Category: Posts

Wonders of earwigs

Her cries ring when she finds them–

In folds of white sheets.

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Earwigs drown in oil

Dog finds, drink the bugs and fat–

Tongue touch– wet nose smiles on.

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Snow is thawing; the creek is running very high; it’s so noisy I can hear the rushing water one hundred yards away.  My neighbor calls and asks, “Are you thinking about the earwigs?”

“Yes, I am –will it be another earwig year?”

“If we have a wet spring—you can count on it.”

The dread of earwig invasion. 

This is how they are outside:

Under all the flower pots, inside the cracks of the decking, hiding in the crevices of stone comprising the outside farmhouse walls, hiding inside the cap of the hummingbird feeder (how did they climb the tree, travel out on the limb, and crawl down the foot long s-hanger, and wedge themselves under the cap. This is the wonder of the earwigs. And thousands of them.

The damage they do.

They hide during the day and come out at night to eat flower buds and much of the green parts of the flowers. Young springtime flowers are especially vulnerable to earwig attack, so those lovely flats of yellow marigolds and tender purple petunias you bought at the nursery–become swiss cheese works in short order.  It’s painful to see the plants eaten alive like this, and vegetable gardeners have their own earwig tales of young-starts devastation.

Inside the house:

Imagine this. Earwigs behind the picture frames, under the soap dish, wedged in the door jambs, stuffed inside the hinges of the cabinets, inside the inner fold of the wet washcloth hanging in the bathroom.  And, I have to vacuum them up.  Then I dump them in a field away from the house.

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Takes a storm to kill

an earwig or a flower–

Inside, out –earthly hearts shake.

We’re All Trying to Figure it Out
 
I’ve heard that animals have prescience.
Then why are the hummingbirds and red-winged blackbirds still
here?
Don’t they know about the blizzard...?
 
They smell the walking wall advancing from the west.
The pressure falls.
They feel the moisture in the air as it breathes into their bones.
The sky is dense. 
 
Relentless oyster gauze falls in folds.
Thousands of thin sweet layers pile three feet high.
Baklava and deep silence--
but not to eat--
layers mean desperation.
 
All the food forms are covered and smoothed. 
The Junco’s black eyes glitter.
Her white tail feathers peep. 
She seeks a roost, but --
will she have enough energy to last through the night?
 
Meanwhile, a farmer looks over his accounts while the woodstove pipes along,
steam rises from the pan.
Will he have enough to buy seed for next year and what about that new tractor?
 
Price rise, fall of demand--
Creased brow.
He’s turning the numbers..
 
We’re all trying to figure it out.
 
 
 
 

Moses the Cheerful has survived several feet of snow and an extreme cold snap. A friend who raises Nigerian Dwarf goats told me, “If you’re gonna lose an old goat, it will be during the winter when it gets so cold. They can get hypothermia quickly and not be able to maintain themselves—their system just tips over.”

Recipe for success:

Ziggy, the donkey was in the stall next to Moses. Ziggy’s body must have given off some warmth.

Shavings and straw layered several feet high were piled in the corner where Moses slept. Goats will pee when they sleep. And urine, plus straw, plus shavings creates heat.

Each morning I added a new layer of straw and shavings over the old layer.

A small bucket of very warm water in the morning, and just before bedtime–Moses would come running for this and suck up several cups.

Plenty of hay.

Stall doors shut at night.

Results:

Water in the buckets inside the stall never froze, even though outside temperatures were in the teens or single digits.

Moses the Cheerful was still in his bed each morning at 8 a.m. when I opened the stall door to feed and clean. He survived.

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“Good fences make good neighbors” is a line from Robert Frost’s poem “Mending Wall”. It’s about keeping a wall between neighbors in good repair. One of the men in the poem doesn’t think the wall is necessary and the other man believes a well-maintained barrier is the best way to stay good neighbors.

 Ziggy and Moses are like these two men.

Ziggy has chosen the wall and Moses would prefer a relationship without barrier.  

We’ve taken the donkey and the goat on a walk twice daily for almost ten days. Moses is always on a leash. The donkey and the goat have shared a large stall at night separated by a wire panel. They have had lots of time to get accustomed to each other.

So, this week I let them out into the big paddock together. They grazed peacefully for 10 minutes, and then unexpectedly Ziggy turned and tried to stomp Moses. I reacted simultaneously by rushing in and yelling and diverted Ziggy just before his front hooves smashed into the goat. Stomping is serious. It’s how a donkey attacks another animal with full intent to do harm. Stomping is a rapid, multiple pummeling of front hooves – drilling the attacked into the earth.

Moses the Cheerful was completely unprepared, and he seemed not to understand what was happening. It may be old age, or he may simply be innocent from living for years around other farm animals he has gotten along with. The dislike Ziggy has for the goat is inexplicable. Goat and donkey are both grazers. They are prey animals. Moses is quiet and gentle.

Often in life things don’t turn out the way we wish, because other factors than just our wishes are at play.

So be it- but Moses stays, and going forward the goat and the donkey can be near each other with a fence line in between. Good fences make good neighbors.

 

 

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When a donkey has never met a goat, and a little goat is accustomed to respect from the big ones (horses that is).  And that old goat meets a bossy little donkey, there’s bound to be some misunderstandings.

Conversations Between Ziggy and Moses

“You really stink, has anyone told you that.”

“I don’t hear you donkee… uh’ Just keep blowin’ on my white rump hairs. Ooh! Watch those lips; I’m not a lollipop you know.”

“What is this I’m smelling; it reminds me of… a mixture of pigeon droppings and chickin messin’s.”

A fair air goes ice. Moses turns around, lowers his head and moves in.

Startled, Ziggy whirls and kicks both feet up in the air.  Runs ten feet; turns to face Moses.

“Ha! The donkee’s afraid of a little-head butt?”

A truce is on for now as Moses returns to watch oak leaves tumble across the paddock. And a small group of roller pigeons stroll and peck for grit.