It’s time!

One would think, since most of the flock decided to leave in the wake of hurricane Joaquin, that the few remaining hearty feathered souls would follow suit. Not so. I have about a dozen ducks, Franny included, who are still milling about like winter is just a rumor started by a skittish chipmunk. Not so, according to the Farmer’s Almanac. Allow me to quote: “The Northeast, Ohio Valley, northern Plains, and Pacific Northwest should brace for a slew of snow.” Have my ducks taken heed? Nope. Not even when I run around the yard, waving the almanac and screaming about freezing temperatures. They flutter onto the water and wait for the ranting to stop.


As mentioned above, Franny is still here. You’ll remember Franny. She’s the hen who, back in the spring, had Harry as a partner but failed to give him any eggs. ( Seems she’s decided it’s better to remain on my shore than spend winter with all the tourists.

Franny, in all her fat hen splendor.

Franny, in all her fat hen splendor.

You may be wondering how I know this hen is Franny. It’s easy to spot her. She’s the only hen missing lower tail feathers, giving her a perfectly round butt. One more clue is her quack, or lack there of. She can’t!

I’m not sure if Harry is still here. All the drakes blend into one blur of green, bronze, and grey, and they all strut around like they’ve got a piece of corn up their, well, you get the picture.


Now don’t go telling me that I need to stop feeding this tiny flock so they’ll migrate. Last December not a single duck remained, so I’m expecting this crew to suddenly decide that a warmer climate trumps cracked corn. For now though, we carry on.

It’s also time to put my gardens to bed (ha! get it gardens, flower beds? never mind).

An afternoon of blowing all the leaves onto the beds tucked the plants into coziness, sure to deliver a deep winter’s slumber.

Not for this little fellow though. He doesn’t want to miss any of the fun I guess.


Drum roll please. Since it’s time for a few ducks to refuse migrating, it also becomes time for the bald eagle to make a visit. No carnage yet, but plenty of fly byes with intent to pluck and eat.

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We even had a stop over. Perhaps he wanted to pick out the fattest duck for his Christmas feast. (


Sadly, it’s time for winter to clutch my corner of the Concord River in her icy grip. I should think about tuning-up the snowblower and find the shovel. Nah. I’d rather bundle-up, sit on my retaining wall, and watch my river.


Blessed be. :}

Oh, before I depart, remember to visit my shop at Redbubble ( for all your holiday stocking stuffers, hostess gifts, or just some cool items. The proceeds are going to help build Billerica’s dog park. Thank you!

About tinthia

Wondering, searching, and wandering, I'm an earth witch with a desire to get it right in my lifetime. The flow of the river feeds my inner goddess and fuels my soul. Blessed be. :}
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1 Response to It’s time!

  1. Dyan says:

    Well you are a breath of fresh winter air! I adore reading your blog and I ordered some cards for Christmas from your absolutely stunning photos! You are ever so talented Cynthia River Lady!

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