Rainbow’s end

In a younger year, I was often told of a pot of gold that waited at the rainbow’s end. But lately, I’ve now reached a year in numbers where I think perhaps the tellers must have been fibbing just a little. Nevertheless, rainbows are still as beautiful to look at as they always have been.

Just past noon a couple of days ago as a dark cloud covered the high noon sun, raindrops pitter-pattered heavily on the skylight that domes the niche where my computer is positioned. Yet beyond the east-facing window, one could see that the sun was still shining brightly. Moments later as the downpour slackened, a large brightly-coloured rainbow arched the eastern sky. It was the first rainbow that I have seen this season. What a beautiful sight!

Earlier in the morning, my son and I had taken a tour around the farm in what is known in the John Deere world as a “gator.” It is a light four-wheel drive vehicle with a dump bucket; handy for taking things you need, or might need, to wherever for whatever you’re going to be doing.

But this particular tour was, as often, just a trip to look at what was done and at what may need to be done. I enjoy these trips, as it gives me a chance to just gawk at anything and everything.

As we passed the garden area where the potatoes were recently planted, a pair of killdeer called their plaintive call as they quickly tiptoed across the freshly turned soil. Obviously they are going to nest there. As their mottled four eggs, which are placed small end down in a pebble nest on the ground, are so well camouflaged, it will be necessary to mark its position with a nearby stick so it won’t be stepped on when weeding starts. Killdeer eggs take 28 days to hatch, but their young are up and running on their own just hours after hatching.

A swirl of squawking seagulls took to the air as we passed the freshly ploughed acres where the corn will be soon planted. Beyond that, a pair of meadowlarks sang each on their own selected fence post. A horned lark twittered from a nearby fence, and a song sparrow threw back his head in song from a stake that was marking a planted row.

High overhead, a bobolink flew while singing his bubbly song, and a pair of Canada geese flew low, low over the meadow heading for our newly established pond, where I am sure their mates have already established nests and are setting on eggs well hidden in the tall-growing grasses.

In the meantime, our herd of Boer goats, which now number over 30, had left their paddock and now, nibbling grass on the hillside, have, believe it or not, so placed themselves to form a large question mark as they shifted positions. The only two that were not well placed were both younger than a week old and were playing “king of the castle” on a nearby hillock.

Back near the barn in the second fenced paddock, our family of black Berkshire hogs came trotting over to greet us. The four young white-faced babies looked up, wondering, I suppose, why my arm was not long enough to reach down and scratch their noses. Both mom and dad get this treatment, and their turn will come when their legs grow longer. Such is so here on the farm.

Take care, ’cause we care.




Barrie Hopkins