Toast friendly

Everyone deserves a night away.  A night away from responsibilities.  Well, away from most of them anyway.  Hawley House being pet friendly up at Hawley Beach gave us an opportunity to enjoy such much needed time away from pulling weeds, putting up fences, cleaning and baking.  Having three apple trees is marvellous until they all ripen at once.  The dreaded coddling moth has worked its way through my apples as Peter Cundall stated that they eat from one side of the fruit right through to the other then fall on the ground.  Rather than use my apples as a drive through, I'm keen to get to them before the restaurant opens.  But back to Hawley House. Set on a 150 acres this old rambling property is a private bed and breakfast home with welcoming dogs and people.  'Shadow' an ageing German Shepherd checked us in, giving our Cocker Spaniel a good sniffing over at the same time.  Bennie has limited time for social skills and will rush up to the nearest dog, introduce himself and then move onto the next one and then continue on his scented path.  It's pretty much, 'Hi, I'm Bennie, Best In Class....Hi, I'm Bennie Best in Class, see ya'.
Hawley House provides plenty of wetlands for birds and whilst they are pretty relaxed about most things, well behaved dogs are expected.  We sat outside on the verandah for breakfast (where this photo was taken) and enjoyed this gorgeous morning. Whilst the toast was cooking in the dining room I sat in the sun with Bennie when a young girl came up to him and gave him a pat.  Always the opportunist, Bennie licked the child, wagged his tail and took off towards the dining room with me thinking he was secured to the leg of the table.  In amongst the dining guests, Bennie races up to the toaster, on back legs puts his paws on the plate where the toast is and wags his tail.  Oops.  Not meant to be in there.  A few looks of disgust from fellow guests as I race in and drag him out by the lead to wait for his toast there.  So much for best in class.

The Forensic Guinea Fowl

Guinea Fowl are strange looking creatures.  We have four of them.  Two in this lighter grey colour and two that are a more deep bluey grey (very on trend you know!!).  Their heads look like they've been dipped in a bucket of white paint and they have bright pink wobbly attachments underneath.  We don't know if they are male or female as they all look identical so we don't ask any question as they go about their daily business.  We expected that the four fowls would stick together and form a posse of snake protection around our property.  They're amazing to watch as they walk around the perimeters, heads downward, forensically examining every blade of grass and patch of dirt.  If they find something of interest then all hell breaks out and the screaming goes on and on.  It's the sound of someone jumping up and down on a rusty trampoline, great!!  The excitement is usually not much more than a garden hose or something that's been relocated or anything new.  One of the four has decided she's a hen and hangs with the main chook crowd all lead by our main rooster Lewis (formerly known as Lulu until he started to crow).  The other chooks don't seem to mind and are now at the point of accepting anyone a bit odd looking into the fold.  We've got a few of those.  Our neighbours Isa Brown chooks, being the standard, fast laying (short living) battery hen of choice chicken have all but been bred out by our wandering Bantam, Wyandotte, Polish breeds and misfits.  Now  I see their coup filled with bright colours and feathered legs.  I'm just wondering if it's only a matter of time until we see some white painted heads over the fence as well.

Can you keep that noise down, someone is trying to sleep

Not a good start to the day.  Two huntsman spiders in the bedroom.  Count them.  TWO.  I detest these things at the best of times but to sneak in the open window during the night through the tiny space between the fly screen and the window, well that's just un-Australian.  Particularly when you've paid a small fortune for fumigation.  Max (pictured) is no deterrent for these unruly stick invaders. The best he can do is remove one of their legs and wonder why they don't want to play any more.  Max's hunting skills are somewhat lacking.  He loses interest in most crawling things pretty quick and prefers to spend his time embedded in a Laura Ashley blanket.  The chooks are the masters when it comes to tracking down insects.  They can spot a creepy crawly from a great distance.  Could have done with them in the room last night but the crowing thing at the end of the bed would be a problem.  Animals never fail to entertain around here.  Every morning a well loved Ute drives past with two kelpie dogs tied up in the back.  Every morning they both bark and bark with tails wagging as they go past.  And then in the evening I hear them on return still barking, tails still wagging.  I always imagine they are saying "We're off now, we're off to work..." and then "We're back now, we're back..".  Hilarious. I don't suppose they are calling out to Max.  He's busy anyhow.