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.
No comments:
Post a Comment