Happy Hen Summer Camp

Summertime! All good girls get to go to summer camp, and my 2 hens are no exception.
So, when the girls weren't looking, I bundled them up in the old dog carrier and we were off to Das Huhnlager Happy Hen Summer Camp! The girls were a little taken aback when they saw their new summer home - not as posh as they expected.


Holy Mother of Yolks! Where are the Chippendale Roosters
Claire promised? The canoes? The worm dispenser?
Adele and Babette didn't have a room to themselves, they had to share their 'cabin' with Miss Pink - the camp counselor - and ten little foster brats chicks. Counselor Pink runs a tight ship, no slackers here.

Ms. Pink preparing to put her chicks
through their daily calistentics
Now, as I ought to have expected, all newbies at camp can suffer some harassment, and Happy Hen Summer Camp is no exception. However, this was a sorry case, because the one who did all the harassment was the Counselor Pink. She decided she needed to get the upper hand on the two newbies fast, so she proceeded to peck the stuffings out of Adele and Babette.

Now, the girls were pretty upset by the unexpected treatment, and I, their 'hen Mom' was close to hysterical. I tell you, I gave some strong consideration to preparing some nice "Coq Au Pink Vin" for dinner. My girls were upset, and understandably so - they lost a great deal of their neck feathering and suffered numerous beak bite marks.


Maybe if we hide our heads, Commandant Pink won't see us
Next morning, I was still rather frazzled, though not near as frazzled as poor Adele and Babette, who were on the verge of resembling 'turkens'.
NO, that isn't Adele on the left, but I admit, both of the girls were on the verge of looking like the turken hen on the left.

Over the breakfast table a meeting took place on what to do with the de-feathering of my poor girls. Oscar had the winning plan, suggesting giving Commandant Pink and her fledglings their freedom, leaving my hens alone in the pen. The only question was whether or not the rapidly growing chicks were just the right size, or not, to be lightly feathered & seasoned, bite-sized snacks for the local feline and coyote population.

I am pleased to announce, so far, so good. The chicks enjoy full time freedom to roam with the 'grown-up' chickens. They are teen-aged chicks now, and are certain they know a lot more than Miss Pink or any of the other chickens so their freedom came in the nick of time for everyone's nerves. As for Commandant Miss Pink, she is now so frazzled with chick rearing that she often goes to roost at the early hour of 3 PM; anyone who tends to ten rowdy youngsters can relate.


Teen-age Chicks, trying to look innocent
Adele and Babette? Well, they seem set on 'flying the coop', which of course would put them back on the firing line, not just from Commandant Pink, but also the rest of Barbara's chickens, which number in excess of a dozen chickens and 3 large, silly geese. So, against their own wishes, my 2 hens are staying in isolation for a while. They are regularly laying so they probably aren't too fussed.


Barbara's 3 Silly Geese
Yes. It's cruel to abandon one's feathered children while I fly my own coop and go about gathering vacation memories, but in my own defense, uh... well, I'm still working on that...

Double-header on the Way Home

Time to head for home and we opted taking the scenic/historic route. So, south on 101 in Hopland we visited the Solar Living Center. It's the ultra hippy, green, eensie carbon footprint center. I've stopped by there a zillion times and it's always prettier and more informative than the previous visit.


At the entrance, a wrought iron sun greets all
By the parking lot are four columns to which Morning Glory flowers in deep purple and pale lavendar climb. It emits a cool spritz of water, which is heavenly on a hot day.


Source of a nice Morning spritz
Along side the columns you walk up a hill to a shady patio covered over with fruited grape vines. I had my eyes on the grapes but they're not quite ripe yet. Bugger!


Tempting Bunches of grapes line the extensive arbor
The reason for visiting the Center is its large shop full of eco-friendly products. I managed to keep my wallet in my purse this go-round, but Barbara gave up the bucks for several nifty items.


The patio, lined with live shade cover
Not quite an hour after leaving the Center, we drove south to Cotati California. Both of us were initially reluctant, but finally we opted to visit the old Albertson homestead, where Hans & Irmgard Albertson lived with their rambunctious girls; Barbara and Suzi. Now of course, the place was vacated by the family more than a decade ago when Hans and Irmgard moved to the Napa Valley.

The old homestead was vacated so home care for the Albertsons wouldn't include tree felling and meadow mowing. Still, despite the wisdom of their move, it took me ages to reconcile to myself the abandonment my holiday refuge! From my twenties right on through my forties, I'd spent countless happy mini-breaks at the Cotati home, including countless Christmases, Easters and Thanksgivings under the loving hospitality of the Albertsons. Sometimes stayed in Susi and Barbara's childhood bedrooms, and I roomed in the 'guest house' which the old pet hospital became after Dr. Albertson retired. Many a night I happily snuggled down in a big feather-bed, happily reading Hans' old National Geographic and Der Spiegel magazines before a good night's rest.

That was then, this is now. Here below can be seen the old parking lot, the asphalt now overgrown with weeds. Behind the lot a low stone wall used to sit. Between what are now twin shrubs sit between which, used to sit, a pretty, wrought iron gate. On entering the little gate, a cow bell rang out, warning that in later years warned Irmgard there were guests afoot. I have to laugh! I remember how Irmgarrd would run out to nab me by the collar and pull me into the back door of the house before Bismark, their hundred pound plus black Great Dane arrived, yowling like a banshee! Poor boy, in his dotage what with poor eyesight, he developed a 'bite now, sniff and identify later' attitude. I can still hear the resounding WHOMP! of Bismark crashing against the front door only seconds after Irmgard hauled me inside the door.


Weeds have overwhelmed the parking lot,
home remains on left, old pet hospital on right
The house sold maybe ten years ago, to a developer (grrrrr...) who vowed to let the home stay standing as the oldest historic home in Cotati. So, imagine everyone's 'surprise' when the stalward old home, without the benefit of anyone living in it, 'accidentally' caught on fire. Accidentally. Right. I believe there is a special spot reserved in hell for land developers, particularly the selfish, lying, running capitalist dog type, which I think is most of 'em.


View of the front of the property where
my old pony Suzy roamed for several years

The old garage with Sister Suzi's painted, 'troupe l'oeil' grape vine
If you look at the little terra cotta colored window above, you can see a heart, shown close-up below. Isn't it sweet?


Closeup of Hans & Irmgard's heart
Even the old driveway is now covered over in weeds from neglect. Happily, you can still see the green and gold hillsides in the distance.


The old driveway up to the 'Alpine Pet Hospital and the Albertson's Homestead
It was fun and depressing to see the old Albertson homestead. I feel sorry for the people now living in the homes surrounding the property. I wonder if they realize their homes are former agricultural lands? I believe the reason the farms are gone has as much to do with disappearing ground water as it does development plans gone wild. Either way, I wish there was a way to convey how much living happened on that then acres of Cotati.

Visiting in Fort Bragg

Lovely Marin County Fog - COOL in every sense
As long as Barbara and I had driven all the way to northern Marin, we figured might as well drive over to Fort Bragg for a visit with Jo Beach. She used to teach elementary school with Barbara back in the day. Aside from catching up with Jo, there is the joy of smelling that lovely coastal air and those cool, cool temperatures that I for one can never take for granted.


Jo planted a classically beautiful 'cottage garden' in the front yard
 Mother Nature currently decorated the whole field surrounding the house with tiny yellow daisies, quite picturesque.

I had an unexpected treat at Jo's place. Her husband Sean is a retired State Park Ranger. They were entertaining a pair of guests who arrived only an hour or so before Barbara and I got there. A former lady ranger and her 15 year old son.

Now I, being a nit, never got the kid's name, but he is a highly gifted birder. I was in 7th heaven! The child is like David Sibley in minature. I had fun torturing him... I mean, having him go through the 300-something photos of North American birds on my iPhone. Honestly, the kid identified birds most adult birders would miss, even those in crap photos. He has already birded some birding hot spots such as south Texas and the Dry Tortugas. At his age I didn't know a Western Scrub Jay from a hole in the road. Meeting an ace birder in fledgling form gives me hope for America's wildlife.


Someone else enjoying Jo's front yard

After loads of chatting, we absconded with Jo, heading off to the Noyo Harbor for a nice lunch at a Bay side restaurant. I'd eaten there years ago, and the view hadn't changed - still often fog shrouded and the waters full of recreational boaters, harbor seals and the occasional loon.


Noyo Bay Bridge

After lunch, the three of us were attached by a fit of naughtiness and we visited the Mendicino Chocolate Company. Lord love a duck, I love me some dark chocolate drenched marzapan!

Late afternoon we delivered a chocolate-infused Jo Beach back to her husband and house guests after which Barbara and I found our way to our motel. I had to laugh; when I reserved the room, I requested a quiet corner of the grounds. Our luck, when we got the room - and the motel was jammed with summer travelers - a group of fifty b'jillion holiday fishermen were in the midst of a tail gate party in the parking lot by our room. Happily, the rooms had no windows facing the parking lot so the noise was minimal. Whew! Quite a narrow escape we had there.

Must laugh - over the years my luck with rooms in Fort Bragg often involved non smoking rooms, with windows and or/patios on which happy men smoke HUMONGOUS cigarettes, if not stogies.

We toyed with the idea of staying a second night, but decided not to press our luck. For a one night visit I must say we got our money's worth in Fort Bragg.

Jo's Calico kitty chows down:
how's this for a country comfort scene?