Since there’s nothin’ going on around these parts (except to mention that I caught the very first episode of Roseanne yesterday, and I had forgotten that a completely different child plays DJ in the first show and then never after. Also, George Clooney was approximately 12 years old!) and I have nothing to report except that I have my appointment later today with the surgeon and I have my fingers crossed for getting this drain out (which I expect will happen, since the output has dwindled to almost nothing) and being cleared to shower and drive (though perhaps not at the same time), for you I took a buttload of pictures around Crooked Acres.
You’re welcome!
Fred picked up a turtle in the road a few weeks ago. It had been hit by a car and was badly hurt, so he opted to euthanize it. When it was dead, he put the body out at the back of the back forty. When he was cutting the back forty over the weekend, he found the empty shell. Kinda neat. It seems that I could come up with a use for the shell, but nothing’s coming to mind. Anyone?
Momma Chicken #2, and her five babies. None of them look like her, you’ll note.
Flappy McGee is a jerk for picking on the little chickens, and I told her so. She did not appreciate the name calling. JERK.
This is one of the meat chickens – ie, one of the chickens we hatched ourselves. We call this bunch “the toddlers.” They’re meant to all be eaten eventually, but Fred’s already picked out one little rooster to keep. This one appears to be an Americauna (like Frick and Flappy). Since we didn’t hatch any blue eggs (the eggs Flappy and Frick give us tend to be very thin-shelled and have very fragile yolks. I don’t know if it’s the breed, or just Frick and Flappy specifically that’s the issue), we’re guessing that McLovin’s non-Rhode Island Red parent must have been an Americauna.
I believe this is the little rooster Fred’s decided we’re going to keep. I think he’s goofy looking, which is probably why I like him so much.
Mama Chicken #1 and her two remaining babies.
The Rock Star. She’s a Black-Crested Golden Polish. I think she’s gorgeous, but I don’t know what kind of quality of life she’s got. She can’t see a thing (we’ve already trimmed her feathers back some – I’ve told Fred we need to do it more aggressively) and spends all her time alone.
McLovin. Fred’s talking about killing and eating him and keeping two roosters from the toddler batch. I don’t think I’d miss this a**hole at all. I’m tired of seeing him chase the wimminfolk around and pick on the little ones. He’s pretty, but ALL roosters are pretty, Mother Nature made it so.
The teenagers (ie, the bunch we got in March from the hatchery). The white Delaware is probably my favorite – we have two of them, and they’re both so pretty. That one above is “George” because she was very curious from the get-go. The other Delaware is Charlie. She had some sort of birth defect that resulted in her toes being all curled around. If she runs, she tends to trip over her own feet. She’s keeping up, size-wise, though, and she’s awfully pretty.
Good ol’ Frick.
These adults from the original flock stomp through the yard like a marauding gang of jacka**es, ready to put the younger birds in their place. I KNOW it’s just nature and instinct and all that, but it still TICKS ME OFF.
I was too slow with the camera, or you’d be looking at a picture of chicken sex right here. See the afterglow?
Toddlers.
We planted butterfly bushes and Rose of Sharon bushes out here, and then when Spot died, we decided this would be a pretty place to bury him. At some point (maybe next year), I’d like to make this a little more garden-y. In the meantime, the first butterfly bush has bloomed, yay!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elayne asked in my comments yesterday if the kittens were eating kibble. Yeah, at some point in the past few weeks they started eating the Royal Canin Kitten Formula I put in a small bowl for them. I’ve actually seen all of the kittens EXCEPT Zoe, who causes me great despair, eating it. In addition, River will eat some of the canned kitten food I bring in for Kara, and he’s also tried the Science Diet Kitten food I give Kara. They all drink out of the water bowls (when they’re not running THROUGH the water bowls, that is) and like I said, I’ve seen everyone but Zoe eat solid food.
Zoe makes me despair because earlier this week, well, I’m not going into details, but she was clearly constipated. I gave her little dollops of Laxatone for a few days and… I don’t know! She won’t perform for me again, but I haven’t seen any poo outside the litter box.
She hasn’t eaten solid food in front of me, and if I hold some food out to her, she sniffs it and gives me a look of “Yeah, SO?” and walks away. In addition, if I take cat beds into the room with the intention that the kittens have nice soft places to sleep (even though they much prefer to just sleep in the middle of the floor of course), she’ll pee on them. I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS UP WITH THAT. She hasn’t done it in the pyramid or kitten condo, or really anything that was already IN the room, so maybe it’s just a marking thing. I don’t know. Brat.
She’s the smallest of the four, but healthy and active and gaining weight, so I’m doing my best not to worry.
Kaylee wubs Tigger.
“I yam NOT a troublesome little runt!”
Kerfluffleness going on.
“Wha?”
I swear, I could take pictures of these little open-mouthed kittens for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.
All four, running around like the little hellions they are.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
::het::
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Previously
2007: That whole separating-laundry stuff is a line of bullshit perpetrated upon the American woman in an attempt to KEEP HER DOWN.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Styrofoam peanuts = pure evil.
2003: It’s got to be the hormones in the air, that’s all I can guess.
2002: No entry.
2001: We call them the Naysayers.
2000: No entry.