SPRING IS SPRUNG
In August, Zac goes off his food. I know these dogs so well. Well, we have been together 24/7 since I arrived at Glee in March after all. I suspect he has biliary. I am becoming well versed in this tick business. We all get into the bakkie to take Zac to the vet. Zac is so lively once he is on the road. He hangs out of his window, barking at cows and catching trucks, just like himself. I catch his mood of excitement and as this is such a rare feeling for me right now and as it is a gorgeous day, we swing by the beach instead! We have a fabulous run on the deserted beach. I fill up the poop bag not with poops but with perfectly smooth river pebbles I find on the shore. I want to use them on the shower floor instead of tiles. I have so many things to attend to first though, before I can make Swanky swankier.
I am a terrible mother as in the afternoon, Zac is off colour and refusing his food. I should have known better. From my own experience, I know this thing comes in waves. We repeat the routine of getting into the car, but instead of going to the beach (!) we go to the vet, which of course had been the intention all along. Sure enough, Zac has biliary, two types in fact. These ticks are relentless. It is going to be a very long war.
People call me brave. I am not. My personal winter feels like it has been so long, I have morphed into this high-strung version of myself and don’t recognise the terrified, lethargic person I have become.
Fairy godmothers come in all shapes and sizes. I vowed after my riding accident and following deep depression, that I would not sink so low again. I have to be gentle with myself for here I am again wishing my mattress would swallow me whole. Not an easy task when you have horses clamouring for food at five o’ clock in the morning. On bright full moon mornings, Queen tries her best to fox me yelling that she thinks two o’clock in the morning is an excellent time for breakfast. While I am a pushover when it comes to The Queen, even for me this is not a reasonable request. My horses are driving me crazy. They are so damn demanding, tap dancing on the stoep and scooting chairs around to gain my attention. These obvious fairy godmothers just will not allow me to wallow!
The dogs are more sympathetic. Those three pairs of hopeful eyes beg me for walks daily and I can’t deny them, black as my mood has been. Their joy is infectious as they zoom in and out of the stream, and it is on these daily walks, I realise Spring has sprung. The sun has continued to rise and set regardless of me and through my sympathetic dogs and my not so sympathetic horses, my eyes begin to open to the new beauty of Glee. Spring is my fairy godmother and she arrives in a burst of colour. There is evidence of Spring everywhere. Nature is a wonderful teacher.
Apart from the busy busy birds setting up home, Zac who is completely better by now, is in his element having seven baby chicks to watch over.
Instead of my eyes on the ground, my walks are now concentrated on the myriad wildflowers that have miraculously appeared. I keep an eye out for snakes, but not to the exclusion of everything else. On just one walk on one part of Glee, I can see wildflowers of every colour of the rainbow. Not only the colour, but every shade imaginable! Midnight blues, light blues, fuchsias, light pink, red, purple, lilac, orange, white, yellow, lemon yellow. They are all very hardy plants, but the blossom itself is so delicate. I’m used to the flowers coming out in increments, one colour at a time and lasting for about three weeks. Here, they all bloom at once and keep going strong. And there are dandelions! Like the fireflies, I haven’t seen a dandelion since I was a child. I feel so alive getting to know the seasons of my farm and blowing dandelion wishes into the sweet air.
I know this is weird to admit, but I’ve become quite interested in animal scat. There are many different types of poops all over the farm, I would love to know which poop belongs to which animal. Monkey? Porcupine? Bush pig? Monsieur Mongoose? There is so much to witness and to learn.
There are sunbirds, hoopoes and mousebirds, loeries with their flash of scarlet, busy little wagtails, two resident Hadeda Ibis and the everyday call of the ‘Piet my vrou.’ It is ‘Piet my vrou’ ing right now. It drives me up the wall and round the bend! The ‘Piet my vrou’ is a red chested cuckoo. It is seldom seen and always heard and my goal in life right now is to see a ‘Piet my vrou’. This is the closest I have gotten….
I love to watch the fork tailed drongos. They are such intelligent, cheeky and athletic birds. I have watched one perform the Spring Olympics on my fence, diving low and shooting up to perch from one pole to the next. Always a perfect score of ten. It is so entertaining to witness the way he entertains himself, just delirious with his own athleticism. Another drongo likes to ride on Finn’s back, but if it tries to settle on top of The Queen she impatiently twitches the drongo off. Such a perfect illustration of my horses’ characters.
My favourite favourites are the crows. We have both the black crow and pied crow and they are very vocal. Raucous! I love watching them badger a jackal buzzard that is gliding majestically, looking for prey. The crows divebomb the buzzard until the buzzard is so irritated, it goes after them. The crows always get away, cackling with mirth.
I’ve watched them ride the thermals, fearlessly and boldly, catching the wind until you feel sure they must hit the ground. The crows bank at the very last minute, laughing in delight at the sheer pleasure of being alive.
What a gift nature is. What utter joy to watch the expressions of these bold, joyful, full of themselves crow-characters.
With the spring comes a resident Secretary Bird I have dubbed Woodhouse, as in Barbara. He has a solid pair of walking legs that are quite enviable. Each time I see him I cry out ‘Walkies Woodhouse’ and he never disappoints. This bird can walk for miles and when I see him in the distance, I sometimes mistake him for a small human at first glance. Whenever I see Woodhouse, I know it will be a great day.
I also have another new resident: a young bushbuck ewe. I haven’t seen Baby since the night of the guns, but this beautiful buck is a great source of happiness. It is quite weird that the dogs never see her, so a sighting always feels like a gift just for me.
We have been having light spring rain and with it come the flying ants. Oh, what pleasure to see my ugly, bedraggled fowls perform rather ungainly Spring Olympics of their own as they leap and tumble to try to catch the prey. It is one of my most hilarious pastimes to witness their ridiculously useless antics. A gazillion times better than tv.
My gleeful sense of humour is back and I have been having a ball frightening all of my friends with photos of ‘the corpse’. It really looks just like a small, dead animal which I have brushed off The Queen to help her shed her winter coat.
As I come out of winter’s funk, my spirits soar with springtime. Queen, Finn, Rosie, Faye and Zac blossoming themselves.
This is where I realise how wrong I have been. I have said that my happiness is dependent on my animals’ wellbeing. What a great big untruth I have been telling myself.
My animals’ wellbeing is dependent on my happiness.
