What's new at The Hayward House

1) just this week launched a new web site (many and better pics still to be added)

2) began renovations on the third guest room (opens this spring - fingers crossed)

3) lost 2 cats - R.I.P. Squatter and Joe*. Little Pip and Jake the Dog are still with us (although we think Jake losing his hearing)

4) massage therapy school is continuing to be a life changing event for Michele (more later)

5) now accept credit cards (thanks, iPhone!)

6) often ranked #1 B&B in Interlaken on Trip Advisor (alternating the #2 spot with our friends at the Black Walnut whom we frequently pelt with commercial eggs. Hey, Jack and Rich--remember all those referrals?!) 

7) ranked in the top 10% of all b&bs in the Finger Lakes

8) managed to maintain work/life/school balance, good health, and cheerful dispositions but gave up trying to blog frequently.

9) got our riding lawn mower fixed - yippee!

*Gone before I could tell you that he could climb a tree, steal an egg from a nest, carry it in his mouth down the trunk, and devour it in the yard. Cool cat trick!

Feeding Frenzy

Since early July we have a feeding frenzy in our yard. Most of the resident birds--chipping and house sparrows, baltimore orioles, barn swallows, blue birds, mockingbirds, house finches, starlings, robins, grackles and red-winged blackbirds-- are protecting and feeding their young. I could spend hours watching them. 

The fledglings, who can fly only short distances, can't yet feed themselves even though they are out of the nest. Each species has a different method. Some are ground feeders, while some feed on the wires or in the trees.  But all of the fledglings, who chirp for their parents and flutter their wings, have one thing in common:  They are hungry! And the feeding is a non-stop activity for the parents.

They are an awkward bunch, with tufts of down on their heads and yellow, lipstick-like lined mouths, as they vie for their parents' attention. Watching the young barn swallows at eye-level from the upstairs hall window, feeding happens in a flash of wing and a blink of an eye, their parents arriving swiftly like Jedi fighters from the fields beyond.

Our two curious kittens - Joe (aka Secret Agent Man) and Pip are working non-stop climbing trees, hiding in bushes, and crouching under the cars, preying on the weakest and slowest. Unfortunately, they are often successful even as they duck and flinch in defense of the barn swallows who dive-bomb them while they walk in the open.

Last year while sweeping the front porch, I accidentally bumped a robin's nest. Startled, a small robin flapped and flapped in a weak effort to fly only to fall to the porch with a thump. He hopped into the shrubs. I managed to catch him and place him high in a denser shrub, only to watch him tumble to the ground several times. By this time I've got our big cat's attention. Shoot. I tucked him tightly between some branches and went back to my work. It happened again (where is my brain?). Sweep. ACK! Flap. Thump. Hop. This one I couldn't find and I felt terrible. About an hour later I see the cat chasing the small fledgling in the yard. Broom in hand, I swatted at the cat while trying to grab the bird, its parents squawking and diving at me all the while. It was sad and comical at the same time, and I never did know what finally happened to the two small birds. 

The female returned this year and built a nest in the exact same spot again and had two broods. Can you believe I almost did the same thing with the broom again? Twice?

Never a dull moment here.
 

I'll take the B

As my 12 followers have probably noticed (and those of you who read my blog but don't publicly follow) I've been silent since the New Year. No reason, really. Not bored with writing but I am bored with winter. Seems like it has been a hard one this year. Windy. Cold. Lots of ice. I'm not certain that the weather map data will confirm those facts. It's more of a feeling, I guess.

Life has picked up a few paces with me being in school. Weekend classes began at the end of January, and I feel like I've been playing catch-up with my time ever since. I don't feel overwhelmed, but my brain cells are otherwise entranced in Swedish massage, body mechanics, kinesiology, muscles and bones. I'm feeling exhausted and exhilarated, absent-minded yet organized, buried under chores but ready to open for business. How I can feel all of this all at the same time? 

I'm amazed at how quickly I learn some things, yet how slowly I'm catching on to others. I'm learning how I learn. Visually? Kinesthetically? Auditorialy? A combination of all three? I'm reminded by my instructors to be patient. Confusion is good - it means that our brain is processing the new material, and it will arrive comfortably in the land of knowledge in due time. We had our first quiz in kinesiology over the weekend and I missed 3 out of 20. That's a B in the grade book and I'll take it.

PS:  Here's a picture of Pip hiding under a hosta last fall. She's our little outcast. Squeemish, timid, and lovely.

Joe, Part II

The score:

Pip - 2 

Joe - 0 (still clueless!)

(painting credit:  "Mr. May" by Ron Donoughe www.donoughe.com) 

Joe, the Vegetarian Kitten

I just made an appointment at the vet for our new kittens, Pip and Joe. I've been watching them obsessively, noting their habits and quirks. Their new favorite thing is to climb up into the car wheel wells, then giving our guests a fright when they jump out and flee. I can almost hear them say "boo!"

Pip, in a flash of gray stripes, has been snatching moles and mice from our adult cat Squatter, who, by the way, is getting bigger by the day. It's impossible to feed Squatter separately from the kittens, and so by way of one very large bowl, she's been getting high-calorie kitten food along with her regular chow. 

Joe, however, is clueless about the joys of mousing or eating mice. He follows behind Pip, sniffing around the area where the poor helpless rodent met its fate, but makes no other effort towards hunting. Frequently I'll hear some snapping of twigs in the garden, or paws pouncing on the porch, and I'll look out to find that he is chewing on stems, or tossing dead flowers about, or munching on bugs. He's also the first at the food dish, eating aggressively with his two front paws and most of his lanky body in the bowl. Pip and Squatter grab what they can from the space that's left.

I think he's a vegetarian (my friend Suzanne would be very happy to hear that), or maybe just a bit "touched." Maybe boy kittens mature more slowly than girl kittens? The females, as the primary food provider for the litter, have to be primed and ready to feed babies. They are a little more serious about life. A little more focused on eating animal nutrients and not fibrous weedy things. Did I say "babies?" Yikes, I think I made that vet appointment just in time!

What's cuter than kittens?

About a month or so ago, Kevin was out of town, and I was changing over the rooms after breakfast and checkout. I heard a truck in the driveway, and I reached the window in time to see it pull out onto the road and read the business name on side panel. That's the guy who stopped in about week earlier inquiring about a reservation, and we got to talking about kittens. He said he had a few ferals he was trying to place in good homes. We said we would think about maybe taking one.

Then it hit me. I ran down the steps, flew open the kitchen door and there it was: A small pet carrier with his business card taped to the top. I peeked through the cage door and I see not one kitten, but two, hissing and terrified. It's 95 degrees outside. I've got a full day of baking and cleaning ahead of me, and he dropped off two kittens. Momentarily overwhelmed, I did the only thing I could manage.  I carried them into the barn, unlatched the carrier door, and walked out.

That evening, the kittens were nowhere to be found but I put some water and food out for them. All that night and the next I could hear their mews echoing from the barn. By the time Kevin arrived home, the mewing had stopped, and we saw no sign of them for days. I felt awful.

At the end of the week, however, I arrive home from work to find both kittens sitting under the truck. Hungry and frightened, they would run and hide whenever we approached, or peek out from behind a stack of wood. Slowly we got them to come out for food. Everyday they got more courageous, running around in the yard, chasing bugs, and getting closer and closer to us. One day we woke to find them on the kitchen porch, peeking into the windows and waiting to be fed. I don't think they have been into the barn since! Ever curious, scrambling around, and climbing the trees, they are a bundle of fun. We've named them Pip and Joe. 

Our adult cat, Squatter, has adapted so well. She tolerates their adolescent antics. She shares her food with them, including freshly caught field mice and moles. She'll carry her prey into the yard, make a fuss to get their attention, drop it onto the ground, and step aside. The kittens oblige by snatching it and scampering away. I can only suppose that she is teaching them to hunt like good barn cats--good girl!

I could fritter away the hours watching Pip and Joe explore their new world, wrestling and pouncing, hiding and climbing. They make me laugh, and that's a good thing. I mean, what's cuter than kittens?

It's a Piece of Cake

At 1:00 on Easter Sunday afternoon, I poured myself a glass of wine, and sat down on the front porch to enjoy the warmth of the sun. That feels so good after a cold winter.  Things were under control:  Our nephews, ages 6 and 4, were watching the movies the Easter Bunny brought them. Their baby brother was fed and fast asleep.  Their parents had been gone for two hours already, off for wine tasting and an overnight stay at the Belhurst. A long overdue, and well-deserved break without the kids. Piece of cake, I thought, the next 24 hours will be a piece of cake. 

As an extended family, we have kept busy since they arrived on Friday afternoon. We had make-your-own-pizza night, and ate the hot and gooey creations outside on the porch. We hoofed over to the dairy farm next door, pet the draft horses, and let the baby calves suck on our fingers. We played with kittens. Lots of kittens. We collected duck eggs from a barn, ate a picnic lunch and went to the Children's museum. This morning we flew kites (boy, that Easter Bunny was right on!) under perfect conditions in the field across the road. And all of these activities were interspersed with bike riding and playing in the dirt, and with a little brotherly wrestling thrown in.  The baby, who is 8 months old, watched and laughed, cried, drooled, and chewed on anything you put in his little hands, including a plastic tablespoon. That was his favorite diversion of the weekend.

At some point, however, the calm ceased and we were quickly outnumbered. Discipline and restraint went out the window.  We had no choice but to put everyone in dad's Big Suburban and go for a ride to the playground. But these kids just don't wear out.  On the way home, hovering just above the radio and the road noise were their chants, in stereo,  of "I want ice-cream." The answer of "after dinner" was getting me nowhere.  I had to outsmart them. I had to restore order and authority. Then it came to me. We pulled in the driveway, and I promised a surprise if they went right in and sat down.  "Today," I announced, "we are having dessert BEFORE dinner."  I think I saw, between their cheers of joy and chocolate-covered faces, one little spark of surprise, or was it a quick assessment of the trouble they would be in if their parents knew? Kevin pulled out the largest soup bowls we had, and offered not only chocolate ice-cream, but pudding and crumbled oreos as toppings. To our surprise, not only did they finish their ice-cream, but both boys ate all of their rigatoni, 2 helpings each mind you, without any challenge at all. We did it.

Not having children ourselves, I always wonder how parents get through it. But with a few fleeting moments of self-confidence and by thinking on our feet, we managed. And we had fun. The boys had another memorable weekend at Aunt Michele's and Uncle Sonny's house in the country. Loving these 3 little guys, watching them grow and discover the world.  That is a piece of cake. Chocolate cake, with whipped cream, and cherry on top.