The temperature has gone back above zero. The snow melts. Most of the pasture is green again.
The doors of the chicken and duck houses are opened. But don't stand too close, especially if you are a dog, otherwise they won't get out.
Grains are given to everyone. Water is poured into the troughs. The wheelbarrow is filled up with hay for the goats.
Tabby the cat sits on top of the hay; he loves wheelbarrow travel.
Behind the gate, the goats cannot wait. They eat the hay from the wheelbarrow.
You empty the wheelbarrow into the manger, but some grass seeds remain at the bottom. The goats want to eat them; they jump in to do so.
You leave, and the goats travel with you; front feet in the wheelbarrow, back feet walking on the ground.
The sheep, meanwhile, look at you at a distance. The French breed, all white, looks stupid. The Scottish breed, with a black head, looks more alert. But, standing proud and pretty in the crowd, is Lazslo, the Hungarian one; head up, thin black legs, long, curly, magnificent wool and horns; a model in her fashion dress.
The geese take their morning bath.
They dig their head in the water of their trough. They bring the head upwards. Water droplets drip on their back. Then, they brush their feathers with their beaks.
The procedure seems difficult; the geese seem to wish they had hands.
The male goose is rather aggressive these days. A female has built a nest; when you get near them, he constantly shouts and cries. You want to tell him to shut up. And you must watch out, or else he will bite your leg off.
The female geese hang around the male. They don't seem to get much of what's going on.
The ducks are happy. The grass is uncovered, and they can go marching all over once again. They march on the pasture, all together as one singing troop, on their way nibbling all the interesting things to be found.
They particularly fancy sheep and goats intestinal parasites. That's convenient.
But, one duck remains behind, it stands by the troughs. It cries and cries. That's Maureen. Honk honk honk! Honk honk honk! Oh no! What's going on, Maureen?
Well, Maureen is forgetful. And, she sometimes forget to follow the troop! So, there she stands, all alone now! Can't she go back to the troop herself? Nope, they have to come to her.
For a while the troop, in the distance, answers back to her calls. Eventually, half of them break apart, and they come back towards her. But, nearby the fence, they stop, and only the elder male keeps going. He will go up to the fence, and then tell Maureen on the side, come on, move your ass now!
Maureen goes through the fence. All the ducks are united again.
The ducks could fly. But they won't. Only in the morning, when you let them out, do they briefly stretch out their wings, between their house and the trough.
Life from the ground seems like plenty of fun enough for them.
You go have a look at the bees. Inside the hive, they are all dead. They haven't survived the frost.
