Some Flowers in the Brazilian Springtime

October-November 2012; Springtime in Brazil --

Grumpy likes flowers [also Broccoli, Cauliflower, Cabbage and Carrots for breakfast!], but one of his biggest disappointments during this adventure so far has been the absence of unusual, native Brazilian flowers. My brother told me that many plants commonly seen in yards and parks in Brazil are imported from other lands. Nevertheless, I have photographed some of the more spectacular and/or unusual ones that I have seen so far, and present them here for the reader to see.

A very common shrub seen here is the Poinsettia. It is native of Mexico/Central America, and is seen in the Pacific Northwest typically during the Christmas season. I made a point, when Rachel came here with me in June, to watch for a grand display of them; unfortunately, in this climate the Poinsettia does not go into the dormancy where lower (green) leaves are shed and the spent red flowers are eventually pruned away (or cattle are used to feed on the flowers, as in fields of Poinsettias in Southern California, eh Ruth?), thus doubling the number of flowering branches the following season. As a result, the examples here look "leggy", as this picture illustrates.

 A rather impressive flowering shrub is this thorny bush. It is used for virtually impenetrable "fences", but must be kept pruned along its length, and the pruned parts must NOT be left to lie on the ground as they will take root and spread their domain far and wide!

Grumpy spied many Hibiscus flowers of various colors as we drove along, but so far has not had the opportunity to walk by any when his camera was with him. There have been some fairly spectacular trees (some of them native) which are in full-flower, but again these have appeared while riding on an inter-city bus at 100-120 kmh.

A very beautiful and intricate flower is what we call the Passion Flower. Grumpy spied a fence-row of the vine on which this flower appears. The vine was conveniently located on the Tennis Club grounds, near where Uncle Bob and Grumpy "played with" rocks. However, as Grumpy examined the vine closely, all he could see were examples of the "Passion Flower" that looked -- well, rather Passion-less!

 
 

During and after a good rain

As I may have indicated in other recent posts -- certainly in my e-mails -- it has been strangely arid (but very humid!) during this "rainy" season here in south-central Brazil. The other day, the drought [if indeed it is one] was broken with a drenching downpour, complete with flashes of lightning and claps of thunder. What to Grumpy's wondering eyes should appear but many brilliantly displaying Passion Flowers! Of course, Grumpy hazarded getting wet and immediately took advantage of the opportunity to get some photos of this rather rare display.

One other photo before I end this post is this one of a familiar-looking cactus -- Grumpy called it a "pin-cushion" cactus when he saw them on the prairie in SD. I was attracted to this sample because of the brilliant red object, which Grumpy mistook for a flower. Apparently, it is a fruit of the cactus instead.

"Headlight" Bug; Amazing Creature

9 November; Sao Carlos --

One of the surprise attractions on a recent rainy night was the appearance of this brilliantly lit bug. While flying it had a "landing light" that shone forward and downward -- far more brilliant than the two "eyes" you see here. Uncle Bob knocked it out of the air as it circled an overhead light and we examined it in some detail. 

Note below how you can see his headlights even in the presence of artificial light. Later, I took it to my room where I was told to watch and wait for it to again resume flying so I could observe (and photograph) its "landing light". As I watched, it walked across the floor -- from the bathroom where I had placed it when I entered -- in a beeline for the outside door. I had closed the door, but there was enough space under the door for it to easily go under and outside!

I grabbed a broom, which it seemed to "fall in love with" and got it back inside my room. I watched it as it moved about on the broom for several minutes -- until I fell asleep. Later in the night [don't ask why I was awakened!], there was no sign of the bug. I assume he escaped under the door again and flew off into the night to resume his pursuit -- of his "lady bug"?

Bob's Favorite Sport; Moving Rocks, Part Two

Early November 2012; On Site at the Tennis Club --

In the continuing saga of the movement of rocks, we ultimately encounter disaster -- of a humorous sort! The victory of Physics over Engineering. Keep your toes and fingers out of the way!!

In this second installment of the "rocky" adventures of the inveterate and never-discouraged Z-Brothers, we find them moving the third biggest rock from the pile on the lower side lawn into an elevated position in this meter-high rockery. Please note the use of advanced technology here -- a five-sheave block and tackle! [What is this world coming to that these two would resort to such modern equipment when faced with the trivial task of raising a 6-700 pound rock a mere meter and half above the surrounding terrain?]

After using "normal" brute force and cleverness to move this rock from its long-time place on the lower side lawn, to a judicious position below its intended place atop some previously-placed large and intermediate rocks, the brothers decided to employ a recently re-strung set of block and tackle. This set, using five sheaves (pulleys), would provide a force on the rock end of roughly five times the pull on the rope at the other end of this gadget. A carefully-placed and Mechanically-engineered ramp of two-centimeter thick lumber would provide a bridge along which this rock would be moved uphill on rollers to be positioned by the Physics-ian brother. BSME brother, the ever-inventive Engineer of the ramp-bridge, would provide the grunt-power on the working end of the block and tackle rope.

Victory of Physics (gravity) over Engineering (design errors).

All went well as the rock moved smoothly up the ramp, past the judiciously-placed bridge abutment that had been previously placed by the thoughtful Engineer. Disaster, in the form of the victory of Physics over Engineering, struck -- exactly as subsequently calculated by said thoughtful Engineer -- as the rock came to the mid-span point between the bridge abutment and the final end of the ramp-bridge. Previously-thoughtful Engineer had neglected to continue his thoughtfulness and provide a support at this critical mid-span point. 

Subsequent steps were taken which rescued this rock from its "comfortable" place in front of the rockery, to its proper place on top. No record of these "after thoughts" and actions were made. But here the rock is, nicely capping a continuation of this beautiful rockery.

Bob's Favorite "Sport" -- Moving Rocks: Part One

Late October into Early November 2012; On Site at the Tennis Club --

Uncle Bob's real favorite sport is tennis. But, for the sake of this and a few future posts, Grumpy will resort to sarcasm by depicting the subject of moving rocks as his "favorite" sport. Bear with me, please; then perhaps you'll understand why.

Bare spot on lawn defines original resting place of BR

The "Big Rock" [hereinafter simply referred to as BR] will be the subject of this first story. This rock was the largest of the lot strewn over the side lawn at the Tennis Club. For reasons that only my brother might be able to define, this challenge was the first one to be addressed. BR started out in this place, at a relatively lower elevation than my designer brother desired its ultimate place in this one meter high rockery.

Moving 1000-lb rock with cleverness

Using ingenuity, mechanical advantage and brute force, it was slowly "coaxed" uphill to a location -- and orientation -- preparatory for the final "big grunt" that would position it into almost its final resting place.

BR in its next-to-final postion

The "big grunt" was implemented by "Super-Body" Fabio, on the short ends of a pair of tough Eucalyptus poles, while my wily brother took the "more challenging" [but definitely less strenuous!] long ends. Grumpy participated by lending his tried and true "Supervisory" experience -- grunting, urging and documentation photos -- to this final brute-force effort.

"Big Rock", neatly wedged into place using selected smaller rocks

After some nudging with a metal crow-bar, the BR was at last in its place, where it was neatly "tucked" with smaller rocks into its bed for future time immemorial. The physics of gravity had been overcome. But more "rocky" challenges will be forthcoming; stay tuned!

Where in Heck is the Wandering Grump?

17 November; Campinas, S.P., Brazil --

Results of an Engineering (and Physics!) failure.

Here sits Grumpy, early on a Saturday (I think!) morning. We left R.B. a couple days ago; stayed two nights in Sao Carlos, moving rocks, and then yesterday we were joined by Adelaide and went by bus on down here to Campinas -- about 200km more down the road.

Obviously my back pains are nearly gone -- being able to participate in the Uncle B's sport of moving rocks, and all! -- and I am feeling almost like new. NOT NEW ENOUGH TO GO SWINGING ON ANOTHER VINE, HOWEVER!!!

We were met at the bus terminal by Bob and Adelaide's good friend, Sergio. On the way to Sergio's digs, we stopped at the Capri Pizzeria where we had a cheesey (and how!!) basil and oregano-flavored pizza. It had tomato slices on it besides cheese, cheese and cheese. It was delicious -- and filling! -- then we came on to Sergio's apartment where we made/listened to guitar music and singing until 11 p.m. last night. I got up at the usual time -- because it was daylight. I will probably take a nap -- or two! -- this afternoon to make up for my delinquency in sleep last night.

I took a bunch of photos of banana trees at Sao Carlos the other day. I will include a few here to show what a banana tree looks like at various stages of giving ''birth" to a bunch of bananas:


On the right is a newly- erupted banana "flower" and the developing bunch of bananas. The "purpl-ey", cone-shaped feature to the left of the tree trunk, is the flower; the small bananas are just above.

Here, on the left are three very healthy "baby" banana trees in three stages of their life. They grow for six to 12 months, produce a bunch of bananas, then die, if not chopped down beforehand. Around the base of the "spent" banana tree grows a ring of new, young plants, repeating the cycle.

On the right is an overhead view of the beginning of a new bunch of bananas. These leaves are different than the ordinary leaves. The flower part comes out of the center of this bunch of leaf-forms.

More views of plant and wildlife in Brazil will be forthcoming in future posts; stay tuned.

Concluding Saga of a Small Brazilian Dove -- Pt III

12 November; Adelaide's Casa --

As those who have been following this thread of Grumpy's adventures in Brazil, you may remember this story of the small-variety Brazilian dove that had made her nest under the roof of the carport at Adelaide's Casa. Grumpy has been attempting to provide a sequel of photos (and some video clips) of her progress in incubating and pledging her young.

Alas, when I looked out this morning, the nest appeared empty! Further, closer examination revealed that it was indeed empty. As I attempted to climb up on a pile of used tires, I detected a motion in the corner of my eyes. Investigation revealed a nearly full-grown chick! He seemed to be still feathered in what I would call "baby feathers"; he was not able to fly, although he definitely could scoot around on the carport deck in such a manner to make my attempt at rescuing him difficult.

Ultimately, I caught him and placed him back in his nest. But later, I found him again on the floor. I then gave him over to Marta, the tenant who lives in back of Adelaide and cares for her dogs and house when she is gone. Still later, I received news that the baby dove had died. A sad day for Grumpy.

Continuing Saga of a Small Brazilian Dove--Pt II

November 7th; Adelaide's Casa, Brazil--

In a recent post, I introduced a small Brazilian dove mother whom I said was sitting on one egg. I had taken Uncle Bob's word for the single egg; as it turns out, there were two eggs in that nest! No more; now there are two little, half-naked, fuzzy chicks!

I noted, when we returned from visiting Bob's friends in Sao Jose de Campos, that the mother dove seemed to be sitting higher in her nest than before we left. Sure enough, she was semi-standing over the product of her incubation! As I sought to get a photo of her new attitude, she flew out of her nest. The good thing was that this gave me an opportunity to get up closer and view what was the reason for her new positioning.

Now I shall take periodic photos depicting the development of these two chicks, hopefully even a video of the mother feeding them. And, hopefully, of these new creatures making their first solo flight!! [Do baby doves take flight instructions?]

 

Dream on, Grumpy, dream on.

Brazilian Doves

During October; Sao Paulo State, Brazil --

The other day I posted a description of the maturing life of a dove chick and its mother. Over about the same time period I had the opportunity to film a pair of wild doves of the large (25-30 cm) variety, together with several wild doves of the more common, small (10-12 cm) variety feeding on corn scattered for the chickens at Sao Carlos.

Now I want to show you both kinds in one frame so you can see for yourself the large differences in their sizes and markings. The large dove has the blue, horizontal bars on its neck on either side (an "authoritative" book on Brazilian birds shows these bars as red!). The smaller dove has three dark patches on each side on their wings.

Now we begin a new, exciting  tale  for which I introduce to you a mother dove of the small variety, sitting on a nest in the extremely convenient location of Adelaide's garage! This mother is sitting on just one egg, approximately two or three weeks into incubation, so we may be blessed to watch as this happy event as it proceeds to hatching, feeding and maybe even fledgling!

More sightings, more adventures, ... LESS foolishness [but my back is healing!!]

Story of a Brazilian Dove

18th-21st October; Sao Carlos vicinity --

A large Brazilian dove chose to make her nest in full view of the residents (all male) of the second level of the Tennis Club dormitory. At first as I viewed her, she sat as motionless as a statue, turning her head neither to the right nor to the left -- not even blinking her eye!

It was said that she had chicks, and one of the residents told of watching her feeding them early one morning. So the next morning I crawled out of my nice, warm bed [wait a minute! it is so hot down here that one usually lies on top rather than in one's bed], at the first indication of daylight. This was about an hour before sunrise. I could barely see her sitting on the nest -- unmoved since the night before, as far as I could tell.

 

As I waited and watched, she never left her nest; finally, as the appointed time for breakfast arrived, I abandoned my vigil until later. However, when I returned an hour or so later, she was still in the same position; my opportunity to watch her feed her chick(s) seemed doomed.

The next morning I was pleased to see that she had reoriented herself. I also got a short video of her movements as I made various noises to attract her attention and/or curiosity. The chick (now I could identify that there was only one) also moved for a better look at the "noisemaker".

Later the third day, the chick was sitting virtually side-by-side with its Mother. Also notice that the Mother dove's crop appears less full than in the earlier morning photo; she apparently had fed her chick and I had missed the event. 

Near sunset on this third day of my observations, I noted a rather alert, neck-outstretched posture by the mother and chick. What was going to happen next, I wondered.

Sure enough, the next morning (day four) I was greeted by an empty nest! I had missed the fledging event of the young chick.

Such is life.

Big Fish Stories from the Teles Pires

October 12, 2012; On the Teles Pires River, Brazil --

One of the trophy fish to catch on this river in the north-most area of the Brazil state of Mato Grosso, is the Giant Catfish. A silhouette of one is depicted on a viewing platform overlooking the river in front of the main resort building. On this third day of our fishing adventure, our guide set out to let us try to catch one or two of these monsters.

As was my usual method, I had Mora prepare my Salmon mooching rod for action. After a long wait (Catfish generally loll around on the bottom awaiting any morsel that may come their way), I detected a tug on my 8 1/2 foot fiberglass rod. This soon gave way to a determined pull that was the signal for me to spring into action. After a few minutes of cranking on the big Penn reel, with some give and take in competition with whatever was on the other end of my 80-pound test line, I finally brought to the surface the fine specimen shown here. [Uncle Bob took these portraits of this handsome brute.]

Happy with this catch, I soon had my outfit back in the water and within minutes was rewarded with another definite "fish-on!" signal by the lively action of my mooching rod. This time the guy on the other end of my line was much more determined to stay on the bottom! Uncle Bob took a movie of major portions of my several-minute battle; at times my pole was bent a full 180 degrees as I fought to keep the fish from diving deeper (he did anyway!). In the end, the fisherman won and Mora lifted the biggest fish of our trip into the boat.

This guy was probably five feet long and weighed about 60-80 pounds; so big that Mora suggested that Bob and I sit side by side to hold him across our two laps. This was most appropriate also because of Uncle Bob's generosity in inviting me to go on this fishing trip in the first place and offering to pay all of my expenses. Also because he is my brother, with whom I have shared so many other exciting and wonderful adventures.

I was so tired after "cranking in" these two big "cats" [and still hurting in my back from my earlier misadventure] that I kind of lost interest in further fishing for the moment and laid back cross-wise in the boat to rest. However, my moment of repose was soon interrupted by the fish shown here, which insisted on having its picture taken with me.

This was one day of fishing when I didn't have to talk about the "big one that got away".

Fishing the Teles Pires

October 9-15; On the Teles Pires River, Brazil --

Our guide with one of the many "small" Catfish we caught. 

Our guide was a good-looking, dark-skinned Brazilian named Mora; I'm pretty sure that he caught more fish than Uncle Bob and I combined. He was very skillful in maneuvering a special clamp onto the lower jaw of each fish, as it was brought alongside the boat, to bring it up for view and photos. He met us each morning at about 0600 after our breakfast at the main resort.

Mora prepared our fish lines with appropriate hooks (monster #00's I think!), and bait. The bait was sometimes a cross-section of a 2-3 pound fish body, or a live bait fish resembling a dark-colored Candle-fish. The former was used when we were seeking Catfish and the latter when we were fishing for the faster fish, such as the Corvina or what I called the Wolf-fish. Usually I used my 8 1/2 foot Salmon "mooching" rod to fish for the large fish, preferring its lively action to the stiff spin-casting rods that the "natives" seemed to prefer. The stiff rods were able to bring the big ones "to bay" more quickly,  but weren't as much fun in the process.

A batch of Corvina that we had for supper on this day.

Corvina were a fairly lively fish to catch, weighing about 4-8 pounds; fighting more like salmon than the sluggish but powerful Catfish. The Corvina were the only fish that we kept to eat later; all others were "catch and release", although I thought one Catfish would make a pretty good meal for a large family gathering!

The most unusual fish we caught was what I call the Wolf-fish. Its distinctively long lower canine teeth made it look fearsome! [I didn't take the chance to be bitten by one!] It was also fairly active to hook, jumping and cavorting for a bit like a trout or salmon. The Wolf-fish that we caught weighed about 6-10 pounds.

The most unusual and unexpected catch was some kind of freshwater ray. We hooked two of them during our time fishing; each of them were hooked near their tail, presumably because they swam over our bait that was resting on the bottom where we were fishing for the Catfish.

But the grand-prize game fish that I anticipated having the most fun catching was the ledgendary Peacock Bass -- the Tucanare, in the native language. This fish was noted for going after noisy surface lures, "tearing up tackle", biting through leader, etc. -- according to the information I gleaned from Google before I left Seattle. I had made a special trip down to "Linc's Bait and Tackle Shop" on Rainier Avenue near Jackson street to get steel leader material and surface lures for my 8 1/2 foot Carbon-fiber flyrod that I was sure would gain the attention of these wily game fish. I was "loaded for bear" -- or so I thought.

The first day of fishing down-river in a prime bass-fishing spot, the Tucanare slammed viciously into my surface lures, but either refused at the last moment to take a bite, or were clever at being able to spit it out when they found it had no nutrition. Well, I did hook one; he made an impressive leap and tore up the surface of the water heading "out to sea" -- before taking that lure with him. Darn!! [The end of my leader indicated that my knot tying on the lure had failed.] All subsequent casts with more-carefully tied-on lures failed to attract the slightest attention from this wily species.

Uncle Bob's monster 10 lb Tucanare on an artificial lure

Grumpy's one, lone Tucanare on flyrod

I may have caught one Tucanare on my flyrod, but basically I got skunked!! [I look forward to telling Linc about my experiences when I return to Seattle.] I was proud of mine -- until Uncle Bob caught this one (about an 8-10 pounder!), using a spin-cast underwater lure! And he was getting a strike or catching a fish on just about every cast! So much for the "noisy surface lure" myth! Our guide added insult to injury by catching one after another on a lure that he concocted on the spot, using red and white yarn tied to one of those great big hooks. [Reminded me of some of the lures Great Great Grandpa Z used to catch large-mouth bass, back in Haakon County. Sometimes he would snip a tuft of long black hair from his Cocker Spaniel to add to the mix!] 

I made a major mistake when I caught my lone Tucunare on the flyrod: Being the proud, self-reliant guy that I am, I stuck my index finger in his mouth, intending to lift him out of the water in the manner I usually picked up large-mouth bass and medium-size trout. As soon as my finger and thumb clamped down on his lower jaw, he bit down and proceeded to wiggle vigorously, thereby severely lacerating my finger.

More real big fish stories in my  next post.

"Roughing it" at the Fish Camp on the Teles Pires

October 9-15; On the Rio Teles Pires, Mato Grosso, Brazil --

We flew from Sao Paulo to Alta Floresta via commercial airline ["TRIP"], having taken the excellent intercity bus from Ribeirao Preto, arriving in late morning the 9th. We were met  by our favorite "shade tree" aircraft mechanic Tony Rossini, a pilot friend of his and the local agent for the fishing resort at which we would be staying for the next six days. We were driven in a decrepit old reconstituted school bus to a small dirt runway airport where we boarded a Cessna 182 for the thirty-minute flight to yet another dirt runway carved out of the jungle next to the Teles Pires river. A short ride down an bumpy, muddy road in an ancient Land Rover brought us to a jewel of a resort on the banks of the river.

Our cabin (Chalet #3, one of about two dozen aligned perpendicular to the walkway in either direction) was at the end of a 150-foot long covered walkway which had a native palm leaf thatched roof -- which did a pretty good job of keeping most of the rain off the clients. Our cabin had four twin beds, of which Uncle Bob and I chose the two furthest from each other [a sharp contrast to the way we shared a double bed when we were kids growing up!].

The cabin included a bathroom (shower, lavatory and flush-type commode -- with a seat!) and air-conditioner. If my back hadn't hurt so bad, I could have really reveled in this kind of "hardship"!

The main entrance comprised a large thatch-roofed building containing a dining hall and a large industrial-type kitchen with adjoining rooms for supplies. The dining room was furnished with a large screen TV, a Windows-XP desk computer and a couple soft couches for the "potatoes" to lounge in while watching soccer and "ultimate boxing". A kitchen staff of two or three provided three nourishing (generally too salty for me) meals a day, at 0530, 1230 and 1900. Two table servers were present at each of the meals that Bob and I ate there. At times when other clients were present there may have been one or two more servers. At any rate we were never left waiting or wanting for more of this or that!

What a life! But let's go to the next post to hear about the fishing.

A Belated Update to the Misadventures of Grumpy

Beginning October 4th, 2012; In Brazil --

I departed Seattle 20 days ago. What has kept me from keeping my BLOG up-to-date in all this time? I will tell you --  but not show you -- in this sad tale today.

I arrived with Uncle Bob in Ribeirao Preto on the 5th, after an overnight flight from Chicago to Sao Paulo, then on another flight, to Ribeirao Preto. It was late in the day (four hours later, Brazil time!) and, after greeting Adelaide, we went straight to bed.

A couple days later, we took the Intercity bus down to Sao Carlos to check out the tennis club/school. While there, Uncle Bob and I decided to "escort" a couple 10-11 year-olds into the adjoining jungle. Deep into the jungle is a lively stream following a channel about 8 or ten feet wide and about 4 or 5 feet deep. And occasional log or twisted tree trunk affords one a reasonably easy way to cross to the other side. [Don't ask me why it always seems "necessary" to cross! It just is!]

Several years ago, on a similar "safari" with some teenage and sub-teenage girls from the tennis school, Grumpy had demonstrated the quick and proper way to cross a stream in the jungle: Grab a vine and swing across! At that time, Grumpy weighed 15 or 20 pounds more than he does today,  but had no problem negotiating the stream two or three times by the "vine transit".

This time, however, the vine that Grumpy chose had a kink in it that weakened its tensile strength! Grumpy tested the vine, confirming its secure grasp onto a tall tree 100 feet or so above the ground. The far bank of the stream was a good 15 feet away, as Grumpy leaped forward to propel himself across this chasm. As my body, with legs outstretched in front of me for the anticipated landing on the other side, approached the nadir of my swing (maximum stress now being applied to the vine), the vine broke -- at the kink -- and Grumpy plopped 6-8 feet down onto his rump, into the stream! The impact of my tailbone on the firm surface of the stream bottom was apparently sufficient to fracture my #1 lumbar vertebrae. But worse than that were the muscle spasms that occurred whenever the nerves that signal a fracture were triggered! To ease the spams and inflammation (for some time I thought it was only a sprained back), I started with Aspirin every 3-4 hours (two 325mg that I had brought along; later with 600mg Ibuprofen).

On the 9th (a day or two after this incident) we left to go fishing in the northern part of Mato Grasso state. This was a primary reason for this trip to Brazil, and I wasn't about to let a little pain [well, it was more than just "a little"!] get in the way. More on the fishing trip in another Post.

We returned from the fishing trip on the 16th; Grumpy was now taking either a 600mg Ibuprofen or a 500mg Aspirin each 3 to 4 hours to deaden the pain. On the 18th Uncle Bob wanted to go to Sao Carlos; I told him I would rather go see a Doctor about my back -- I was now suspecting something more serious than a back sprain.

Uncle Bob made an appointment for that very morning to get an Xray and diagnosis in Sao Carlos. The Xray [of which I have the film] showed what the Radiologist said was a "Fratura Antiga?" [that's Portuguese for "Antique Fracture, maybe"]. I was greatly encouraged by this diagnosis in that, since I could recall no time in my life previously when I had injured my back, I interpreted this as indication that I had a fracture which was in the process of healing! And so I have continued a regimen in which I refrain from any kind of actions or contortions that may damage the healing break.

Grumpy has determined to examine the vines more critically next time!

A Young Chick Develops

26 September 2012; Grumpy's Castle --

In previous Post on this BLOG Grumpy has gushed about his new companion, Cheeper, the Black Star Sex-link chick. I became so involved with her care -- plus my own upkeep -- that I have been remiss in keeping my public advised as to her -- and my -- progress. This post will at least try to bring my readers up to date on Miss Cheeper. [Yes, she is no longer a baby chick; she is developing -- as you will soon see -- into a quite dainty young lady .. er, I mean Pullet.]

First, I want to give you some perspective as to how much she has grown. Here she sits -- on top of my camera with which I was trying to take her portrait! -- and at about two months old. She is about the same size as my camera, a "standard" size digital SLR. [And yes, I know that the photo appears reversed -- it was taken via the reflection in a mirror!]

The next picture, right, shows her next to my boots recently at about three months old, "free-ranging" in my yard. She has now the full profile -- but not the full size -- of a mature chicken of her breed. Her tail feather configuration as well as the comb on her head confirms that she is indeed NOT a cockerel (juvenile rooster).

Finally, this last photo shows her "well-developed bosom [Actually, this is the profile of the configuration of her feathers that cover her quite-full "crop". [Crop: a sort of "first stomach" located at the bottom end of their gullet and on the front side of all fowls -- birds -- where their food is temporarily stored prior to being routed through the gizzard where it is ground up by the muscular action of the gizzard pressing against the contents composed of the food plus small stones that are also ingested for this purpose.]

She still comes to me when I call her, but she has become suspicious of my ulterior motives -- she doesn't like to be picked up or handled ... or even "touched"! [Acts just like other females with which I have had experience!] So I have started having some treats in my hand so that she gets a reward when she complies with my invitation. [Another similarity?]

Currently, while Grumpy is on his fishing Safari, Cheeper is residing at Fort Bale under the doting care of her original owner and chicken-coddler. Plans are for Cheeper to be gradually integrated into the Fort Bale flock of free-ranging chickens. It is anticipated that Cheeper may begin her egg-laying career before Grumpy returns. Grumpy has requested a Lemon Meringue Pie made using Cheeper's first four eggs. [I can only hope that Cheeper won't be so thoroughly spoiled during her stay at Fort Bale that she won't want to have anything to do with Grumpy again.]

My Young Chick's Progress

Late August 2012; Grumpy's Castle --

It has been awhile since Grumpy has "groused" about things on this BLOG, so he decided to take laptop in hand and do something about it. He has been to the Evergreen Fair (with his long-time friend, Margaret), and on two or three visits to Ft Bale (written up adequately here), but nothing with photographs and poetry like the story he will regale the reader with now.

Early in August, Grumpy admitted to "taking in" a couple of young chicks. Unfortunately, one of them was either abducted or ran away, never to be seen again. The remaining one has since matured into a very buxom young lady, whose side profile is shown here.

"Cheeper", the young chick featured in today's posting, is now into her early teenage -- at least one would think so by the way she scolds me when I try to hold her to talk to her -- or even touch her!! Although she is perfectly happy -- indeed she insists! -- to sit on my shoe, or my lap -- or on my arm. She does this only when she has had her fill of food and wants a warm place to sit and relax.

At night -- actually, in late afternoon as the sun is setting -- she comes to the kitchen door, looking up hopefully, until I open the storm/screen door and let her hop in. With her maturing age and non-housebroken habits, I dare not leave her to run around the kitchen nor the rest of the house. I immediately pick her up, and usually set her on my shoulder where she busies herself with "wiping her nose" on my shirt or the back of  my neck, and picking at my neck hairs [ouch!!]. I can walk throughout the house -- including down into the basement -- and she will remain on my shoulder. However, if I go outside, she will immediately fly down to the ground and go off to mind her own business.

When it nears "roosting time", I am again "rewarded" by her desire to be with me in the house. I pick her up [accompanied by her loud vocal objections!] and place her in the box in which I have transported her from her former home at Ft Bale to The Castle, and to other places where we have visited. I must cover the box, lest she jump up on the edge and then hop down to "explore" the premises. Last night for the first time, she seemed relatively content to stay down in her box [with new, fresh wood shavings for a change!] and with the cover on to ensure that she stay there. Previous nights, she has "talked" in baby-chick language for as long as an hour, necessitating me to respond with my reassuring words -- her "cheeps" got desperate, if I didn't respond within her idea of a reasonable time interval.

I am looking forward to having her for breakfast -- her egg, I mean! -- by about Christmas or New Year's. In the meantime, Grumpy must design and build a chicken house; it must have a "Queen's size" roost for her sleeping hours, a nest box in which she can deposit my breakfast, and a means to secure the entry/exit so racoons, cats and other would-be predators cannot "horn in" on my personal breakfast and companionship provider.