Guarda chuva
The Portuguese word for umbrella is guarda chuva. One wonders, could Rihanna sing a translated version of Umbrella and would it still be a hit? The Translator says no, the refrain would be nonsensical (guarda chuva uva uva uva essentially translates as umbrella grape grape grape).
However, The Translator cheerfully notes that UB40’s Rat In the Kitchen translates perfectly, without missing a beat: Ha um rato na cozinha e eu vou conseguir! Also the Eurythmics’ Walking On Broken Glass translates pretty well too: andando em andando em andando em vidro quebrado.
It’s been raining on and off for a couple of days. In the last two days we lost four more chicks. I have no idea how I just know which flocks are now smaller - the two youngest batches of chicks. The littlest ones.
The rain is awful, drenching the flock. We see them all over the property seeking shelter in groups of four and five. Driveway Mama aka Stella had her brood under an overhanging rock at the top of a wall. When they saw me the little ones automatically tried to run to me because I am a provider of food. Mama urges them to hang back and wait til I step away before pecking at the food. She doesn’t want to get too close just yet, even if they are glad to see me.
As soon as the rain stops the whole flock gathers in the front courtyard. Not all but the vast majority. Normally Little Mama with her surviving eight (of ten) keeps her distance from Big Mama with her bigger chicks (eleven of twelve have survived); Big Mama is pretty good about chasing off anyone trying to compete with her chicks for a free meal. Today the rain changed the politics, and Big Mama and Little Mama were hanging out with all their chicks pretty close together. The roosters stand in bedraggled tableau, drying their wings. They all eyeball us as we eyeball them.
Let us in, they seemed to be saying.
We’re getting your coop ready, we promise. A winter indoors at night, the babies safe from the roosters who are the greatest threat to their lives though I suspect a rat is attacking Stella’s brood.
Then roosters crow a lot in the rain. They alternate between ducking into the brush cover during the rain, and airing out their wings and fluffing out their ruffs during the lulls in the rain. I use the opportunity to photograph and profile each member of the flock.
You guys let me know if the Chicken Thief comes back, I tell them and they agree.
The work progresses. We planted calla lilies and trumpet flower bushes and a walnut tree that looks a little like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. Daily the beans climb up their poles. With all the rain we are doing indoor work - scraping and sanding doors and windows.
Today I learned that the town of Mafra has a bread festival every July and I already have it in the calendar. A bread festival! What a civilized people the Portuguese are, I tell the h, and he agrees, cheeks bulging with the Mafra walnut bread we bought yesterday.