Ping II




Why Ping II? Because last year we had another foster duckling Melissa named Ping. It's been a year, so I think I can write about it now.

Seems like every summer the last of the duck eggs takes too long to hatch, so by the time this duckling is out and ready to go, Mama and the others have already left the nest. The duckling doesn't imprint on his mama, and gets lost a lot.

That's what happened to the duckling above. His name is Ping II. He lives in a box in the basement at night, then hangs out in a nice cage in the shade during the day, surrounded by curious chickens and interested ducks and fascinated kittens.

What happened to Ping the First? Late June, 2006, Melissa was gone all day working at our friend's chicken processing plant. I had this great idea to put Ping out with Daphne (his mother) and the other ducklings to see what might happen. I watched from the front door, checking every 10 minutes. When Ping couldn't see me, he started following the other ducks. Daphne didn't peck him, so he seemed to be accepted into the flock. So far, so good.

I was pretty pleased with myself, so got a little cavalier about checking. Thirty minutes passed before my next check. This time I did a quick head count of the babies waddling through the grass...only 9, which meant Ping was missing. I ran for the barn, and found him just inside, dead. Either a chicken or a duck killed him.

Then I started worrying about the bottle lamb I was feeding. Something was wrong with her insides---she was eating but not growing---so we didn't want to sell her to another farmer to raise. Melissa thought the lamb should begin socializing with the flock, so had put her out in the pasture with the other sheep that morning. At noon it was nearly 100 degrees, and I began to worry the lamb wouldn't be able to stay cool, since she still didn't know how to drink from the water trough. So I brought her back into the barn where she'd be cooler, fed her a bottle of milk, and put her in her pen.

An hour later I went to check on her. She'd gotten out of the pen, into the chicken house, and eaten something that made her sick. She was on her side in the chicken house, dead.

Heck of a day. And I still had to give Melissa the news about Ping and the lamb when she got home.

So this year, when Melissa found herself with another foster duck, she resurrected the name Ping...and gave me strict instructions not to try any sort of Duck Integration experiment. I heartily agreed, so Ping will be Melissa's baby until he's old enough to defend himself.

He's not too spoiled. She only holds him when she watches TV, takes a nap, sits on the porch swing, and talks on the phone. Some people have a thing for poultry, and Melissa is one of them. As for me, however, those rumors that I sometimes pick up Ping II, carry him around, and kiss his fuzzy little head, are just that, ugly rumors. I deny everything.

Novel News



All's quiet on the farm in July...lambs growing, pastures wilting in the heat, dogs panting in the shade...so I'll take a few minutes to mention two things:

First, you can now subscribe to this blog---see column to the right.

Second, my new novel, The Spanish Pearl, is out and available. It's been really fun getting unsolicited feedback from readers I don't know, which is the beauty of the Internet.

Here's a sample from L in Illinois:

"I just finished The Spanish Pearl for the SECOND TIME! Wowzers, what a fantastic book….Parts of it have stayed with me well after I've finished reading. Kate is a terrific heroine, and I love how her 21st century sassiness comes to play in 1085. I laughed out loud at many of her exploits, and teared up when she helped Luis find himself. I look forward to the sequel, so Catherine, please keep up the great work."

Words like this can keep me floating above the barn for hours.

Food for thought: In my reading life I’ve read hundreds and hundreds of books with straight protagonists and straight romances. I’ve watched hundreds and hundreds of movies with straight protagonists and straight romances. Yet here I am, still a lesbian! I’m pretty sure it works the other way as well—straight men and women will be able to read a novel about a gay woman, and still remain straight.

What’s most important is story, not sexuality. Does the story grip you? Does it make you laugh? Do you keep thinking about the characters after the book is over? I write stories to escape the despair and violence and pressures surrounding all of us in the twenty-first century. If that’s what you’re looking for too, consider giving The Spanish Pearl a try. You could lose yourself in another person’s life for a few hours without endangering your sexuality, whatever it might be.

Here's the official description of the book:

When Kate Vincent and her partner travel to Spain, Kate is accidentally transported back in time...way back in time...to 1085. What does a woman like Kate do in a world of no antibiotics, no feminism, no Diet Coke? She denies it as long as possible, then sets her mind to getting home. Tricky with her now useless twenty-first century skills.

Things don't go well. Kate is captured by a band of mercenary soldiers and becomes an unwitting pawn in the violent conflict between the Catholic kings and the Islamic Moors. In her struggle to stay alive and return to the future, Kate must flee exotic harems, filthy dungeons, and treacherous Moorish courts. But when a sword-brandishing woman with an astonishing secret sweeps into Kate's life, Kate is suddenly torn between two women, and between two centuries.

The Spanish Pearl is an epic adventure spiced with humor, lust, and danger—a story with surprising twists that will capture your imagination just as Kate's dilemma captures your heart.

For more reviews, reader comments, and links to buy the book, from this blog's right column choose the link to Catherine Friend. I tried to put the link in here, and failed miserably. Maybe next time....

We now return to you our regularly scheduled farm blog.

Our ducks Daphne and Chloe have both hatched their eggs---Daphne 14, Chloe 10...photos to be included in next post if Daphne doesn't attack the photographer. That would be me.