Hoisted by His Own Petard.

Sunday brings another round of "to do's" around the house and some of that involved puttering around the chicken run doing this or that.

Today, it was time to go into the run and change out the fly trap. Also, a good time to remove the swing that had been hanging in the run for the chickens. The 'swing' was a two foot length of 2x4 suspended by nylon cord. Strong though that it had been, after hanging for a few years the cords had given up the ghost and the swing had come down.

I could've gone through the trouble of rehanging the swing, but at no point have any of the chickens taken any enjoyment out of it! So, time to remove it.

Warm day. Shorts on.  Scattered some meal worms to keep the flock bust and out from under foot while I set about these minor tasks. I reached up and took down the full, nasty, and somewhat smelly fly trap. Coq Au took notice. I hung the new fly trap and Coq Au became agitated. I removed the remnants of the fallen swing and Coq Au strode over. I removed their near empty water font to fill it and Coq Au hit his limit.

Upon returning with the freshly filled water font he had about enough of my intrusions into his day and he squared off to strike. My bare legs be damned, he was going to go for blood.

Oddly enough, this encounter did not require a sound kick from my flip flopped feet, nor did it result in bloodied legs on my part. The coincidence of our relative positions to each other found me holding the heavy water font fairly high and, though it was unintentional, hovering just above his head.

He leapt upward into his attack. His head made direct and profound contact with the unyielding underside of the water font. He leap was cut short and he was momentarily stunned. Thwarted by the 'rock' that was the power of his own energy meeting the proverbial 'hard place' of the font.

He staggered off, more embarrassed with himself than injured.

Font in place, doings in the run complete. A few more mealworms. And thus off I was to complete the next round of chores elsewhere ... Whistling a merry tune as I went.

Bratty Lil Pig

For those of you contemplating getting a pet pig be forewarned! They are smart. Smarter than dogs. Also, they are just smart enough to act like bratty toddlers at times, and they can be moody if they don't get their way!

I love our pet pig Ruby. Like pigs, she is smart, loveable (to us!), she has learned to turn around on command, blow kisses when she's feeling affectionate, and at times to be bratty!

She goes in a large little box filled with pine shavings rather than ... Well ... Cat litter. But lately she's been having an issue where when she goes in, her back end is still facing out and the pee runs over the floor! We don't 'yell' at her, but she can hear the disappointment in our voices and tries to do better. When herself and I hear her going into her box, we jump up, and tell her she's a good girl if she's facing the right way, or tell her to 'turn around' when she's not. If she does well, there are more praises and a carrot for her! Just about have her corrected and there's not been any pee on the floor.

Until yesterday. I had just cleaned the kitchen and she was wanting to come in ... Likely to beg for a treat. I gently backed out of the doorway, singing her praises, and closed the French door. Through the glass, she glared at me briefly and then made up her mind that NOW was a good time to go into the litter box. Hearing her go in, I peeked in and told her to 'turn around'. She would not. Then she let out a hot stream onto the floor while I was watching her.

Okay, I thought maybe t was innocent, and with a disappointed tone I set to cleaning the mess. That miserable little bitch turned around in her box and blew a kiss at me! I knew se wasn't feeling very affectionate at that moment, so this pig literally blew a 'sarcastic kiss' at me!

Fine.

No carrot for you, and you're STILL not coming into the kitchen!

As she lays here in a sunbeam she looks almost innocent!

Trying to do a Hard Job.

Flock was out enjoying the summer sun yesterday.

But after just a couple of hours, I peered out to see Coq Au by the neighbors bush. He was chattering away and I figured I needed to go chase the flock out from under the bush. I put together some treats and put them in the run to coax them back in. Inside the coop was a broody hen, so that's one down!

Rake in hand I marched over to the bush to flush out the girls.

"Coq Au, what the hell is going on over here?"

"You tell me! I've been trying to get them out from under there for a good fifteen minutes!"

Okay, clearly he, himself was not under the bush and gently scolding the girls within.

I chased out three girls and herded them and Coq Au back to the run. With the girls in the coop, that's five down, I closed the run's door to keep them contained while I went off on the hunt.

Naturally, three of them were squeezed deep into that old planting box on the front porch as pretty as you please having their early afternoon dirt bath, and the last girl was milling about nearby.

Coq Au, isolated from them behind the run's fencing was LOSING HIS MIND that he couldn't get out to come and collect them himself.

I physically pulled the girls out of the dirt, since they were utterly disinclined to arise by themselves from their repose, and set them on course for home. As we got closer, I jumped ahead and allowed Coq Au out. He immediately had a lot to say to them. They paid him about the same amount of attention as they did to me as they dashed in to get some treats of their own.

Bless his heart, he was trying to do his job, I was trying to do mine, and for once we were on the 'same side' of things (more or less).

Broccoli or Blueberries

Sometimes my flock acts like they're four years old.

(in chicken years).

Sometimes they act like they're four years old.

(in people years).

Yesterday the weather was absolutely gorgeous. I let the flock out into the yard and tossed some nice broccoli heads into a shady spot for them to enjoy. Upon spying me toss something over, the entire flock hurried en masse to the spot to check out the fine treats I had given out. Traveling in great haste, they were practically stumbling over one another. Then they skidded to a stop. They looked at the broccoli, then they looked at me. Then they looked at the broccoli again, and then at me.

"What the heck is this?" Myrtle cried.

"Nope, I can't like it." Stated Lily with an unusually sardonic tone.

"Fine," I said. "Go forage your own treats!" And left them to do just that.

I puttered around the house while they visited their favorite haunts around the property. As per usual, I would step out, or peer out a window to make sure they weren't getting into trouble.

Eventually, they fund some nice blueberries. Trouble was, they were attached to my neighbor's blueberry bush!

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOULRE DOING???"

With a flash, I was outside, rake in hand, and herding the flock back into their run. Two hours of outside time. Would've liked them to have been out longer, but now I have to explain to my neighbors what happened to their blueberries.

No matter, they're patient people and often come to my yard to collect mulberries. I think they'll be okay.

To his credit, what caused me to check outside at that particular moment was Coq Au's crowing. I think he was trying to alert me. He has a lot of sway and control over the doings of the flock, but once blueberries are involved, he needs upper management to sort it out.

Patriotic Roosters.

In a fit of unbridled pride on this, the 242nd birthday of the United States, I am posting photos of rooster breeds bred here in America!

Here is a fine Rhode Island Red

This pleasant chap is a Leghorn White.

This magnificent fellow is an Iowa Blue.

Okay, these photos are NOT of my chickens. My dark minions are all black. Most of them are Australorps. Although mine are bred here in the U.S. of A., the breed was developed in Australia. Two of my hens, Lily and Petunia, are Jersey Giants. Born, bred, and the breed developed in NJ.

Happy Fourth Of July!

The Devastation of the Earth.

They look almost innocent this fine Sunday morning as they peck around their morning treats of some leftover pasta, tuna, banana, and other sundry tid-bits. Will be hot again today so I'll be trying to get them out of their run after I collect myself.

Oh, it was so hot yesterday that I just had to let them out. They did not search around the yard. They did not go over to the neighbor's bush. No, they stayed near the shady, cooler areas of the front porch.

Where they dug themselves into a pile of leaves.

And dug into an unused planting area.

And dug themselves into a semi-used planting box.

But mostly dug into the shadiest spots in the knotweed.

Herself and I haven't done any gardening/landscaping this year, so we don't mind a bit, so long as they're safe and keeping cool!