A Fowl Predicament

Where did I ever get the idea I could keep up a blog??? I must have been thinking out of my ass which in itself is a great accomplishment but one I would have liked to avoid. Many things come into my head as I'm outside working myself to the bone and sweating like sin. I write it in my head but it never makes it here. I keep telling myself that it's OK because once winter arrives I'll be outside less. The water buckets don't need scrubbing twice daily when it's below freezing and there's ice everywhere. Of course I have to carry warm water to all the animals but that's a whole 'nother bitch session.

Before I went to California I had 25 - more or less - banty (bantam to you edimicated folks) hens running around. I'm guessing 10 of them had chicks that hatched within days of each other. There were so many of them the hens couldn't keep up. If two or three hens crossed paths the chicks would mingle together in the middle for a bit and then separate into groups following a hen to whatever destination she had in mind. It was all well and good except that each hen would leave the gathering with chicks she didn't come into it with. As long as somebody was doing the babysitting it was all I could hope for. When I came back from California, there were no chicks and only 4 or 5 banty hens left. There are plenty of roosters (the bastards. I hate roosters.) but the chickens who actually work for a living have all disappeared.

After living here for over ten years and having many chickens all this time, a family of foxes has moved in and they've eaten most of the hens and every chick and duckling that has hatched in the last two months. The roosters (bastards) having no responsibility - like protecting offspring - just run away. The hens perish with their babies. I saw a fox in the driveway the other day. I used to think they were pretty. Not so much anymore.

Yesterday while I was doing the evening chores I heard the unmistakeable sound of a freshly hatched chick peeping at the top of it's little lungs. It is amazing how loud those little lungs can be. I had the scratch feed in one hand and Tess's feed in the other (Tess is a potbelly pig) when I went in search of the tiny critter doing the peeping. I found the chick, a tiny banty about the size of my thumb, in a shed that is currently housing two goats and a setting duck. Since I haven't seen a single hen with chicks anywhere I am guessing that a lone chicken egg was laid while the duck was out doing her daily poop. I wrapped the chick up in my shirt and went about my chores. I had to pass three hen ducks on my way to Tess. The chick was peeping ever so loudly and evidently new chicks sound identical to new ducklings because all three of those ducks (who were either setting a nest or had recently lost their ducklings to the fucking fox family) attacked my ass. They were growling - yeah, I didn't know a duck could growl either - biting and flogging me with their wings. I finally made it into Tess's lot where I was momentarily safe as the ducks flailed and bit at the gate. Did I mention that chicks are very LOUD??? When I left Tess's lot I ran like the wind. Uh, right... the wind in stagnant air spaces. I'm old and have arthritis. Don't forget that part. I got away from the killer ducks and isn't that all that really matters??? Moving on...

The chick is safely in a small hamster cage in my living room with a warming light. I say 'her' because I refuse to believe I'm going to all this trouble for a fucking rooster (the bastards). She has adopted me as her mom. When I put my hand in the cage she hops on it and peeps lovingly. Heavy sigh. Life on the farm ain't never laid back.

My Bodyguard

Five or so years ago I was driving home after taking my daughter to the airport. (She was on her way to China to teach conversational English to little Chinese children. Oh boy howdy is that a post all unto itself but this is Jude's story so back to him.) My phone rang as I cruised north on I-26 feeling sorry for myself and already missing Sarah. It was a friend saying he had found a starving dog tied to a signpost and wanted to know if I could help him get the dog into a rescue facility. I said I'd give it a go and called a friend who does foster work for the Pyr rescue folks in this area. I learned that the woman who does most of the rescue work and also funds a major portion of it was having some personal problems so unless this was a purebred Great Pyranees she asked that I find someone else to take the dog. OK, no problem. I would identify the dog and we'd go from there.

Everything was going well until I stopped by my friend's house and saw that poor, starved dog. His coat, what was left of it, was matted and looked as if someone had soaked him in burnt motor oil. His skin was red and irritated. He was so thin I could put my hands around his belly. The tip of his tail, his ears and all four feet were turning blue from lack of circulation. I sat down in the grass and started to cry. Just looking at him broke my heart. He was definitely a purebred Pyranees but I knew that the woman who ran the rescue couldn't afford the vet care this dog would require. I told John I would be back the following morning to pick up the dog.

I brought the dog home and called him Jude. As in 'then you can start to make it better' Jude. Believe me, there was no place to go but up. I couldn't afford to take him to a vet either but I have a pretty good record of bringing rescues back to health. I also have my large animal vet that I can call and who will give me help and support without charging me a fortune like some small animal vets will do. Since I do most of my own vet work with the goats, I figured I would do my best to save this dog. He seemed like such a nice guy. I clipped him, treated his skin and put him in a stall so he wouldn't be sunburned. I started feeding him slowly on yogurt and fresh (straight out of the goat) warm milk. Once in a while I would give him a fresh, just laid egg. I've heard all the stories about how this diet isn't good for dogs but I'll have to differ with that report. I slowly added dog food to the mix and fed him four meals a day. That went down to three and eventually to two meals a day. He started to fatten up and his coat grew in snowy white and beautiful. Within three months he couldn't be recognized as the same dog. The day I only fed him once he looked at me as if to ask why I didn't love him anymore. By that time he was gaining weight so fast I was worried he'd become too fat. It was a far cry from what he had been only a few months before.

Jude is the neighborhood guardian. He is large and intimidating but his nature is gentle and caring even though he can be vicious when he needs to be. He chases away dogs who threaten the peace and he goes to the neighbor's house when their children are outside playing. He hides under a bush watching, prepared to jump into action should they need him. My neighbor is afraid of Jude but he says he loves knowing Jude is there because his children are safe with him around. He guards the goats and the chickens. He lets me know when someone comes up the driveway and he doesn't let them out of the vehicle until I say they can get out. When I am home alone Jude sleeps on the porch in front of the door. I am never afraid because I know that as long as I have Jude I am never alone. He is my protector and my friend. I feed him many Milk Bones every day and tell him I love him every chance I get.

Every now and again fate brings an animal to me that fits so well into my life that I sometimes wonder how I made it without them. There have been several to fit that bill and Jude is definitely one of them. He has been a blessing and I will always be grateful for his friendship and his love.

Back in NC and lovin' it... yeah, right.

I've been home for several days and haven't had time to do much more than the normal chores. After being in San Francisco this place is hard to get used to again. It took nearly two weeks for the manure stains on my feet to finally disappear and only two days for my feet to start looking like I never wash them. Do you have any idea what it feels like to scrub your feet with a Scotch Brite pad? Try it the next time you're feeling masochistic. It's a real hoot.

While I was gone a couple of hawks took up residence and picked off most of the chicks. There were over 30 running around when I left. Not a single chick survived. To add insult to injury, there are now foxes coming into the yard and killing whatever they can get their jaws into. When the house dogs started wailing like it was the end of the world this afternoon I looked out the window and saw a fox standing in the driveway. Jude (one of the Great Pyrs) came running but by the time he made his appearance the fox had leaped into Tinker's (rescue Hackney pony) stall and disappeared out the back. A quick headcount showed one of the older chicks I had raised in my living room was gone. She had broken her leg when she was just a few days old so I brought her in and kept her in a playpen until she was healed. She was a cutie too. I could hold out my hands and she would come for me to pick her up. Damn foxes. Until now I didn't have anything against them but that's most likely because they haven't been around before. I'm pretty pissed at them now. I don't imagine the outcome is going to be good.

To top it all off I found out I'm the subject of a serious rumor accusing me of telling tales that would ruin a young girl's work with her goats. I don't even know where to begin telling about it except to say it isn't true. I have always thought the world of the girls in that family and would never hurt them. Their mother is a control freak and not so nice a person. I could never see her again and it would be too soon but her daughters I have always loved. It has broken my heart to hear all the bullshit being told. I suppose I'll just sit back and let it all die down... if it does. This isn't the first time this particular person has set out to stir shit and cause trouble. I doubt it will be the last. Don't you get tired of people who have nothing more to do than sit around thinking up shitty things to do to other people? I wonder what it's like to have such a life? It must suck.

The best thing is that Sunday didn't forget me. I was afraid she would pout and be a diva for a few days but for once she didn't do that. She ran to me begging for goodies and lots of loving. I was more than happy to give it to her. There is nothing like massaging those big, beautiful ears of hers. I think it relaxes me just as much as it does her. I would like to go riding soon. It's been a while.

I think I need to do a series of posts identifying all the critters around this place. I will put that into production soon. I'm sure it will help if anybody reading this has a way to figure out who I'm talking about.

With everything going on I haven't been in a very cheery mood so it's probably best that I don't keep dragging on. I hope things settle down soon so I can talk about things that are more entertaining than dead chickens and a friend's betrayal. Until then...