Giant Bird Feeder

This is the deluxe version of the window bird feeder, the deck feeder. I screwed the aluminum pie pan to the railing, where it is easy to see if it's empty. It needs refilling about six times a day. I'm offering a smorgasbord of black oil sunflower seeds, cracked corn and milo.

I keep my Audubon bird book handy. Even the resident Mockingbird comes to the feeder, plus some cute Harris Sparrows.

It's hard not to have the Cardinals be my favorite. Even on these cloudy days, when everything seems brown or gray, they are standouts. Inspired by their cheery color, I'm knitting myself a bright red sweater. They may not even fly away when I go out to refill the feeder.

The Bluejays are greedy pigs, chowing down and swallowing the sunflower seeds whole. This feeder offers a choice of take-out or dine-in.

The other day, when it was snowy, I had to keep sweeping off the deck. Plenty of seed falls through the cracks, not in a bad way,  for the birds feeding under the deck.

One of the special functions of the deck feeder is it provides an Entertainment Center for naughty Iris.

The Outside Critters

Marmalade is the latest cat to show up for food. He's pretty wild, having come around last year but not staying to have a snack then.

The problem of course is the dog. Although Beau lives with two indoor/outdoor/indoor/outdoor cats, he goes sort of berserk when any strange cat shows up. He lunges himself at the sliding glass door to the back deck. I'm trying to train him to accept another feline.

When Marmalade tamed down enough to let me pet him, I let Beau smell my hand to get the drift that I was fraternizing with the enemy outside. Once, I put Beau under restraint in a far room when the cat was eating. Usually, Marmalade comes after dark. One night, he was patiently waiting for grub while the snow gently covered his back. Poor baby!

At this point, I think this cat would come inside. However, there's the matter of  lamp shades. Just last week, I replaced yet another one. A fly was buzzing around the light when Iris sprang for it, bringing the entire floor lamp down. She no doubt was emulating her African relatives.

A chase involving the big dog and a strange cat doesn't bear thinking about. I still recall the fiasco with the bat flying around the bedroom with two cats and the dog in hot pursuit.

There have been other wild cats here. There was Fluffy, the one with matted fur and Midnight, a black one that only came after dark. I prefer to believe that they migrated to other environs, rather than that they met with untimely ends. Chris tells me that my place has not been a haven for cats. Nine cats, even some indoor ones, have died or gone missing in the years since I've been here. Even though the playhouse has a cat door and a pillow on a table by a window, I have never seen one of the "wilds" using it.

The word "feral" is popular now, to describe homeless cats. Somehow it conveys a picture to me of  a bobcat or a cougar. I did see bobcat tracks in the mud down at the river one summer, too cool.

Speaking of wild things, here is one of the resident 'possums. He was hiding from me in the chicken coop. Adorable though they are, they do like eggs, so I shooed this guy out before shutting up the flock for the night.

When I lived at the farm, I found a possum in one of the nest boxes, waiting for a hen to lay an egg in her opened mouth. I know it was a female, because I could see tiny pink babies in her pouch. That was a great treat for me.

Beau cannot resist possums. He acts like they are his favorite stuffed toy. He carries them around for a while and then, finding them strangely unresponsive, he lays them down. He must have a gentle mouth, though, because no matter how many times he gets one, it is able to recover shortly and waddle down to its home under the playhouse.

I sometimes toss over-ripe bananas or apples under the playhouse, just to help the possums get through the bug-less winter.The bigger one, possibly the mama to this one, is a beautiful silver. I don't name them, preferring to call them all "Sweetheart."

The River in Winter

The Grand River is quite entertaining. This year, the banks changed from lots of sapling trees to lots of sand, due to the high water all summer.

Since I was down there the other day, the river apparently came up, froze along the edges and then went back down. It left these big slabs of broken ice. Okay, I admit it was too cold for me to check on it, being minus three degrees. The wind chill was minus fifteen, making me not really care what the river was doing.

This spot is the beaver slide, much steeper than it looks. Beau is not venturing down it. All that water left ripple marks everywhere, very pretty in a tropical beach sort of way, except for the ice.

This picture was taken on Wednesday. On Thursday, the temperature got up to 55, but another cold spell awaits on the weekend. Such is winter in the Midwest. I am grateful for these little warmish spells, when I am tempted to plant the garden. The only thing that is stopping me is the ground is frozen.

Free Range Flock

It turns out I was needlessly worried that Rupert the Rooster would lead the girls astray. Lissa encouraged me to let them all out, assuring me that they would come in at dusk. They do!

Here, they are racing towards me, expecting bread crusts or some other wonderful treat. It's true, they are spoiled. Their favorite snack is pancakes, which they encourage me to hold while they gulp them down.

Buffy still gives Rupert a wide berth, but the entire flock of four are seen here and there, enjoying their freedom.

Beau doesn't look twice at them, and Sandy has learned they are not to be bothered. Lissa says that a rooster will fight off a critter threatening his girls. Rupert does flap his wings and look menacing.

The ground under the apple tree has been downright cultivated by the chickens. Overwintering insects there will not be resuming their destructive little lives in springtime.

On drizzly days, the chickens' feathers repel the rain, except for the rooster, who looks kind of scrawny about the neck when wet.

On bitterly cold  or snowy days, I keep them inside, but otherwise they are free to roam. I may have to fence off some of the flower beds when the daffodils and Siberian Irises come up, but will leave their dust bath spot.

In exchange for their freedom, the hens are giving me a few eggs weekly, which is pretty good for this time of year.

The added benefit was the hens regained their back feathers, missing all summer. With something else to do besides service them, Rupert turned his attention to scratching up fallen leaves. It's good for a guy to have a hobby, I always say.

Stocking Up on Seeds Time

                                                     My Research Coffee Table

Christmas brought some fabulous gardening gifts. My friend Karen found out somehow that I was gluing my old Annuals book. She surprised me by replacing both it and the Perennials one. Learning from some source that I have trouble keeping track of the days, she also got me this cute cat calendar. From my granddaughter Carolyn, home for Christmas from college in faraway Georgia, I received this Old Farmer's Almanac, without which I cannot live. Notice inside the front cover is a deal from Parks Seeds! Nothing gets done without coffee and fresh half  and half, plus Isabelle's homemade biscotti, to die for. I'm spending my Christmas cash from my son Chris on more daylilies.

Now, down to business. It would seem that after all these years of making garden plans, I'd have an easier time of it. Not true.

              The Frost Date

For starters, there is the frost date. That has to be known in order to plan when to start the indoor seeds, which are all figured  weeks from last frost as the rule. Of course anyone would know when the last frost happens. In Missouri, though, the last frost can be four weeks after the "usual" date.

To make it more challenging, we frequently have temps in the eighties in March. Then it can snow on the daffodils in April. In fact, it almost always does. They don't seem to mind a lot.

My records at this location, where I've lived the last eight years, show frosts usually in April but slightly more in  May, so I have to toss out the generally accepted April date, and wait. The odd thing is that the last frost is only known in  mid-May when it becomes apparent that I could have planted my seedlings four weeks earlier. That's all very well, better late than too early, but what about the broccoli and cabbage, that like cool weather? They have to have enough leaves that frost doesn't bother them unduly, so I am starting them under lights in February.

                                                      What the Seed Catalogs Don't Tell You

The next problem is reticence on the part of the seed companies. Yesterday, I considered ordering some carnation seeds. I checked several reference books about them, finally getting the truth in an old volume. It revealed  that carnations prefer cool damp summers. Why not be up front and mention that at once? I see where the seed companies are motivated by sales, but why should the other references withhold this valuable information?

My problem here in the Midwest is wildly fluctuating temperatures and moisture.  This year,  I think I'll just ignore all plant lifestyle preferences, start all sorts of flowers and see what survives.

                                                       The Co$t
Those of us who do not  have unlimited seed budgets have to shop around for the most seeds per packet and lowest price. Once again, my biggest order went to Pinetree Garden Seeds (superseeds.com).  Then there are the must-have varieties only offered by one company, such as Little Sweetie Peas from Stokes and Long Season Beets and Bravo Cabbages from Harris. I have to have those.

                                                    Other Considerations
For the vegetable garden, there is the fun of checking last season's planting notes and making appropriate crop rotation plans. It's enough to make my head swim. I also like to plant by the light or dark of the moon, but not when starting seeds under lights. Let's not get carried away. For seeds that I've saved, I check my list of vegetable seed viability.

The midwinter high spot for me is the meeting of the family gardeners at Planters in downtown Kansas City.  There, we will get our bulk seeds, spices, special potting mixes, more plant pots and trays. I can barely wait.



Meanwhile, I'll continue to burn my mind to a crisp placing the seed orders.