I have shifted from hot rage (Friday, post-carnage) to cold revenge. If that sounds sinister, maybe the fox is reading this and is now shaking in his mangy fur and oh yes, I do mean you. Watch your back, buddy, or your hide may end up as a little throw rug. Mwahahaaaaa.
The hen who I expected to die the first night has surprised me by slowly recuperating, eating and even laying an egg. She's being kept separate from the others for now, in case her bare skin is too much for the others' curiosity and they decide to start pecking. They can be nasty to each other. The other four seem normal and were hopeful about going outside the next day. There's a reason their heads are so small; their brains don't retain anything.
Today is Victoria Day, and in honor of the queen I plan to mow my lawn. Not sure how that ties in, but I'm sure I can find a way. I'll have to wrestle with the tractor to hook up the mower for the first time this year and choose my mowing areas to avoid any remaining soft ground (mired tractors are just no fun. No fun at all. Or so I've heard), but the grass is getting long and thick out there.
No comments:
Post a Comment