We've been working on a new pond, named after Lake Pend O'Reille in Northern Idaho where Popsey's sister lives. Pond Hooray is not quite as big as Lake Pend O'Reille, and you can't sink a submarine very deep in this pond. It's only about ankle deep. Too bad, but we don't really need a submarine I suppose.
The pond is in a low point below the spring where water gathers in the winter and flows away off the edge of the property. By expanding the area, the water will hang around, and we can use it to water nearby plants. We filled it with water from the spring and the well. It won't stay full on its own this time of year.
Popsey worked like a madman, with my help, for several intense mornings and evenings, planting the banks with the hardiest of aromatic herbs that have done well elsewhere. Most of them were grown here from cuttings.
I tried herding the birds down to Pond Hooray for their first visit, but they flat-out refused to leave the yard...they're barn sour. I picked up the duck and walked out the gate, assuming that the goose would follow. He was not pleased with that idea at all. He prefers to be right next to the duck, and any such forced separation is met with a cacophony of angry honking and head dipping.
Popsey solved the problem by grabbing them both up at once, a skill I have not yet acquired. They don't mind it, because they're together and that is all that matters in the world.
The three of them strolled down the hill in a tangle of beaks, necks and feathers.
In case you're wondering, his bump is very soft and squishy. It reminds me of those squeezy stress balls they sell on the counter at office supply stores. No, he won't like it if you squeeze it.
Mooka the steadfast sentry watches over her minions.
Honk honk hooray!