The ducks are finally big enough to run with the chickens. They eat the same things as chickens so keeping their food separate is not necessary. The arrangement seems to be working out pretty well.
In fact, I’ve decided to make a children’s book.
I’ll title it Where Are Tipsy, Topsy and Turvy? or Find the Ducks.
What do you think?
I came home one day to find a lizard on the fence post. It caught my eye because it was bright green. A week later I saw a brown lizard on the bench. 
I wondered if perhaps it was the same lizard. I know anoles change colors.
If so, why did it choose to stand out on the fence post and blend in on the bench?
Then I thought about human behavior. Why do we sometimes choose to stand out and be different and other times we want to blend in?
I haven’t come up with an answer. Any suggestions?
The school where I teach has a long tradition of celebrating May Day including a May Pole. The kids learn to skip around the pole holding streamers as music plays. At the end, there is a pattern of colored streamers on the pole.
If done properly, it looks very neat. This year was a little rough. Practices were held as often as possible but some of the students still struggled.
After the festivities were over, one of the students asked the teacher in charge, “So how did we do?”
The teacher looked at the pole and said “The last 18 inches look great. Let’s just leave it at that.”
I think I will adopt that philosophy about the school year. It was a rough start but I plan to make the last “eighteen inches” look pretty good.
So to all my fellow teachers and students out there – here’s to a strong finish.
I arrived home from Bible Study last Monday and Rachel told me, “The ducklings are in the furthest Bantam run.” To be fair, she had asked about getting ducks. I had just absentmindedly said “sure.”
This is how Tipsy, Topsy, and Turvey came to live on Miller Farm.
Tuesday morning I went out to check on the various fowl in the back yard. The ducklings had managed to escape their run and were visiting the chickens.
I hope this is not an omen of things to come.
They are really quite cute and very different from chickens. They have rounded beaks and walk with their necks stretched out. It makes me think of an elegant swan rather than a goofy chicken.
Ducks also have webbed feet. Of course I knew this but now I’ve seen it up close and personal. They use these to get around in water – like a pond – which is not found on Miller Farm.
We have a small tub for them to use for now. Eventually we will get a child’s swimming pool.
I can’t help but think of Robert McCloskey’s children’s book, Make Way for Ducklings, the Caldecott Award winner in 1941.
Perhaps I can write another one titled The Ducks of Miller Farm.
The text message conversation on the left is between our daughter and me.
It is taking place during preparation for the annual Gilbert and Sullivan performance at my school.
At this time of year my “part time” job becomes “full time/over time.” This is why I responded as I did.
That being said, Rachel brought home a fish.
His name is Jeffrey. He is a beta fish and he is most likely a she. Because one is a lonely number, Rachel bought another fish.
This is Xibalba. Being another beta fish, he lives in a separate tank.
Rachel is an animal science major and cares deeply for all things breathing. Still concerned that her fish would be lonely, she also bought them each their own water snail.
Jeffrey and Anteous the snail get along great.
Xibalba and Sombra, the other snail, do not. In fact, Xibalba kept attacking Sombra and making him fall from the top of the tank. To protect Sombra, Rachel separated the two.
Bill is also an animal lover and Rachel offered to give Sombra to Bill as his pet snail. Bill was thrilled and Sombra is much happier being with Bill.
On the way to school this week I noticed mosquito bites on Bill’s arm. When I asked him about them he said there is a mosquito in his room. He called it his pet mosquito.
I will accept the addition of fish and snails to Miller Farm but not mosquitoes!
I have had to accept the fact that part of living on a farm is living with rodents. The rat population varies from season to season. We do what we can to keep it under control. We’ve put traps in the garage and poison in the shed.
The rats like to share the chicken feed and the hens and roosters tend to be pretty selfish. We also don’t need to feed any free loading animals.
I have also had to accept the fact that dachshunds catch and kill small animals. They are not particular as to which small animals making the chickens on the wrong side of the fence fair game. This is unfortunate.
In the “fortunate” column is the tendency the dachshunds have to hunt and kill rats. Penelope and Bella are particularly good at this endeavor. Yesterday I let the dogs out while I checked eggs and fed the chickens. When I was ready to get the dogs back in the house I discovered a present.
I’m not sure who brought it to me but I am always grateful for the help with rodent control.
There have been a couple of articles about chickens in the newspaper lately.
One of them talked about free range chickens in Bastrop, Texas. Apparently the free range chickens belong to a chicken sanctuary which has done such a good job protecting them, the population has exploded. The city is working with a local zoo to provide a new home for the birds.
I’m just glad we don’t live closer. Our home tends to collect roaming animals and we are about full.
Another article talked about the popularity of raising backyard chickens. It is becoming a status symbol in California.
We have been keeping chickens for almost 10 years. I guess Miller Farm is just ahead of its time.
It is very interesting to watch the relational dynamics of the chicken yard. I have a whole new understanding of the term “pecking order.”
There is a specific spot for each hen in the coop at night. When I move those who roost on the bee hives into the coop, there is a certain amount of clucking and squawking before everyone settles down.
The roosters have their own way of handling things.
On our farm, many of the roosters are separated by breed – the blue-laced red Wyandottes are in their own space, Richard the spastic frizzle has his own run and the Welsummer rooster is with his hens in another pen. Sometimes the boys will bow up against the chicken wire that separates them but they really can’t do any damage.
That leaves Kaboodle, the Polish crested, and Custard, the Croad Langston, in the main yard. Custard, you may remember, is named after the Ogden Nash poem, Custard the Cowardly Dragon. He has earned his name by running from even the small D’Uccle hen.
So Kaboodle doesn’t have to work hard to be the Alpha rooster. Just in case anyone doubts that, he has taken to jumping up on the fence and crowing.
He is very careful to return to his side of the fence. He may be King of the Chicken Yard but he knows the dachshunds rule the other side of the fence.
Since we have several different feed pans and different pens of chickens, I have developed a system for feeding the birds in the mornings. I tend to work clockwise.
I throw feed into the runs with the Blue Laced Wyandottes and bantams first. Then I put feed into the four pans in the big pen and the one in the Welsummer pen.
The last to be fed are the two roosters in the long run. They were meant to be sent to freezer camp but one is particularly handsome and the other got a reprieve because it got too dark to keep working.
My system works great usually. Then one morning, I set the pail down and turned around to see one of the Buff Orpingtons helping herself to the feed.
I guess she was really hungry.
We have had a great deal of rain around here lately. I don’t mean to complain. After many years of drought, the rain is appreciated.
However, it does present some unique challenges on Miller Farm. The chicken yard is very muddy and very, very slick. 
We’ve decided to institute a new Olympic event – Mud Sliding. Points are not given for speed or gracefulness. The goal is simply to keep from falling down.
So far we have all earned gold medals.
As entertaining and inspiring as the Olympics are, I will be glad when the Miller Farm Olympics are over. I don’t want to push my mud sliding skills (or luck) too far.
