Sometime in 1966, Simon and Garfunkel released a soulful song titled “The sound of Silence”, about the inability for people to communicate.  I like that song.  There is a newer version I came across by “Disturbed”.  I may like this version even better.  What that song evokes in me more than anything else is the desire to sit in silence and listen to silence.  It has a sound! Believe it or not though, this is not about music, but about my chickens.

About a month after I moved to the homestead, on a quiet, uneventful, hazy, hot Sunday afternoon, I was on the patio, mindlessly listening to the birds and the buzzing bugs as I sunk deeper into my silence filled stupor, a state that I think can only be achieved in hot and humid semi-arid Kenya.  I was unceremoniously yanked from my busy activity of listening to silence.  My chickens were upset, angry and voicing their displeasure very loudly.  I could not figure out what was happening, so I went outside to check on them.  Was there a mongoose on the loose?  Was Mooshoo up to her terrible habit of chasing down chickens for the fun of it?  When I got outside, nothing seemed to be the matter.  But the chickens were angrily screaming their heads off as they part-ran and part-flew to their house.

Then I heard it.  One of my neighbours had invited guests to their place for a party I believe.  From my deduction, the guests had rented a minivan for the occasion, and were playing very loud music and having a whale of a time as they drove past my place on their way to my neighbour’s place.  My chickens had never heard this amount of noise.  They were in distress hence the racket that was going on outside with them running off to their house while muttering under their breath.  This was the most hilarious thing I had seen in a while.  I could not stop laughing.  Is this who we had all become?  Animals and homesteader who could not abide noise?

Last time, I had mentioned my borehole was misbehaving.  I have come to the conclusion that boreholes have a bad personality in general, and being temperamental is one of their key traits.  When the technician finally came for the borehole checkup, it turned out that what I had was a problem of over dimensioned power.  Too much power from the solar panels meant that the inverter shut off pumping to protect the pump from a power surge.  That’s what I understood from the technician and I am sticking to my story!  They disconnected one solar panel and all seems to be going well.  In fact, it is going so well that my Rottweiler (Kronk) has turned the tank overflow into his personal swimming pond. Rotties have a relationship with water that is special.

A couple of weeks ago, I was coming from a work event late at night, at around 10pm. About half a kilometre from my house, this strange creature crossed the road right Infront of my car then crossed back again.  What was strange was that this creature was about the size of a hare, but was hopping on its hind legs like a Kangaroo. This is tropical Africa, semi-arid Kenya – there are absolutely no Kangaroos here. None.  I could not figure it out but I soon forgot about it.  Then, a week ago on a Sunday morning, my youngest groundskeeper came to the kitchen to ask that I come out and give a view on something the dogs had killed the previous night.  I am sure the other groundskeepers had selected him to come to disturb my morning tea and musings, precisely because he is the youngest, but also because I have a soft spot for him. I go out, and what do I find? Kangaroo-Hare! Unfortunately, my dogs had killed it.  My groundskeepers were completely flummoxed as to what this creature might be. None of them had seen anything like this. So, I took photos and sent to my source of all homesteading truth, aka the local chapter of Kenya Horticultural Society.  Lo and behold! It turns out this is a Spring Hare.  A creature that also baffles scientists due to its nature (part Kangaroo part Hare). The fact that they are very rare and nocturnal meant my groundskeepers had never seen it even though it was native to semi-arid Kenya. I urge you to google this creature and take a good look at it.  You will understand my confusion about it.

Every Monday and Friday morning, I pick fresh cow milk from my neighbour.  To call her a neighbour is stretching the meaning of the word as it’s a good 15-minute drive to her place.  Last Monday, on my way back, a hyena crossed the road right in front of my car.  This was a big guy, easily the size of a calf. Now I have to wonder – why do animals cross the road in front of my car?  Why not after I have passed?  Why not way before I arrive? Why does it have to be right at the moment when I can see them? Anyway, the hyena was not what bothered me.  Here’s what bothered me.  It was 7.15am and the sun was out.  I have always believed hyenas to be nocturnal.  This is my morning walking route when I take my Mooshoo for a walk.  Had we been out walking and not driving for milk runs, would the hyena have attacked?  Does he belong to the family of hyena’s that was watching me the day we put out the bushfires at 3am?  Would he have attacked me since I consider myself his buddy?  Does he know I consider him my buddy?  Oh dear!

This morning, as I went for my milk run, the hyenas and dogs were having a shouting match at the gate.  This time I guess the dogs won.  By the time I got to the gate the hyenas had left.

What’s the strangest thing that’s happened on your homestead lately?