Fowl Play

After many valiant attempts, Thomas has accepted that he will not be permitted entry into the house. He has, instead, chosen to sleep on the arm of the wicker love seat, the same one Bruno prefers to sleep on. It didn’t strike me as a pet bed when I purchased it, but it’s not the first time I have been mistaken.

His obsession with my fingers has not subsided yet. I have been reminded more than once not to stand idly by with my hands hanging down, as he latches on to one at every opportunity. Randyman’s fingers, apparently, do not hold the same appeal. I got so tired of being vigilant about my hands, I tried to evict Thomas from the yard. Out into the big pasture we went, with the sheep. The Maremmas kept watch over everyone, as they usually do.

 I even hoped Thomas would take up with the chickens, in spite of the risks they hold for him. They were not interested in making friends with the big galoot. He followed me out into the pasture, noting various bugs.

 After I got him down there a good long way, I sped back to the gate, leaving him waddling in my wake.

 He spent hours pacing the fence trying to get to me. I finally felt sorry for him and dumped him in the pasture next to the back yard so he could at least see me. He resumed pacing THAT fence. I picked him up and carried him to the pasture gate while I let the sheep in. They all ran by except for Rosemary and Thyme. I set Thomas down, assuming he was now safe from the thundering herd. Thyme proceeded to chase him all over the corral. I never saw sheep attack before, but Thomas was having a very, very bad day. I caught him up again, tucked him under my arm and returned to the back yard while he sniveled and whined about my earlier abandonment of him. There seems there is no alternative to his being  a yard bird.

The 56 meatie chicks have arrived and are doing extremely well in the brooder. Randyman put screening over the top and on the front of the milkroom which is great, because it not only keeps the cat and birds out, but flies as well, for the most part. Other than 3 of the Red Rangers dying the first two days because of injuries during shipping, all the chicks are thriving. I am really tickled because the  CornishX chicks are usually not so likely to do well, especially early on, in my experience. Maybe this will be a good chicken year, even if it was not such a great turkey year.

Miss Buffy is setting on 10 eggs again. She went broody in the nest box again, so after marking all her eggs and taking out the ones I refused to let her have, I moved her into a soft kennel in the lambing shed where none of them can jump out, causing her to abandon the rest of the eggs. True to form, days after I moved her, my black hen went broody on me as well.

At the end of the day, I grabbed a small bucket of grain and called Sushi from the far side of the back pasture. To my surprise, she jumped the ditch and ran to me. Locking her in the small paddock earlier this year paid off. She’s smart enough to know her name and greedy enough to come for candy. It looks like we will have a bright future ahead of us. 

After I finished the outside chores, I baked, cooled and sliced my whole wheat sourdough bread for this week’s sandwiches. I love this recipe, because I can mix it the night before and let it rise all night, then just bake it the next day. This time, it 'over proofed' so I kneaded it down and let it rise a third time and it baked up perfectly, with 2 big loaves.  Still warm bread, fresh from the oven with fresh homemade butter...a great way to end a 'fowl' day.