't quite got to the point where she heads to pick up the lead, from where it is stored by the back door, but no---she just 'knows.'
 
We were soon heading the short distance to the main drag. Yip, there is another 'drag' in town! Our first stop: The barber. I had noted my unruly hair, starting to look a bit 'hillbilly!' I prefer the label. 'post semi-retirement, don't give a stuff, syndrome.' Either description is acceptable. I wandered into a barber that I had not used before and was greeted by an older bloke, not too dissimilar to me in appearance---yes he had that 'handsome, well used, knowledgeable, a little bit unPC,' look. He looked a bit grumpy too, a feeling I can display when 'issues' are in the forefront of my persona.
   'Just tidy me up a bit,' I said as he ushered me to the vacant chair.
   'Nice day, eh,' he said. 'At least the suns out for a change.'
   'Sure is---might get the weed eater going,' I replied.

    The conversation flowed in  that comfortable manner that ensues when people are content. Yes, we discussed local, national and international 'stuff, In essence we seemed to agree on most issues. We got into the 'railways versus trucks,' debate and that reflected our unison of ideas re many other important matters. I decided, I had met a like-minded soul or he was a bloody good actor. I left the establishment, looking somewhat more presentable.  (Sorry---pictures not included)

   As I left to join Perdy in the car, I thought of other reasons for my Friday townee visit. Memories flooded in re a bygone era, way back in the 1950's and the Friday visits to the little town of Eltham in Taranaki---fond memories. Carmens, (I think) was a shop that had 'everything. Not flash---somewhat like a 50's version of a more upmarket Two Dollar shop, but maybe a bigger range re pricing.

   I wandered into the smaller of the two options that are right next door to one another. I'm not sure why, but it does make for good competition.
   I like the two Korean owners---friendly and helpful.
   'Hi ya,' I said. 'I'm after some safety glasses and ear muffs.'
Before he could answer, a guy dressed in a high-vis outfit called out, 'Down here mate.'
We all laughed. Only in a small town would the customer do the job of the shop keeper.

   A few minutes later, I was back in the car, with my $6 purchase---both items way less than from one of the larger name-brand stores, but I was totally OK with the quality. I wanted safety and protection for my eyes and to retain what is left of my failing hearing.

   Perdy had her walk---along with the many stops, so I could chat. I met a former counsellor and we chatted until Perdy called --'TIME!'
TIME? What the hell is that on the Coast? An Illusion to measure how one spends the time? No---it's a goal post that constantly moves. Use any other definition if you must, but I am content with the latter. The ebb and flow of the tides probably makes more sense.

 

 

I often meet people on the Coast---who I just----like!

I walk everyday down here on my beloved Coast. The other day I took an early morning walk, to get a sick doggie out, avoiding an 'accident on the floor, as she had exhibited for the previous two days---or nights. Things have much improved in that 'theatre of operations.' It was dark and I assumed  I was walking at about 6.30am. When I returned, I looked at the clock on the stove, to realise that it was only 4am. OMG---what was I doing? .Actually, it was wonderfully serene, quiet and the fairies in the hills were just starting their day in the early morning mists.
 
   I walked Perdy this afternoon and as per usual, met her friends from the retirement village, which always transforms a short walk into a long leisurely  ramble, much of the latter taking the form of 'conversations that inform, entertain and delve into the decades long gone.' I love it. There be 'stories in much more than them there hills!'

   On today's walk, we encountered a gentleman whom we had met before----he remembered Perdy's name but not mine. That's something I note that often happened in Onehunga Bay. Indeed I regularly reversed the naming, calling the 'mum or dad,' the dog's name. Many laughs ensued. The gentleman was pulling in a small boat and it looked like he needed a hand, so I offered Perdy's help.Of course, I lent my doubtful strength and between the three of us we soon had his boat attached to the car.

   Then we talked for so long that Perdy started to tell us off. Whilst diverting her increasingly strident pleas to---move it,' Cedric showed me his catch; three good sized Snapper, all caught just a hundred metres off Tararu Beach, from a very cheap boat, purchased from Trade Me. He informed me that I could do the same by casting my rod (still in the garage) at the river mouth and that NOW is just the right time as the Snapper and Kahawai are bountiful.

   I meet lots of friendly people, but sometimes you 'click.' I like people with stories. I just know I will run into Cedric again. That's how it is, down here on the Coast.