It's Hard to Out-Fox a Duck!

 I am a bit of a stickler for clean water.  I hate when animal waterers get dirty, and always carry some sort of sponge or brush in the gator so that I can keep the buckets spic and span.  

For 15 years now, the goat water buckets have been on the ground. 

 We clean and fill them daily, and on occasion need to do a second filling later in the day (and maybe another cleaning from messy chickens - but not often).

This summer, however, cleaning out the goat waterers could easily be done 10 time daily, thanks to these two crazy quackers.  

  They seem to delight in turning the water from clear to murky brown - and do it as often as we clean the water.

Hubbs had what I though was a brilliant idea the other day.  He screwed a hook into the fence post and hung the waterer from the hook. 

 At this point, the water was just low enough for the goats to drink, but hopefully not so low that the ducks could play in it.

Eureka!  It worked.

For a day... and then two bad ducks were back to mucking up the water once again.  I am not sure how they do it with the bucket this high, but I have a sneaking suspicion that one stands on the other's back in order to adequately reach it.  Then that top duck repeatedly drops mouthfuls of dirt and debris into the water until it is just the right murky consistency.

Then off the two scurry, across the pasture... acting innocent.

Darned ducks!

🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔🐔

After filling the goat waters, I stop by the chicken house to pick up the day's eggs and give the chickens their afternoon treat.

  We average about 6 eggs daily from our handful of elder hens.  

I can only imagine how many eggs we will find each day when our new layers start laying (any day now!)

Some chickens are head and shoulders above others...."Chicken on a pedestal..."

Normally, I think of the farm as a friendly, hospitable place.  However yesterday, as I was mowing around our old "bachelor pad" (over-flow rooster house) I was attacked by a wasp (or something in the family.)

  I had my sun protection sleeves on and that darned monster stung me right through the sleeves.  Now I have a red, swollen, and hot reminder of this week's mowing escapades... not one I am soon to forget.

As for the wasps... nevermore. 

I love thistle... not it's barbs, but the flower... evokes memories of Scotland.

It appears that I am not the only one that loves thistle.

Yesterday, the thermometer reached 90 and it is to rise higher and higher each day this week.  I am hoping that after this it will cool down once again.  And if I can be choosy, a little rain might be nice as well!