Saturday, January 30, 2016

Cat sitting, continued

Rocky continued to cower beneath the towel for four days with no visible signs of performing any bodily functions, eating and pooping in particular. “I’m afraid he will die of constipation before you get home,” I told Jane Monday night.
Rocky cowering under the towel.

“That would be something of a relief,” she replied, since all Rocky ever does at home is hide in the basement, “but I know you would feel bad about it. Maybe you should just take him back to my house. He only eats dry food anyway. You can check on him once a week.”
I skipped the optional meeting I had Tuesday afternoon to take Rocky home. As I predicted, I only had to put the cat carrier in the kennel, and he crawled right in. Jane emailed me twice and texted once with instructions on where to find the covers for the furniture, where litter boxes had to be moved from the garage into the house, could I check on the box turtle’s water as long as I was there, and so forth. Email has become our preferred communication method. Phone conversation has been difficult while she has been in Florida. For some reason, the calls get dropped after 4 minutes.
I left Rocky in the carrier until all was ready in the house. I opened the carrier door, and he shot out across the living room and to the basement, never to be seen again. I checked on him again when I had to be in Elgin two days later for a doctor’s appointment two days later. The dry food had gone down, and there were two poops in the litter box. All good.
Skippy was happier too. The boys get along okay at Jane’s, but being together in a kennel put a strain on the relationship. Skippy complains about being in the kennel and takes exception to only having five minutes of pets and belly rubs in the morning. I remind him that if he was at the real kennel, he wouldn’t get out at all.
We have lap time after supper when he’s in the mood. Sometimes he just paces around the chairs and does random walk-overs. At other times he settles in quite well. He loves the red blanket.
Skippy lays claim to my lap
And settles in between my legs.
In other news, Gracie and/or Nadia have started laying again! We have had two white eggs this week.
The return of white eggs from the Silver Crested chickens
Hilda and I had a lovely walk to the creek today. It was 40° and calm. It almost seemed like spring except for the winter sun. We are hoping that we don’t get smacked with another ice storm Tuesday, but the El Nino pattern is likely to produce another warm wet front colliding with a cold one.  Not much we can do about it.
 
The winter sun on a cloudy afternoon



Sunday, January 24, 2016

House guests

We’re cat sitting for Jane’s two cats while she is in Florida for a few weeks. Skippy is friendly and sociable, but has to be watched because he chews on wires. Rocky is the quintessential fraidy-cat.  Even Jane hardly ever sees him.
Jane drove up Thursday afternoon before to deliver the kennel, food, and other cat supplies. We got the kennel set up and tried to figure out what to do about cat beds. We ended up with one bed on top of another, thinking that the extra insulation would be good on the cold tile floor.
There was some question about rounding Rocky up when it was time to come to my house. When I was done at work Friday, I went to Jane’s to pick the cats up. When I arrived, Rocky was nowhere to be seen. When Jane spotted him upstairs earlier, she shut the door to the basement. Experience suggested that once he was downstairs, he could never be found. He was doing a darned good job hiding upstairs. We checked under and behind all the furniture. No Rocky. I looked under one of the reclining chairs in the living room one more time. I pulled out the foot and saw that the fabric beneath hung down suspiciously. I reached under and determined that it was filled with something of considerable mass. I tried extracting the cat from the front but only managed to get grease spots on both sleeves of my good yellow oxford. I knew I should have brought my play clothes. We folded the foot up to the chair again and tipped the chair forward. From there, it was possible to grab Rocky by the nape of the neck and extract him.
Skippy was an easy grab. We put the carriers in my car, and off I went. I put both cats in the kennel overnight to give them some time to get used to their new surroundings. Rocky claimed the bed, which made it obvious that there was no room for Skip. I took the top bed out. Both of the boys cowered in the corner behind the remaining bed.
Skippy (all gray) and Rocky (gray and white) cowering in the corner of the kennel behind the cat bed

I put the second bed in next to the first bed. Not having anywhere else to go, they both lay on the larger bed. 
The boys share the large cat bed

As they grew a little more comfortable, Rocky took the smaller bed, and Skippy stayed on the big bed. I put a towel over Rocky because he likes to hide. Since then, I have only seen him out this morning when I first got up. He took one look at me, and crawled under the towel. I am much too scary for him.
Skippy on his bed; Rocky under the towel
On Saturday morning, as a precaution, I closed the doors to the closets, store room, kitchen, and bedroom before opening the kennel to put in fresh food. I was particularly concerned that neither of the cats got into the store room. Della had peed back there once, and the presence of cat urine is a big sign to other cats that says, “Public Rest Room.” When it happened, I cleaned the area with every cat pee treatment known to man. To this day, when temperature and humidity conditions are just right (or just wrong), I can still smell it. It is a good bet that a cat can smell it any time.
Skippy was more than ready to be free. As soon as I opened the kennel he was out. And he took off to the one place I hadn’t thought of—under the stairs. Oh well, I thought, he’ll come out eventually. In my next thought, I solved a mystery from long ago.
When we first moved into the basement with Della, there was a period of time when I smelled cat pee at the bottom of the stairs. It couldn’t be, I told myself. The bottom of the stairs was outside the basement door. Della had never been there. I now realized that the pee had not been in front of the stairs, but underneath them. I also had the sinking feeling that it would behoove me to get Skippy out before he had a chance to mark his territory.
The space under the stairs is filled with remnants of the house construction plus a table saw. I rolled out the table saw and discovered that my path was blocked by a shelf about two feet off the floor.  I moved the paint cans that were under the shelf and crawled past the assorted lumber and rolls of leftover linoleum. Skippy was as far back as he could be. As I approached, he tried to crawl behind the drywall, but didn’t get far.  He turned around to face me again. Flashlight in one hand, I grabbed his front feet with the other and began inching my way backward, dragging him through the dust and cobwebs.
He went back in the kennel for a time out. I went to the bedroom to put my clothes in the laundry basket. Newly attired, I did what I could to blockade the area under the stairs. I let Skippy out again, and he proceeded to dust behind the dressers. Still, he didn’t get under the stairs. Eager though he was for attention, he would not hop up on my lap, even though I had his favorite red blankie spread over my legs. I sat on the floor, and he circled around me, purring and rubbing his head and back on my outstretched hand.
When I got tired of keeping track of his whereabouts, I put him in the kennel again. He was NOT pleased. Interestingly, he did the same thing many of us do when we are angry and frustrated. He picked a fight with his roommate. Growls and hisses ensued. After a brief boxing match, they settled down again.
He ran out again this morning as soon as I opened the kennel. He disappeared while I was making my tea. I was distressed to see him reappear on top of the table saw. He had climbed over my barricades. I gave the problem to Terry suggested that perhaps something could be done with the netting that we use to keep the birds from bashing into the window during nesting season. He collected the materials and in a few minutes had it installed. We’ll see how that goes.
The net under the stairs

We had a breakthrough this morning. Skippy hopped up on both our laps. He didn’t stay long, but I think that will change. He could be out of the cage longer if he would just settle down where we could see him. It’s hard to explain things to a cat. The first days are the hardest. We will get into a routine before long. I hope.



Monday, January 18, 2016

Martin Luther King Day

Two words for the weather today: clear and cold. Here is the weather station when I got up at 5:00. Note the sad face which goes with the low humidity. Note also that it was chilly in the kitchen until the furnace got geared up for the day.
The weather station was sad today


Nothing to be done but make a nice bowl of hot oatmeal. I put in some dried apples that I made last fall along with raisins that came from a much warmer place.
Oatmeal for breakfast

I had Martin Luther King Day off for the first time since I was a Federal employee. Frankly, I think Dr. King would have wanted us to be in school. It is hard to argue with a 3-day weekend, but having this Monday off means that the class schedule will end with Monday right up to Finals week.
Classes start tomorrow. I am in my usual I-don’t-want-to-go-back-to-work funk. I love my job. I am one of the truly fortunate persons who can make a decent living pursuing my passion. I might even change a life or two in the next 16 weeks. What I don’t like is rushing around in the morning. I like to lie in bed for a little while before getting up. I like to sit down in my jammies and have a cup of tea before I start my day. I like wearing sweats instead of teacher clothes. I like doing my little writing projects, feeding the chickens in the daylight, putzing in the kitchen.
Tonight I will pack my lunch and lay out my clothes, hoping that the pants will still fit after 5 weeks on holiday. I’ll get right up when the alarm goes off tomorrow morning, unload the dishwasher, exercise, do the chicken chores in the dark, take a shower, eat breakfast, brush my teeth, and head out into the cold world with a pint of tea in a sippy cup. Rush, rush, rush.
Yet every semester goes faster than the one before it. In the blink on an eye, it will be May and time to plant potatoes. We’ll get though another winter somehow.

Monday, January 11, 2016

Hot tamale failure

Hilda and I made tamales on Saturday. This was my first tamale making experience. Hilda had done it before years ago. I saw the recipe on an episode of Cook’s Country on PBS. These were not Mexican tamales, but Delta hot tamales, where the Delta refers to the Mississippi River Delta in Cajun country.
We began by making a spice mix. This mix was included in the corn meal (notably not masa) outer covering, the meat mixture, and the stewing (not steaming) liquid that would become the sauce.
The spice mixture
The corn meal was mixed with butter, water, and the spice mixture.
Mixing the corn meal stuff
Hilda measured it in 1.5-Tablespoon aliquots.
Aliquoting the corn meal stuff
We mixed ground beef with spices, a bit of the corn meal mixture, garlic, water, and baking soda, and measured it out in 1.5 Tablespoon aliquots as well.
Aliquoting the meat stuff
The directions said to spread the corn meal stuff on the smooth side of the corn husk. Which side would that be? They looked the same to me. I was supposed to make a 3.5” square. This went a lot faster when I realized the blade of my offset spatula was exactly 3.5” long. I rolled the meat into a log and put it on the corn meal square.
Assembling the tamales
After rolling the tamale in the corn husk, we tied packets of six tamales together for stewing.
Stewing the tamales
After 30 minutes, we removed the tamales, boiled down the steaming liquid and thickened it with corn starch. We tried one tamale and it was okay. We saved the rest for supper.
I steamed the tamales to reheat them. Half of them stuck to the corn husk. Half of them didn’t. Hilda had a total disaster when all of her tamales stuck. We don’t know if it was the steaming or not finding the smooth side of the husk.
One of the tamales that came off of the corn husk with the not-good sauce

And the sauce was too salty, too spicy, and tasted bad. Completely not worth the night of heartburn that followed. It looked nice on the plate, but we’re declaring this one a failure. No need to save this recipe. I still have a gazillion corn husks. Maybe I’ll try Mexican tamales some time.

Sunday, January 3, 2016

Joy and Sadness

In between getting my blog posts from Belize done, we had a nice Christmas Observed with my brother and sister-in-law and a good ham dinner with a few friends on Christmas Day. Mom, Dad, Terry, and I had champagne, shrimp cocktail, cheese fondue, and deviled eggs for New Year’s Eve—and were in bed by 9:00. It was midnight somewhere. I made caramel rolls for breakfast on New Year’s Day. In a surprising breech of protocol, I actually stayed awake through the entire broadcast of the Rose Parade. Pat, Nancy, and Jane came for dinner and games later on. Nancy made a wonderful chicken pot pie with biscuits on the top. We were treated to a spectacular sunset that spread over the whole sky.
Fantastic sunset on New Year's Day
Just before the guests arrived on Friday afternoon, I got a call from Diane to arrange lunch on Saturday. That too was a nice visit, and the last get-together of the holiday season.
Sadly, yesterday morning Hilda saw that Kirsty, one of the Buff Orpingtons, was hunched, fluffed up, and lethargic in the coop. After Diane left, I went out to check on her. She was perched at the edge of one of the nest boxes. There was something that looked vaguely like egg white in the nest box and a puddle of cloudy fluid on the floor underneath it in the storage side of the coop. I cleaned the floor first. When I went into the chickens’ side to wipe out the nest box, Kirsty was on the floor, but it was impossible to tell if she had fallen or jumped. She was too weak to fold her wing to the side of her body.
I resolved to move her to the garage so she could at least be warmer in her last hours. By the time I got an old towel to wrap her in and a box fixed up with wood chips, she had died. At least she didn’t suffer long. Terry took her back to the trees and left her for the coyotes. The ground was too hard to dig a grave.
Kirsty before she took ill

This is the third chicken that was have lost to some kind of illness. We learned from the first two that it is pointless to try to intervene. We have learned not to worry that the illness will spread to the rest of the flock. We haven’t learned how to not be sad.

Saturday, January 2, 2016

Belize, Day 5: Maya Ruins and Iguana Conservation

I didn't notice a little gift left by the housekeeping staff until I needed a tissue Wednesday morning. Isn't it cute?
A smiling tissue
We got an early start to try to beat the tour buses from the cruise ships to Xunantunich. As we crossed the Mopan River on a hand-cranked ferry, the ferryman pointed out some bats hanging on the underside of a tree. They are well-camouflaged. Look for the slightly darker bumps on the right.
Bats roosting on the underside of a tree (right)
The gate across the road to the ruins was of a different design that we typically see  in the U.S. It was a pole with a weight on one side and a rope on the other. Having lived for 13 years with a gate that swung sideways, which I had to walk across the driveway every day, I loved this design. All you have to do is release the rope, and up goes the gate. Brilliant.
A Belizean gate that goes up and down  instead of swinging sideways
Barnaby started our tour with a brief history of the Maya. There were 1.5 million Maya in Belize in 600 A.D. The Belize River valley was very densely populated. As a point of comparison, the population in Belize today is 350,000. There are over 600 documented Maya sites in Belize and Maya artifacts in most Belize caves.
Barnaby gives us a brief overview of Maya civilization
Xunantunich was mostly used for ceremonies. Here we are on the east facade of El Castillo.
Group shot on El Castillo
We weren't the only ones on that side of the ruins that day. This is a black spiny-tailed iguana. Note how the sides of the structure look like piles of small rocks. These were originally large blocks of limestone that were broken up by tree roots after the site was abandoned in 1050 A.D.
A black spiny-tailed iguana on the side of El Castillo.
I made it abundantly clear that if anyone was afraid of heights it was perfectly okay for them to not climb to the top. In fact, Kate was conflicted about it and would be happy to walk around. But everyone did it, and for some this involved overcoming considerable trepidation.
Left to right: Megan, Becca, and Amanda G. at the top looking out over Belize and Guatemala
We climbed down and went through the ball court on our way back to the van.
Barnaby and the students standing in the ball court
Running short on time, as we always seemed to be on this trip, we went to the Iguana Conservation Project right after lunch. Nigel was our tour guide and explained the Conservation Project to us before we went into the screen house where the iguana are captively bred.
Nigel explains captive breeding of iguanas in front of the screen house where the iguanas live
 We went into the screen house, and Nigel helped everyone who was willing hold an iguana.
Left to right: Kaina, Megan, Becca, and Mel with their new friends
Next, Nigel gave us leaves so we could feed the iguana. Kate was very brave and got close enough to get in on the action.

Kate feeds an iguana
Here is a video of me feeding my iguana, taken by Kate.


We went to the next room to hold the baby iguanas. They are getting pretty big. I think this must be the same batch we saw last year. Nigel asked who wanted to hold them all. Kaina was one of the volunteers.
Kaina with lots of baby iguanas

Kate was very, very brave and actually held one of the punier babies.
Kate holds an iguana! Does her smile look forced?
After a thorough hand washing, we went to our last stop of the day, Cahal Pech. Cahal Pech was a residential and administrative center during the peak of the Maya civilization. Even after the collapse of the Classic Maya civilization, trading continued in the plazas. Here is a picture of Plaza A.
Plaza A at Cahal Pech

The Maya used a Corbel arch, which required thicker walls than a round arch. Barnaby suggested that the Maya knew about round arches but may have avoided using them because the circle was a sacred symbol for them.
Corbel arch
The Maya also had a version of the spiral staircase.
Looking down a Maya spiral staircase made with perpendicular angles
We got back late to the lodge and had supper at 7:30. After such a long day, the fruit punch was a most welcome refreshment.
Fruit punch adorned with a snail-shaped lemon wedge
In the middle of supper, Megan jumped, looked up and behind her, and said, "Did something just fall on me?"
Nothing seemed to be dripping from above, so she went back to eating. I think it was Kate who said, "Something did fall on you! There's a tiny gecko climbing up your rice."
The gecko had picked a good target as Megan was not at all squeamish about crawly things. She picked the little guy up and held it so I could take a picture.
Megan's tiny gecko--so adorable!
After supper, Rupert surprised us with a burlap cacao sac. He gave us one last year, but this year, he decorated the back. We had all the students sign it. Kate will keep this one in her office.
Rupert presents us with a burlap cacao sac. It says, "Presented with [hands and heart image] from Rupert Errol Smith, Quality Leader to the group of Xiban River Farm Tour and Maya Mountain Cacao LTD Processing Facility visit on 14th December, 2015"
And we spent the next day getting home. We totally need to re-think that entry through Miami. But we made it to Chicago all in the same day and did not spend the night in the Miami airport. We must take what victories we can.