My Life is Damp

Heat and humidity. The Now competes with my desire for comfort, for myself and my precious little darlins: Tweety (ladies first), Squire (now my senior chicken, who had a re-birthday August 25.) I brought him home from a central Georgia auction 11 years ago for Squiggles, who had gone “broody” and was starving herself for lack of a guy.

Speckes, son of Freckles and Squire, adopted as an egg by Squig and raised by her until Squire ran him into the jaws of a fox when he was six months old. Speckles lost all but three of his tail feathers in that encounter, but survived to put out his father’s right eye before succumbing to scale mites, loss of both spurs in attacking me, and becoming companion to Brownie, who finally died last October. Speckles will be 11 years old late November, my first-born, and a Sagittarius.

This is history. Now, Tweety is the queen, and Tweety has everyone wrapped around her mean little beak. Beware anyone who approaches any food she wants, or attempts gardening in her territory, or who tries to pick her up until she’s good and ready to cuddle on her terms.

Tweety has no fear of cats or racoons. She likes the roosters, and they like her. She has adopted Brownie’s habit of standing in the water dish on hot days, which may protect her from mites.

Mites, insects, rats, racoons, squirrels, mold, and mildew are thriving, too,and everything that can rot is rotting, or becoming brittle, like plastic, in this humid, salty, almost tropical, flat setting. And there’s the rust and corrosion on everything metal.

Climate change? Where is the climate not changing? Live long enough, and you may experience it all.

Flood. Ocean rising or land sinking? kco2019
Speckles (the Screamer) and Brownie in the mist kco 2016
Johnston Street flood. Savannah, GA. June, 1999 kco 0699

6 thoughts on “My Life is Damp

  1. Eternal Anglo Seax (ᛋᛠᛉ)

    I haven’t had to live all that long to feel change. Winters are weaker and unpredictable, and the summers have been getting hotter I think the last few years. That being said, I have certain reservations about climate alarmism which are informed by my impression that the elites selling us that bridge nevertheless have carbon footprints bigger than Maine put together. Still. I don’t think that means we should ignore sound environmental practise, cooperative technology, reduced clear cutting, a return to nature where possible.

    Reply
    1. katharineotto Post author

      It’s all in the balance, with the alarmists most afraid of all, because they fear the consequences of what man has wrought.

      Jean Paul Sartre’s play, “Huis Clos” (“No Exit”) depicts well how the final judge is one’s own mirror.

      Reply
    1. katharineotto Post author

      I read your comment while I was waiting out yet another torrential downpour. We’re due for more thundershowers all week.

      Chickens are a lot of trouble. I astound myself with what I’m willing to do for them, to keep them safe, healthy, and usually more comfortable than I am. And I only have three chickens!

      I like the wild birds, too, and have both a hummingbird feeder and a wild bird feeder, but squirrels and at least one racoon have knocked the wild bird feeders down by swinging on them, or batting them off their hook.

      Be grateful for your gray warbler.

      Reply

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