Happenings at home and at work with the animals.

Since we live on a major highway, our yard is fenced to keep the dogs safe. They love swimming in the ponds when it's hot, but that means someone has to take them, and we don't always have time. So, a couple of weeks ago, when the temperature hit 90 degrees, we went to the local hardware store and bought them a baby pool.

They couldn't wait for it to fill. They were in it before we even got the hose in and turned on.

This is our 9-year-old Lab, Maggie. She looks old, with lots of gray hair, but she doesn't act any older than our 2-year-old, Boone. Her favorite thing to do is dig in the pool and splash water all over herself. Then she takes her nose and dips it in the water like she's retrieving something, even though she's not.

Here's Boone digging at the bottom of the pool. I wonder where he learned to do that!

They were enjoying the pool so much, even though it's not really big enough for two big ol' Labrador Retrievers (Maggie weighs 109, Boone 118). Since we didn't have much planned for the day, we decided to really make their day, so we took them down to the pond. When Maggie hits the pond, she loses herself in her own world. She sees nothing and nobody, and she hears nothing and nobody. She would swim for days if we'd let her. Once she gets in, she is in until we manage to trick her into getting out, which normally takes about 30 minutes. We've timed her swimming adventures, and her longest swim was just shy of an hour. Now, when I say she swam for almost an hour, I mean she swam. She didn't get out once. She absolutely loves swimming, and since she has arthritis now, the vet says swimming is the best exercise for her - and she is more than happy to exercise.

Boone, on the other hand, loves to swim, but he also loves to run in the pasture. One of his favorite things to do is run around for a few minutes, then run full speed and splash into the pond. Once he's in the pond, he swims over to where Maggie is and asks her to play. However, she turns tail and swims away. He's finally (after two years) realizing that when Maggie is swimming, he is on his own.

In other animal news, we have three geese at work that have been making regular appearances for the past few weeks. Our back parking lot slopes, so when it rains, it creates a nice pool for them. They started out just bathing in the pool after a rain, and within a few days, they began making themselves at home. They seem friendly and will walk right up to you.

Here is one of them standing tall on the company truck in the back parking lot. It looks like he's checking out our shipping department through the dock door. Maybe he's planning a trip to tour the building in the near future.

A few days later, our visitors helped themselves to some goodies in the community garden in front of the building. Provided with food for the taking, as well as a nice watering hole for bathing, I think they just might be here to stay.

I apologize for the delay in announcing the winner of the note cards. I've been having some issues with my eyes, but I'm happy to announce the winner is Cindy. Please contact letters@grit.com. to claim your prize.

Mountain Man and I were having a conversation the other evening.

"Seems like there are lots of birds around. Everywhere I walk, there's birds under foot." I was referring to our assorted poultry.

"I noticed." Leave it to Mountain Man to convey so much feeling in so few words.

It didn't seem as though we had that many birds this summer when they were locked up in their Poultry Palace (a half acre run Mountain Man built) due to a fox who decided to make her home on the edge of our pasture and conduct raids. But the fox moved on and now that the birds are once again out free ranging, it's hard not to notice them.

The other day I was sitting in our bedroom and I heard "knock, knock, knock." The dogs started raising a racket and I went to answer the door but no one was there. As soon as I sat down again, the knocking started. This time, I looked out the bathroom window and what did I find? Seven naughty Sebastopol geese pecking at the basement window. I do believe they were captivated by their reflection in the glass. Now, I can always find them around the back porch, eating the grass, admiring their reflections as they chomp away.

Walk a few steps from the house and instead of geese, I run into a group of chickens hanging out in one of Mountain Man's firewood crates.

In the field by Mountain Man's log splitting station, turkeys and guineas roam. When I look at them I feel a sense of accomplishment knowing they are my very own hatchlings. I've learned so much this past spring about nesting hens, turkeys and guineas and the care of newborns.

But I don't think Mountain Man would be too thrilled to see my guineas taking over the wood splitting station he just built.

Lift the branches of any shrub and you'll find my Cochin chickens. These birds are HUGE. They actually come up to my knees. Another thing I've learned about Cochins is that they are a tight knit group. You'll always find them together and they wouldn't be caught dead with the other chickens.

There also like to lounge in the shade of the pines.

Some birds still like to stay in the Poultry Palace. Here's 2 Naked Neck chickens and a Speckled Sussex.

The hens are maturing and starting to lay eggs. We're definitely going to have a surplus of eggs to share.

One of my favorite birds is my peacock. Peacocks are incredibly friendly and inquisitive.

And when I rattle the treat jar (dried worms), he comes running.

I could go on showing you more pictures of birds all over the place and really, it's kind of incredible seeing these birds out enjoying life and interacting with them. All the breeds you see here were chosen for a specific reason; either their ability to withstand cold temperatures or their ability to thrive free ranging. And I consider the birds an integral part of our farm. They fertilize the soil, control weeds, eat grass, dine on bugs and provide us with delicious eggs.

And I've learned at dusk, no matter how far they have roamed, they all head to the barn.

Are you wondering what Mountain Man thinks about my feathered friends? When he takes Lilly, our German Shepherd, out with him to do farm chores, he always tells her "Don't bother the birds. They are your Mother's birds. They're part of the family now."

Thanks one and all for visiting us.

Mountain Man, Mountain Woman and the zoo can be found at Red Pine Mountain.

I stumbled out of bed this morning at the insistence of two medium-sized dogs and a cat who's much louder than his size. I hadn't had my coffee yet, but they were dancing and prancing in front of the door, and I knew resistance was futile. So I flipped on the coffee pot, threw on a couple of layers of fleece and headed out, grumbling against the cold and my subcutaneous early-morning resistance to always following the dogs' agenda instead of my own.

We headed up into the orchard just as dawn hit the baby-blanket stage, an extravaganza of pink and blue. I walked with my head down, marveling at how quickly we've gone from green grass underfoot to this straw over-laced with frost. My attention turned to the sky when I heard, faintly in the distance, a panicked-sounding honk coming from the south. Looking up I saw a lone Canada goose, flying over the horizon toward me, his strong wings beating like an Olympic swimmer in the sky.

"Poor thing," I thought, "he's gotten separated from the flock." I had just begun to wonder what happens to solo geese when they lose their way when far, far in the distance, I heard a faint chorus of honking. Like the cavalry riding over the hill, a long line of geese angled its way along the northern horizon, heading straight for the singular goose to the south. In less than a minute, they had connected. The southern goose gracefully turned and took his place at the head of what had now become the familiar flying-V formation. He hadn’t been lost at all, maybe just an outlier (an outflier?), scouting their new direction.

As I stood marveling at this sight that, no matter how familiar and how mundane, never fails to just knock me out (the complexity of it all!), suddenly a flock of small birds took flight about 50 yards to my left. I glanced up and was instantly confused. I had thought they were sparrows, but these birds had bright red bellies. My mind instantly began searching its bird database. What kind of small bird in Kansas would flock like that and have scarlet bellies? I was interrupted mid-confusion by the sight of the first birds in the flock changing their angle and heading off to the north. Their red plumage suddenly disappeared. Sparrows, after all, turned vivid by the dawn’s early light.

Shaking my head in awe and wonder – ultimately my natural state on most of these morning meanders, regardless of their grumpy beginnings – I looked down in time to catch the cat and one of the dogs also staring up at the small flock (though I could swear I heard the cat whisper, “I could take ‘em …”).

Sometimes people ask me why I live way out in the boonies like I do. I wish I could just hand them this memory and say, “See?”

Image: iStockphoto.com/Gord Horne