Routine, while comforting, is transient. It is in my life, anyway. That’s why it’s so important for me to love and/or appreciate every bit of my life, because it’s great while it lasts, but everything changes. Changes don’t always happen overnight; sometimes they take a slow pace, bit by bit, everything different years down the line, but you couldn’t say when.
Okay, everyone knows all of the above, it’s obvious after all.
The current routine in my head at present, is as follows:
- wake up sluggish,
- tear around in a panic to get to work on time,
- tear around (intellectually at least) at work,
- zoom to Camp desperate to get as much time there as possible, and finally,
- self-indulgently, to wallow in a sea of lamby baas and geeses chatting and arguing. Calm. Peace. Just the sound of the wind and the animals.
- And then head home, late on, to sit at the computer for as long as I dare.
And now …
… We’ve got goslings!
Three brand new, canary yellow fuzz balls on perfect tiny feet, with perfect bills and a very protective mother. The pictures aren’t great, but you can see how angry Mother Goose is. (She is hissing throughout.) I didn’t want to upset her more.
We gave her chick crumbs and buttered bread from the night before, and green cauliflower leaves (she killed a few of those, still hissing, before she deigned to eat them). Couldn’t figure out how to feed the goslings without the goose eating the food (goose I am, therefore I eat) so we put in a fair quantity on a barrel lid on the floor, and in a proper little plastic feeder.
Himself says they will grow really fast, so at three days old, these are the first pictures of the first lot of goslings. Hopefully we will get another lot out of the incubator at my mum and dad’s. Mum is fervently turning 19 eggs three times a day and changing the water, so hopefully we will get at least ten more baby geese.
I realised why, when young geese are scared, they dive under one another in an effort to bury their heads. It’s their safe place, because it’s just like being under mummy. One chick got left behind when mummy got really mad, and when it tried to get back under, she was so angry and focused on me that she just ignored it and didn’t budge. I saw it a little later, burrowed under her wing, its little pink feet sticking out. I daresay it’ll have survived. She had responsibly chivvied it back under her by the time I left.