Iona Winter

I started this blog off a few days ago, and for one reason or another it was incomplete. Being one for tidying up loose ends, here’s the completed version of a somewhat altered chain of thought and reflection.

Yesterday I was awoken by loud bangs, and said out loud, “Who on earth would be letting off firecrackers in the morning?” (actually it was a less polite version). Having not yet done a complete year of country-life, I didn’t realise, for a few hours of firecracker noise, that it was the start of duck hunting season. Mmm, yeah, about that.

I quickly recalled the VERY loud quacking I’d heard last week, and when I’d looked up a beautiful flock of chattering ducks had flown by. EXCEPTIONALLY clever ducks—who obviously knew their backsides and bellies would soon be targets, and were getting the hell out of here! I can only hope that they made it.

Now I chose, a long time ago, to be a human rights activist over being an animal rights one. Simple enough decision? Not really, because there’s also our planet to consider. A planet where I’ve noticed a tremendous amount of grief this week, relating predominantly to the ongoing erosion of human rights (both in NZ and abroad). It’s abhorrent the way we treat one another. And, I confess, I’ve even felt ashamed to be a New Zealander at times.

No surprise then that I have a head-cold, when there is so much collective grief floating around. Like many people I know, I have several coping strategies for managing the overwhelm: baking, immersing myself in novels, creative writing, dark chocolate, and avoiding watching the news on TV. BUT this week, none of these things have cut it. Maybe I need to get it over with and just have a good bawl…or do a steam inhalation.

In other bird-related news, I noticed this week a sign advertising a local Poultry Show. I felt guilty. Mrs Poohs (see previous posts) is sadly in no shape to attend such an event. Her feathers have fallen off, along with the leaves of the plum trees—cue the onset of winter. It’s a little distressing to see the chooks looking so raggedy, but rest assured they are getting warm porridge on cold days. Yeah, okay, I do think of animal rights too—although some may think this a step too far in the chook department!

Sadly, I feel a bit afraid to go out for a walk now, lest I get buckshot in my own backside—there are guns going off from sunrise to sunset and it’s all rather disconcerting. It might be better to stay at home, tend my sprouts on the windowsill, and do a steam inhalation for the old snoz.