Adventures in soldering

 I've recently started trying to learn to use the soldering iron Mom found in the barn. I've used it four times now and I haven't burned myself or set anything on fire so I guess it's going pretty well. For some reason when ever I start to smell the soldering iron heating up I think to myself, 'Oh crap, I'll going to burn something.' It probably doesn't help that it wants to sit with the tip touching the paper; so I have to do a lot of finagling to keep it pointing up while the iron warms. I'm going to try using a rock or a brick.
 
 This is a picture of the kitchen table after I commandeered it for soldering practice. As you can see I put newspaper in the vise (also from the barn) so it wouldn't damage the wires.

There are a few things I have to remember when doing this:
1) Solder wants to sticks to itself and to a much lesser existent the soldering iron.
2) It moves fast. Especially when it's moving to some place you don't want it to.
3) It will always try to go where you don't want it to. Twice I've had it flow into the little wire loop I've got on this project. And I really don't want that loop filled with solder.
4) Once it gets into the spot you don't want it to it's almost imposable to get it out.
5) If you try to use the iron to clean up the spot you soldered; the solder will almost always turn liquid and ooze away from where you want it to. 
6) You have to get solder on BOTH sides of the wire you're connecting. Other wise when you try to clean the spot up with a file, like the book on soldering I checked out from the library suggested, the solder will shot off towards your eye.
7) Wear safety goggles.

  Just a few things I've learned while trying to get the hang of this fairly dangerous craft.

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The Plumeria

  Earlier this month in the Saturday edition of the Chronicle there was a picture of a Plumeria flower in the gardening section. Mom says she saw it and thought to herself, 'That looks familiar. We have a Plumeria. Where is it?' But all I know about it is that all of a sudden she looked up and said. 'Oh God! We forgot to take out the Plumeria!' 
  We had placed it in the garage because it was too tall to put in the green house with all the other plants that need protection from the cold. When we found it the poor thing was growing two small shoots despite being left without water or sunlight.
  Now the plant has leafed out and is about to bloom. Got to love a Plumeria. It's a real trooper, unlike all the other plants that wimp out on us. I'm looking at you Gardenias. That bit was Mom.  'Wintergreen, catnip.' That was me. 

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Amy in the nest

 Amy, one of our Ameraucana hens, has gone broody. After a few days of being screeched at when I picked eggs, Mom and I decided to mark some eggs to put under her. The eggs should hatch around the 10th of July. We write the date and swirly lines on them in pencil, because writing on them in pen or marker can supposedly poison the chick by soaking through air holes the shell. She's got eight now, but the other hens keep laying in her nest, often with her in it, once when I picked eggs there were ten eggs under her.
  We tried putting Amy in one of the wire cages in an open section of the barn, because we were afraid that one of the hens would break the eggs while trying to lay in Amy's nest. But she didn't like it. She got really anxious and wondered around the cage clucking. So we moved her back in the hen house.
  Hopefully, she'll like the broody pen better once we move Mohawk and her clutch out. It's less open which I think was the problem with the cage. We put cardboard and pieces of a bag from feed around the nest in a corner of the cage to try and make it feel more private, but we didn't want to enclose it too much because then she might overheat and I guess it wasn't enough for her.
 
  

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Abraham: The good, the bad, the rooster

This is our Ameraucana rooster, Abraham. We usually call him Abe. As you can see he's a very good looking rooster. We got him from my uncle's daughter. She had him and Silkie rooster and they weren't getting along. Since a hawk had just killed our buff rooster she offered to give us Abe. I wish I'd have taken a picture of him when we first got him; you almost wouldn't believe he was the same rooster. He was a lanky teenager, and smaller than the hens. Now he's a sassy bruiser, taller and wider than the lot of them.
 But calling him sassy is being kind. He's a jerk. Every time we go out to check the chickens he sidles up to at a lest one of us giving that person the evil eye. Three times actually flew up at one of us (usually me) trying to get that person with his spurs. When he does that I grab him and dunk him in the rain barrel. Unfortunately, thanks to this drought the level in the barrel is too low to do this any more. I guess we'll just have to use the hose on him. Which is what we do when sidles up and pecks us. Just the other day he pecked Mom's hand while she was putting ice in their waterer, so we soaked him with the hose. Even wet he's still large. The bum. Every time we leave the hen house he crows, even when soaked to the skin. As if to say, "And don't came back." I'd like to think he'd treat any intruders the same way.


~Sorry I forgot to worn everyone, but this is Thursday's post.

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