Old Friends
The morning rains, the mud, the mire Await to clutter my shoes, To soggy my soul. I need no Nike nor Reebok. For the paths I travel, It is a barrier I select. Old mucking boots, my friends, Come with me and walk my roads. My feet will sing thy praise!
The bonding
That mystic connection that instantly bonds two human beings...
crackling like an electric ribbon from one to the other...
can occur on some level between man and animal,
in that twinkling when all is openness and vulnerability.
Dare we say soul touches soul?
Some would; others would scoff.
But, I have experienced that magic of eye contact
with a day old Runner Duck hatchling;
the pull of a bantam chick that looks up at my voice
and finds me, the unknown in its world;
the will of the wounded cheepling bravely fighting to survive.
The moment catches off guard...but is so powerful
one can never doubt that there has been communion between species,
and life will never be the same.annette satterfield
November 1997
Haiku is a form
of Japanese poetry which is remarkable for its pointed brevity. Think in
terms of three lines: five syllables, seven syllables, five syllables only.
The first and last lines may rhyme, though often the effect may be better
if they don't. The poems often have some aspect of nature: season, organism,
or moment. Poems may include obscure references that require some interpretation
before the essence is seen. It's especially nice when there may be multiple
interpretations.
The following haiku are not necessarily related...they should be able to stand alone.
Stuffed Haiku poet The ink-carved line curves Unspoken verse still inside Words wash across the blank page Quickly lift filled pen Haiku comes alive Upright and running White and green ovoids Laughter in rapid motion Scattered around on the grass Runner ducks forage The runner duck eggs The egg is pipping The spent feather falls A small bill moves to and fro Patches of skin can be seen The world is waiting A time of molting Swiftly from the sky Small black balls of fuzz The hawk with open talons Newly hatched button quail move A chick is taken Exploring their world The sun is setting I smile at daybreak A time to pause and reflect The cockrel's young voice breaks Feed the ducks and chicks He's learning to crow
Home in the Yard...(To the tune of Home on the Range.)
Oh give me a coop.
Some hens in a group.
And a rooster who crows all day.
They make such a cute sound
When they scratch on the ground
And a proud cackle when their eggs they do lay.
Oh give me a lake
With some ducks and a drake
And ducklings paddling around.
I could watch them all day
As they dabble and play.
Graceful in water but not on the ground.
Oh give me a gander
Who doesn't philander
Who's faithful and true to his goose.
And each and every spring,
They'll raise a gosling.
All I can think of is their droppings are loose.
Oh the guineas are loud
As they move in a crowd
But they are so comical to see.
Their little faces are appealing
But with no brains revealing.
I love it when they all run to me.
These stanzas were inspired by Gallia, the muse of poultry.
(c) 1997 Nancy Rosenberg <nbr@tiac.net>
CapriCorners Farm in SE Massachusetts, USA
Snow drifts softly to the ground, Without a sound. Here and there making an occasional mound Over carelessly left objects that suddenly abound But won't be found Until spring comes around.
If you know limericks, you recognize the particular pattern, particular rhyme. They are fun to write and recite. Here are a few to get you started.
* * * Guineas are exceedingly noisy. They can hear mine way out in Boise. Some people abhor them But I adore them Even though they can be quite voicey. Nancy Rosenberg * * * There was a young rooster named Clyde Who washed his fine feathers with Tide. They sparkled and grew and he happily knew He was tops as he strutted with pride.
* * *
So the young duckling said to the drake "What makes you so scared that you quake?" He replied with a sneer that was brought on by fear "I've just learned about Shake and Bake!"
I work at the Ag Farm taking care of
animals and doing tours for the
kindergarten children in the city. Our incubator is on a pallet on the floor.
One morning (about 5:30 a.m. - I'm not wide awake yet) I squatted down to
check on my duck eggs. When I removed the cover to the incubator AN EGG
LITERALLY JUMPED AT ME! Needless to say, I fell flat on my butt in shock!
Took me about 10 seconds or so to gain my composure and realize what was
going on.
The poor darlin' little duckling had hatched out only his bottom - legs
and tail. His body and head were still stuck inside about 2/3 of the eggshell.
This little egg with feet was running around stuck. I wish I would have
had a camera.
So, long before I met Eggghead on Poultry Information Exchange, I had a little duckling named Egghead. The perfect name for an egg with webbed feet. I pulled the shell off and still have it to this day.
Sharon LaVallee a.k.a. Motherducker
I just recently bought four Turkens. One was a rooster which I did not want because I wanted to keep fighting to a minimum, but I took him so I could get the hens.
He was introduced to the flock. At first
he stood on the nest boxes and
crowed for a little while, and I figured as long as he stayed up there
fighting would be no problem for a while. After 15 or 20 minutes he jumped
down.
As I already had five roosters in the pen, I got into the pen just in case I needed to break up a massive battle. Another Turken rooster attacked him first, and he just took the hit and walked away. He got hit several more times, but he just took the hits and walked away.
Then the aggressive Turken rooster accidently hit the Barred Rock rooster who immediatly turned to fight. My newest Turken rooster walked in between them, stood there, and took all the hits until they broke up the fight.
From that day and forever more I call that rooster "Peacemaker".
David Maledy
The Adventures of Sam Drake, P.I. ...
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Death comes at Dawn
The views expressed on this web page are not necessarily the views of Georgia State University, Atlanta GA USA.
James D. Satterfield Canton GA USA jsatt@gsu.edu
