Day 175
Sharla and I finished up the last bit of cobbing on Siesta, for now. As soon as it dries the next steps will be to lay the first waterproofing membrane and then Siesta can be buried in dry dirt.
We also went into Missoula to run a few errands. And we picked up some nice heavy duty billboard tarps. Should have
enough for the first membrane now, and most of what will be needed for the umbrella as well.
After 174 days of posting a picture of a different species of plant, fungus, or animal everyday, I'm having trouble finding new ones. I know there are many around here that I've missed: that elusive squirrel that's always yelling at me, lots of different birds, who knows how many little insects, doubtless ephemeral growies, probably bears and wolves and mountain lions. Hopefully I'll get pictures of all these eventually, and also find the time to identify all the species I've already photographed. But for the next ten days, I'll be profiling one duck a day.
Today's duck of the day is Rocky. He had a rough start in life. Just a few days after the ducklings arrived Rocky fell into the water dish, (the sides of which were too steep and the bottom too deep; I was a terrible duck mother,) and when I found him and fished him out he was soaked and unable to hold himself up. It looked like he might not make it, and the thought crossed my mind that the appropriate course of action might be to put him out of his misery and
feed him to Sir Chops. As I contemplated this act of violence, the little duckling in my palm let out a single tiny "peep."
"What!?"
"Peep!"
"You want to live?"
"Peep peep!"
And so I put him in the sunlight in his own box so the others wouldn't step on him and gave him a chance to recover. Half an hour later he was running around his box peeping loudly and wondering where all his friends were. The rock I considered using to end his life I used instead to make the water dish shallower so that such mishaps could in the future be avoided. And thus did Rocky get his name.
These days Rocky is a healthy and active duck and his feathers are coming in nicely. As I haven't determined the sexes of most of the ducks yet, he might actually be a she, and if so she may live a long and happy life as a laying hen. Even if he's a drake and thus perhaps destined for the stew pot sooner rather than later, at least he was able to grow up among his friends.