BaNNeR RooTS

Chicken.

I know. It's been a while. Honestly, it's taken a long time because I've been thinking my return should be something momentous. Not earth shattering, but you know...really, really cool.

Instead, let's talk about chicken. Not chickens...the meat. You barbeque it or put it in stir fry. Or soup. I don't like it. It's a new-ish development for my palate. And it's kind of weird. I really like food.

Let's explore. The past three years, I haven't really purchased any chicken or beef for the house. At restaurants, sure. But for cooking? Nope. It definitely has something to do with the Michael Pollan books and Food, Inc. That and in the mornings, I grab a chunk of moose or caribou or a filet of salmon to thaw for dinner. You know...like Alaskans do. Or I'd cut up a block of muktuk or sit down and eat dryfish and seal oil. You know...like a native.

So it went that at restaurants, I noticed at the end of my meal the chicken was pushed to the side. Then I'd try to eat it because protein's important. But it wasn't happening. And this realization became so concretely true and definite that I once I said it out loud. Not just in my brain. And it surprised me. "I don't like chicken!" And now I can write it. "I don't like chicken."

Definitely not earth shattering. Not even that cool. But what I'm thinking now is .243? And I have to change this crazy, snowy banner.

 

 

Why is he standing on the trail?

I was supposed to get to town by 8 o'clock this morning, but instead will spend the morning with the kids. Here's the story:

I woke up and quickly learned that it's a pretty cold day after what's been a really mild winter.

 

There are two machines sitting outside the house. All I have to do is start one of them and I'm on my way. But no. I can't start either one. I try to pull start the Tundra and kept imagining him laughing at me. "Yeah right. I'm not starting. You haven't used me in days. What makes you think I'll get going now?" So I move to the GTX that has an electric start and he tells me he's too fancy and pretty and shiny to get going in cold like this. "You can walk," he says with an attitude and I kick his cowling. 

So I walk. It's about a 3/4 mile walk to where we park the truck and I am thoroughly enjoying what should be a quick trek. The moon is bright and reflecting on the frozen trail. It's gorgeous. Calm. Cold. Beautiful. I'm deep in thought, thinking about the Kusko 300 that's in full swing. It's about the same temperature in Aniak, where the teams are headed today and I try to imagine how beautiful it must be on that trail. And then I look up. Someone very tall is standing on the trail, looking at me. And I'm confused. "Why is he just standing there like that? Weirdo." And then I stop. It's not a someone. It's not a guy. It's a mama moose and her baby.

Now "mama moose" almost sounds nice, doesn't it? It's not. I pretty much hate those words this time of year. Heck. I hate moose, period, this time of year. Here's why. We got chased by a pissed off bull three years ago. Our dog Kobuk, thank goodness, lured it away from the kids and I and we were able to run to a neighbor's house. And now this lady and her kid were staring at me with their ears up. And this time Kobuk isn't with me.

So I slowly back away, hoping she stays put. I don't take my eyes off of her and she does the same. We're just staring each other down and I tell her through brainwaves, "Just stay put. I'm just going to go home. Stay there. It's OK. You guys aren't in any danger.Stay put. Oh man, I have nowhere to go. Stay. OK.  I'm glad I saw you before we both had to get really frightened. See? It's OK. Good. Good. Stay there. It's OK. Good. Thank goodness. Oh my goodness. Thank goodness. Yes. Just stay there."

And I walk home. Really fast. Looking behind me every 5 steps. Yeah, it's still a beautiful morning, but I just want to get home. Home. Home. And I do.

And I'm thankful. I'm alive. My back isn't broken. My skull is intact. My kidneys are functioning well. I have no broken bones. I do need to shower after that cold sweat and it will feel really good. Until then, I'm enjoying the warmth of indoors. It's warmed up 12 degrees inside the house since my return from the encounter with Mrs. Moose.

 
I'll make some coffee. I'll pour some hot water over the regulator so I can make some pancakes for the kids. And then I'll start one of those snowmachines. And I don't care what kind of attitude they give me.

 

 

 

Double Yolker

We're getting eggs. And we got an egg today. Check it out.

 
It really is an amazing thing to look at. And hold. And probably eat.

But I can't help but think, "Ouch."

Cool Broads & BaNNeR RooTS' first giveaway!

So we've added five ladies to the mix since our original three arrived. That's a total of eight residing on the property, laying eggs, eating what's left of the green and crapping everywhere. It's glorious.

It turns out the original three are kind of weird. The five additions are ultra peppy, friendly and laid back. What's even better is the originals are adopting the nature of the newbies. Nobody hollers at me anymore, which strangely makes me feel like a part of their club. And they're chickens.

So. Introductions.

Here's the cranky old lady. Joe named her Darla. She's the scum between our toes. Not really.

  

 Meet Juliet. She's a Barred Rock, so we're told. One of my favorite girls.

Here's the Rhode Island Red. A friend asked if we name all of our chickens after professionals. If only we were that cool. I might call her Georgia Blue.

This gal doesn't have a name. She's a Wyandotte.

And here my people, we have Snoop Dogg. She loves gin and juice. A real partier.

 

This girl's a young one. We were afraid she'd attain a complex from being around all kinds of noisy ladies who try to boss her around, so we named her Princess Andromeda. Oh the names you name chickens when your kids read Percy Jackson books. We curtsy everytime she walks near us. I jokes.

Below is our other Wyandotte named Taylor Swift. I know. It's such a pretty name. 

 

And finally. Number eight. We think she's having an identity crisis because we haven't named her yet. Whoever can give us the coolest name wins.

Winner, winner, chicken dinner. I know. That makes it seem like you'll win a chicken dinner, which you won't. It's just fun to say. Email the name for our Wyandotte to paniuq (at) gmail (dot) com.  If we pick your suggestion, you'll win six eggs if you live in Nome and blueberry jam anywhere else in the world. Wow! My first giveaway. High five! You have until Saturday, September 25th to get yer name in. Make it a good one--she's a darling!

WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER! WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER!

Three Noisy Broads

Three ladies live with us. Actually, they have their own house in the yard. They're loud and I'm pretty sure they're scared of me. But they eat my scraps and in return I get fresh eggs. Yes. We have lady chickens.

And they STINK! They've stayed in the coop the past few days to understand this is their new home. Their place smells like sulfur and vinegar. And they poop everywhere. And I mean everywhere. It's kind of weird but I won't judge.

So. Meet the ladies.

The one right up front with her butt in your face is the noisiest of all. She has real attitude and I think we'll be pretty good friends even though all she does is holler at me when I go to say hi. The others won't even look at me when I talk to them. They seriously will turn and stare at the plywood wall the whole time I try to get to know them. Again, it's weird, but I won't judge. Especially since we have three eggs for tomorrow's breakfast.

On a Bike Ride

after squishing last year's blackberries

Sid and I went on a bike ride. We had so much fun. We'd stop and explore if we saw something cool. Or we'd stop and explore if our thighs started to burn. Thank goodness Dad picked us up on his way home from softball practice. We were TIRED.

GaRUMpH!

I went outside this morning to use the bushes. Kobuk ran past me to the river and from the trail I heard a low "Garumph," much too low for Kobuk's vocal chords. I finished my business and peered from the willows and saw the musk ox staring at us.

AH! So for today the kids and I will stay close to the house and on our toes.

Our girl, bears and bat...

We had a visitor this afternoon and were we ever delighted! Cedar Justine Busk stopped by in her big red truck and played on the beach with us. Oh yeah. Her Mom and Dad came too and they're real fun. Kris taught Sidney about a bunch of bugs and eggs she found and inspired the kids to wade in the COLD river. Crazy guys. We all enjoyed a sunny and HOT day out here. YAY!

We've spotted a sow and two cubs rambling along bear mountain today and yesterday. We're hoping they stay up there and don't mess with any Banner Creek folk, because they're beautiful to see. The Mama's fur is golden and shines when the sun hits her back just right. Her tiny cubs follow her everywhere. Yikes. I think I know exactly what C.S. Lewis tried to describe when he created Aslan in his books. What were the words he used? Magnificent, yet frightening? I forget. I'll have to look that one up.

After our trip to Unalakleet, Joe starts up a game of bat or norwegian or lap game or eskimo baseball...whatever you want to call it. We, from Unalakleet, call it bat and even though it's mostly just Fen, Joe, Sidney and I playing, it's still pretty great. Oooh...maybe we'll start a neighborhood bat night.

First flowers and nighttime reading...

I came upstairs tonight and realized after long spring days like this, I go to bed so satisfied. Aaaahhh.

Sidney and I walked to the beaver pond tonight. We saw some eider ducks, mallards, snipes, geese (that Kobuk scared away), terns and mew gulls. But what surprised us was the color we found on the ground. We both gasped and relished the finding of our first flowers. Sid broke out into song "We have flowers in the spring, spring, spriiiiiiiiiiiing. Flowers in the spring." It's amazing how little plants can bring out such a sense of possibility. What else will we find? It's not even summer yet!

We find Joe in positions like this a lot, but the light coming through the door window made him look so tranquil. What's silly is the book in his hands is called Butt Wars by Andy Griffiths. It's the last book of a trilogy and Joe inhaled the first two. Oh. Gone are the days of innocent reads like Little Bear & Friends, Frog and Toad Together, and Winnie the pooh and Some Bees.

*writer's note: I am unable to make capital p's with this keyboard. AND, I do realize I've been writing a lot of "look how great life is" posts, but really, isn't spring a time full of hope? Yes, it is. Now let's break into song.

Heat seekers, geese and harlequin ducks

I grabbed Joe's backpack from under his cubby and the bag nearly fell to the floor. Mrs. Lammer even warned me, "That bag is heavy."
Joe's 2nd grade class went to the beach today for an all-day field trip. FUN! Nome has a great beach with gillies (glass rocks) everywhere and, boy, we have found one thing holy in Nome. Holy rocks. I guess it would be spelled holey, but it's more fun the other way. Joe and his buddy, Donald, were collecting holy rocks and the one rule was they had to carry them back to school themselves and I'm grateful they did. We now have more holy rocks for our holy rocks collection.


On our way home we saw an interesting duck on the river. It was mostly black with very defined white markings. We got home and identified it in the Guide to the Birds of Alaska book that the guy we saw was a harlequin duck. *flutter* Harlequin ducks are unusual to spot in Western Alaska, according to our trusty bird book and they do look as cool as their name sounds. YES!

And for more exciting bird news!!! Later, we saw two geese hanging out at the duck pond, down the road from our house. It's hard for this eskimo not to grab the gun and make dinner, but a shotgun would be loud for the neighborhood. Are pellet guns legal? I could perhaps shoot one in the head with a pellet gun. (sorry Katie, but I am eskimo)

Now for those of you who have taken keen interest in the bee problem, we have partially solved the mystery. The diggers are heat seekers and recognize a warm house when they see one. Or feel one. Or sense one. Either way, a pattern revealed the quiet ceiling starts buzzing when the outside air temperature drops during the night, while we're all asleep, however my sleep is always disturbed by the buzzing, while everyone else is calmly, angelically snoozing. Do other moms wake up from the dinkiest noises? Anyway, we will do our part to save the bees, the willows and the atmosphere by putting up soffits, which should prevent bees from entering our roof.