late bloomer

Stories, musings, and pictures… a little bit late.


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2 Mysteries Solved

Mystery #1:  What kind of chicken is Bernice anyway?

Answer: Rhode Island Red. Thanks, Aunt Paula for sharing that knowledge.

Mystery #2:  What kind of person is that dog-walkin’ lady anyway?

Answer: I’ll let you decide for yourself…

Last Thursday evening I was out for a jog and crossed paths with that lady and her dog again. As I was approaching them my mind started to race with this questions: Do I say something? Do I smile? Do I even look over there?

I decided to keep my eyes straight forward.

The dog, once again, was pulling on the leash trying to get over to me. He wasn’t going to fool me twice so I just kept going. Dog continued to pull and his lady said loudly, for my benefit,  “Now stop it,  she’ll call animal control.”

I ran a few more steps processing what she had just said then turned my head in their direction and shouted: I WAS BIT!

and I. WAS. LIVID.

After giving her the benefit of the doubt that she was too upset or embarrased to say anything at the time of the attack…and then to hear that…grr.

Obviously people think I am easily intimidated. I have done some brainstorming about how to change this perception, and this is what I have come up with.

What do you think? Nice, right?


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The Name Game

Bernice Bernice Bernice
Banana Fanna Fernice
Fi Fy Fo

Hold on. Bernice is a tricky name to put in this song.

Apparently there are very specific rules to the name game which can be found here.

Let’s try again.

Bernice Bernice Ber-nice
Banana Fana Fo-nice
Me My Mo-nice
Bernice!

Woo! Nailed it.

Without further ado I introduce you to:

Image

Bernice!
(She’s the one in the foreground.)

Thanks to Meghan for the name suggestion. I think it suits her well!


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Picking Up Chicks

Well, chick. I picked up a single hen last night to be Kathy’s friend. Single as in not plural. Not single as in, she enjoys long walks in the dirt and her favorite food is corn…

I have heard that when a new hen is introduced to an exisiting flock it should be done at night. Apparently they will wake up the next morning and be totally fine with the major change that occurred.

Evidently, 7:30 isn’t night enough.

As the new bird walked slowly out of the pet carrier, Kathy widened her stance and puffed up her chest. It was like a move I’ve seen in westerns before the gunslingers sling their guns. If only she had been wearing spurs.

All of the sudden new bird and Kathy are circling in mid air with their talons out and wings spread. Surprisingly, I can now see how Cock Fighting has appeal. Although I am not a fan of this kind of confrontation, it certainly was thrilling.

Look at Kathy’s stance – ready for a fight. New bird had some quick moves though. Too bad I dropped the camera.


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What Had Happened Was

It was Saturday morning and it finally wasn’t raining after we finally got rain. I went to shed #1, fueled up the mower, inflated the chronically flat tire and began mowing.

I mowed the middle yard and started to make my first pass on the far side of the garden. I turned right to make the loop near the coop with my eyes scanning for Kathy and Eleanore to see if they were out and about yet. I spotted Kathy pretty quickly and started to say “Good Morning” to her. The phrase didn’t make it out whole.  My right foot pushed the brake and my right hand covered my mouth. A noise came out.

After I turned the mower off I walked over to the coop with a lump in my throat. I let myself in and went out into the pen. Kathy lingered for a little bit – not bothered by my presence. I bent down to pick up Eleanore’s body, but retracted. I couldn’t touch her. She wasn’t there anyway. I picked the body up with a shovel and carried her out to the woods.

Kathy is doing ok. She is still up for adoption. However, depending on how much time passes, I will probably try to find her some feathered friends. Flocks don’t come in ones.