On the lookout

The osprey has been hanging around all week. It sits atop of a tall tree limb and eyes our big pond. And in turn, Kevin and I eye him. One morning we sat over twenty minutes under cover to see if we could witness the swoop and capture. He wasn't budging. We got bored and went inside. Then, about an hour later, I saw his silhouette from the corner of my eye. We rushed out to see. I couldn't make out if he had anything in his talons, but the pond seemed calm. There were no ripples or splashes to indicate he caught a trout.

Kevin and Martin finished the shelter and Martin brought over his three young bulls this week. We have barbed wire fence that surrounds the pasture area and for large animals, it's perfectly fine; however, these young bulls look for every opportunity to slide under or through gaps in the fence. Martin thought he had secured the fence, but we soon learned these little guys are pretty sly. Every day so far we've found them somewhere on our 'manicured' property... munching away. They have 10 acres of green pastures to roam and eat, but nooo, they are somehow convinced the grass is greener on the other side.

Yesterday, Martin came over to secure the fence once in for all. He was sure we would not longer have any problems. Kevin and I walked up to the entrance gate after lunch and there were the two smaller bulls. The third bull made his way back to Martin's restaurant. He must be a homing bull. Right now it's not a huge problem guiding them back into the pasture (it's a bit of a nuisance, but not a problem per se). They're small and docile. They're very cute, but when they get bigger, they're much harder to manage and not quite so friendly.... pretty aggressive, actually... so we want to make sure this fence issue is resolved because I ain't no matador! Frankie on the other hand, I think she missed her calling as a herding dog. She was barking and nipping at their heels, prodding them to move forward. Then she remained at the gate, marching back and forth like a sentinel. Kevin and I walked back down to the house expecting her to follow, but she didn't. After a while I went back up only to find her still guarding her turf. One good thing, the baby bulls were still in the pasture. Good job, Frankie!