Where did June run off to?

There were meant to be more blog posts. More regular updates on life here at the ranch without Val nearby to ask for help. More "you won't believe what happened today" stories to share with everyone.

Instead, the ranch kept us busy.

Thankfully, we had an extra pair of helping hands in our friend Jammie. She eagerly and lovingly took on the role of tending to all the chickens and kittens. Ironically, that dedication became very useful today.

I woke up late this morning—6:30 instead of my usual 6:00—and as I rounded the bend to grab Ruby and Frisky's five-gallon buckets for their alfalfa cubes, I spotted a faintly frazzled Jammie standing at the Kitten Clubhouse.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Ehhh... two of the kittens got out somehow," Jammie replied.

"Rascals. Which ones?"

"Bandita and Sophia."

Thankfully, they were two of our sweetest kittens—and the two Jammie had connected with the most, earning the occasional sly pet over the past few weeks.

Well, Frisky and Ruby, breakfast is going to have to wait.

Frisky (left) and Ruby (right) patiently waiting.

I remembered we still had an open can of salmon left over from a previous day's animal adversity. I suggested we place it inside Joshua's feline foyer—the enclosed entryway he built onto the cat house. The plan was simple: leave the door open, let the kittens wander in for a snack, and then close them safely inside.

Easy peasy.

Of course, kittens always make things interesting—especially feral kittens still learning to trust humans. And the chickens weren't helping either. Apparently canned salmon is a hot commodity among all ranch residents.

I headed back to feeding the horses, then the dogs, then the ducks. As I approached the Home Team flock, I suddenly heard supposedly sleeping parrots squawking at top volume.

"Everything okay?" I called into the ether as I hurried toward the commotion.

Then I spotted little Bandita inside the feline foyer.

A moment later, Jammie emerged from the back door with paper towels wrapped around her hands.

"Yeah—I caught Bandita!" she announced.

"I saw! Are you okay?"

"Just a few scratches. I put hydrogen peroxide on them."

We reunited Bandita with Mama Apricot and the rest of the family and took a moment to let the excitement settle.

Jammie felt bad. She'd spent so much time helping these kittens learn that humans could be trusted, only to end her stay by wrestling one into submission.

I encouraged her to look at it differently.

Because she had spent so much time earning Bandita's trust, she was able to get close enough to bring her home safely.

Only one more kitten to go.

The middle part of the day passed surprisingly smoothly.

After Jammie headed off for her regular Sunday Funday, Joshua took the Biggie Goats out to graze. I cleaned and refreshed the cricket containers, fed and watered all its tiny residents, and Joshua helped me move a kiddie pool over for our newest ducklings to enjoy instead of our lanai pond.

Oh yes—we now have nine beautiful ducklings.

A handful of wriggling curious ducklings that wandered a little too far from Mama Babette

I'll save that story for another day.

I also cleaned and tallied sixteen duck eggs, and at some point Joshua whipped up a delicious fancy hamburger mac and cheese topped with my favorite homemade ginger, beet, and red cabbage sauerkraut.

After a nice little lanai siesta, I figured it was time to tackle some of the horse manure accumulating in the front yard.

I had the wheelbarrow about two-thirds full when something along the fence line caught my eye.

At first I thought I was seeing shadows.

Then I walked closer.

A wild pig was slowly making his way toward Mama Mango.

Mama Mango is where we bury many of our beloved animals.

As I watched him struggle forward, it almost felt as though he was asking for help.

The closer I got, the clearer the situation became. The pack of wild dogs that has been harassing our neighborhood had gotten hold of him. Both ears were gone. His body was covered in wounds. I honestly don't know how his legs were still carrying him.

Eventually he laid down near the gate.

"Joshua! Ka-kah!" I called out. "Bring your tool!"

As Joshua made his way over, I quietly spoke to the pig from across the fence.

Don't worry, buddy. We're going to help you.

I felt nothing but sadness and compassion for him.

Knowing what needed to happen never makes it easy.

I led Ruby and Frisky out to pasture, knowing the noise would startle them. We brought the dogs inside the house. Once everyone was safely out of the way, I gave Joshua the all-clear.

The sound echoed across the property.

Ruby bolted. Frisky followed. The dogs barked from inside the house, and the goats scattered down their alleyway.

"It's okay, Ruby. It's okay, Frisky. It's okay, puppers and goaties," I called out as I watched everyone react.

Joshua and I gathered some rope and moved the pig out to pasture. Afterward, I called the horses back in and spent a while leaning into horse hugs and quiet pets.

Sometimes comfort goes both ways.

Eventually everyone's breathing slowed—including mine.

I promised Ruby and Frisky some extra hay for dinner and Joshua headed off to feed ducks and dogs while I returned to my evening chores.

And that's when I noticed Mr. Matiz standing all alone.

"What a day," I laughed as I pointed out four loose hens wandering the property.

Yes—the very same hens that escaped shortly after Val left.

Thankfully, this time we managed to coax the girls back into their house in about thirty minutes and only one partially cleared tomato patch. Much better than the three-day chicken roundup we experienced earlier this month.

"Okay, NOW I'm going to feed you, Miss Ruby and Mr. Frisky," I told myself as I rounded yet another corner of the property.

Only to discover Sophia.

There she was, finally enjoying the canned salmon Jammie and I had left out hours earlier.

As luck would have it, several of our sister chickens were also eyeing the salmon from outside the foyer and had effectively boxed Sophia in.

I quietly closed the door.

"Success!" I gleefully gushed to Joshua.

What a day.

Escaped kittens. A suffering wild pig in need of mercy. Runaway hens. New duckling pool. Crickets. Horses. Goats. Ducks. Chickens. Salmon-loving everything.

A full day of animal absurdities.

It seems ʻĀina Iki can feel the shift. By Tuesday, Jammie will be beginning her new adventures on the Kona side, and Joshua and I will return to living on the satellite side of the property with Val finally home again among all of her wonderful animals.

Maybe that's why June disappeared so quickly.

Or maybe ranch life simply has its own calendar.