Animals and Elvis
I'm listening to an Elvis song on our local classic country station (remember--I only listen for the local news). It's just a terrible, 1950s sap-fest of a song: "We-el I love you, I need you, with alllllll myyyyyyy heeeeaaaaarrrrrt!" with all those little 'hiccups' and the "aaaaahhhhhh aaaaaahhhhhh" backup singers. What the hell happened to Elvis anyway? He used to rock. I would never ever call him the King, but he was there toward the very beginning, and he had a good rockabilly sound. And then? Crap movies and Vegas. And people worship this guy!
Last night I had to drink half a glass of water when I wasn't thirsty just to save one of those orange ladybugs from drowning in it. It didn't drown. I chastised it for a second, telling it to be more careful, and it hung out on my nightstand all night. This morning it was still there. It's a "blustery" day around here, according to the weather people, so if I was that bug, I'd curl up under my copious bedding accoutrements.
How else have I been a hero to animals lately?
Well, we moved the chickens out to the barn the other day. They are not secure from predators, but have been just fine the last week and have ventured outside to walk in the sun and hunt worms. They're happy. And I like to think that, if a predator did come in, they would have plenty of places to scatter as they are not confined in a coop. I think their gravest threat is either area cats or that hawk who lives in the surrounding woods. But they stay pretty close to the barn.
Anyhoo, I went into the barn the day I returned from NY. The chickens ran away from me (chickens!) and I noticed that one was dragging her leg behind her. "Oh NO!" I thought. Predators! On closer inspection, I see that it's nothing more than a small string, tightly wrapped around her foot and TIED ("How the hell did you tie and KNOT this thing?!") around one of her toes. Where's the other end of the string?
In another chicken's stomach.
That's right. Two chickens were connected by a thread, by the foot and craw.
So I caught Ms. Foot (one of the hobbits--Pippin, no doubt) and found it was fairly easy to catch Ms. Stomach (Gimli? Mistaking the string for salted pork?) because she was tethered. So now I have a scared bird in each hand, traipsing through the barn looking for the kitchen knife I use to cut the string on my hay bales.
I place Ms. Stomach on the ledge of the manure wagon. She tried to jump, of course, which wouldn't have felt too good for either bird. I scolded her...and it worked! Something told this chicken to just sit there. Did she grasp the seriousness of the situation? Yes, apparently.
Well, my kitchen knife is plenty sharp to cut baling string, but can't handle a cotton string 1/2 the diameter because I was unable to give it a sharp jerk like I do with the baling string because I'm trying to cut a string that has a fleshy chicken foot attached.
I finally had to give up (!?), pick up both terrified-but-remarkably-well-behaved chickens and go to the other side of the barn to fish out the scissors that must be in Little Cousin's horse stuff because I had been told that, when I was gone, one of the chickens had swallowed a string (same bird?!) and Auntie had to cut it off close to her beak because she couldn't pull it out. So there's something over there to cut with.
I found the bandage scissors--not ideal, but sharper--and managed to free the first bird. Took her back to her mates and easily caught Ms. Stomach. By that time, Auntie and Little Cousin showed up and were pretty surprised to see yet another Barred Rock with a length of string protruding from her mouth.
"Well, chickens are pretty dumb. But they're really cute."
I held the birdy, Auntie cut the string when it wouldn't come out (chicken digestive systems are strictly no-exit-from-the-entrance affairs), and chicken seemed a little stunned. She just sat there a bit, "ggggrrrrrrrr" ing softly.
I don't know if she passed the string or if it's still in there, slowly wrapping up her guts. But all five Barred Rocks are doing fine, so by process of elimination....
This weekend we're going to turn the small windbreak shed we made for the sheep into a coop. Then the chickens will have a spacious, much more predator-proof home and can poop in the pasture instead of all over the barn. It's good to have chickens again!
This brings my tally to 2 boys, 1 horse, 2 cows, 6 sheep (and they appear very pregnant and have a definite waddle), and 9 chickens.
Last night I had to drink half a glass of water when I wasn't thirsty just to save one of those orange ladybugs from drowning in it. It didn't drown. I chastised it for a second, telling it to be more careful, and it hung out on my nightstand all night. This morning it was still there. It's a "blustery" day around here, according to the weather people, so if I was that bug, I'd curl up under my copious bedding accoutrements.
How else have I been a hero to animals lately?
Well, we moved the chickens out to the barn the other day. They are not secure from predators, but have been just fine the last week and have ventured outside to walk in the sun and hunt worms. They're happy. And I like to think that, if a predator did come in, they would have plenty of places to scatter as they are not confined in a coop. I think their gravest threat is either area cats or that hawk who lives in the surrounding woods. But they stay pretty close to the barn.
Anyhoo, I went into the barn the day I returned from NY. The chickens ran away from me (chickens!) and I noticed that one was dragging her leg behind her. "Oh NO!" I thought. Predators! On closer inspection, I see that it's nothing more than a small string, tightly wrapped around her foot and TIED ("How the hell did you tie and KNOT this thing?!") around one of her toes. Where's the other end of the string?
In another chicken's stomach.
That's right. Two chickens were connected by a thread, by the foot and craw.
So I caught Ms. Foot (one of the hobbits--Pippin, no doubt) and found it was fairly easy to catch Ms. Stomach (Gimli? Mistaking the string for salted pork?) because she was tethered. So now I have a scared bird in each hand, traipsing through the barn looking for the kitchen knife I use to cut the string on my hay bales.
I place Ms. Stomach on the ledge of the manure wagon. She tried to jump, of course, which wouldn't have felt too good for either bird. I scolded her...and it worked! Something told this chicken to just sit there. Did she grasp the seriousness of the situation? Yes, apparently.
Well, my kitchen knife is plenty sharp to cut baling string, but can't handle a cotton string 1/2 the diameter because I was unable to give it a sharp jerk like I do with the baling string because I'm trying to cut a string that has a fleshy chicken foot attached.
I finally had to give up (!?), pick up both terrified-but-remarkably-well-behaved chickens and go to the other side of the barn to fish out the scissors that must be in Little Cousin's horse stuff because I had been told that, when I was gone, one of the chickens had swallowed a string (same bird?!) and Auntie had to cut it off close to her beak because she couldn't pull it out. So there's something over there to cut with.
I found the bandage scissors--not ideal, but sharper--and managed to free the first bird. Took her back to her mates and easily caught Ms. Stomach. By that time, Auntie and Little Cousin showed up and were pretty surprised to see yet another Barred Rock with a length of string protruding from her mouth.
"Well, chickens are pretty dumb. But they're really cute."
I held the birdy, Auntie cut the string when it wouldn't come out (chicken digestive systems are strictly no-exit-from-the-entrance affairs), and chicken seemed a little stunned. She just sat there a bit, "ggggrrrrrrrr" ing softly.
I don't know if she passed the string or if it's still in there, slowly wrapping up her guts. But all five Barred Rocks are doing fine, so by process of elimination....
This weekend we're going to turn the small windbreak shed we made for the sheep into a coop. Then the chickens will have a spacious, much more predator-proof home and can poop in the pasture instead of all over the barn. It's good to have chickens again!
This brings my tally to 2 boys, 1 horse, 2 cows, 6 sheep (and they appear very pregnant and have a definite waddle), and 9 chickens.
posted by lulu | 6:41 AM
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