They came unexpectedly

They came

The super cannon days… It has not been as cold as this since more than 10 years. There is hardly any wind blowing. It is really freezing cold.

People are replacing the petrol stove by a wood stove. It is more work, but cheaper, as wood is available for free. You just have to go out in the cold and collect it. After having brought it home, it has to be cut in pieces which cannot be done in the living room near the burning stove. It has to be cut outside in the ice cold garden.

Still I remain optimistic and estimate that by the end of the month the worst will be over.

By now, I’m having the sun tan of a ski teacher, as contrary to hot periods, I’m out in the sun when shining.

At night, the dogs living in the wild nearby are barking and howling in the village. They are howling because it is the mating season and they are closer to the people’s homes because they need to find something to eat.

Same thing for the foxes. They must be near. I haven’t heard one crying out yet, though.

That reminds me that we should have had a dog by now. The one that we “booked” at Qala’at Nejem. It is too late go and get him. He is too big by now to take in and is probably living in the wild too. I’ll have to look out for puppies nearby.

A week ago the last red hen died. The rooster had become a widower. He was not happy about it and crowing the whole day. He got 4 new companions. Adult ones this time. He is dancing around them the whole day, but they are not very keen.

It looked like the last red hen died in an accident while leaving the hen house. I found her in the door opening (During these cold days, I did not have the courage to go out at sunset to lock the hen house). I think she tripped and hit her head on a big rock in front of the door opening. That’s how it looked, anyway.

The rooster and his new hens are residing in an unfinished room next to the camping’s showers until the hen house has been disinfected.

I’m curious to see whether this lot will be the start of my own small egg farm.