I arrived at the barn early yesterday morning as the sun was rising
through a cloudy eastern sky,
to find this little "fellow"
(I am prone to calling wild things "he")
struggling to stay afloat in the bucket of water we keep outside the barn
for passing dogs and kitties, guineas, and turkeys.
As so often happens with tiny wild things...
he must have hopped up into the bucket and had himself a good long drink,
only to find that he could not free himself from the grip of the water.
It saddens me when I find mice, toads, and other tiny wildlings
drowned in our water buckets.
Luckily, it was not too late for this fellow -
a happy ending for us both.
We turned a big corner over the past two weeks with the (no longer) feral
black barn kitties.
It seems they've come to learn that food is love and vice-versa.
Our every morning ritual at the barn is to give the barn kitties a little canned cat food.
It's more a treat than a meal.
They have dry food available to them at all times.
It's a treat they have all come to love and and to which they look forward.
TomTom (orange cat) greets us out by the pig yard each morning...
just to make sure we don't forget to come to the barn and feed him.
Bobby, TomTom, and...