Show Offs

It's like being at a high school freshman dance (the way I remember them from the old days)...boys on one side of the room, girls on the other.  The turkey hens are gathering together to parade in front of the toms...not too close, just giving a preview, as it were, and gabbling amongst themselves as if there weren't a boy in sight.  It won't be too long now before the toms will start fighting, showing off for the girls and proving their prowess, and I have a ringside seat for the show. 

I returned some of Joel's vegetables yesterday in the form of a scaccia, like a big calzone filled with onions, sweet and bell peppers, and rosemary.  It was the least I could do.  The chickens are in seventh heaven when I cook with veggies...they get all the trimmings.  If my garbage disposal had to depend on me to feed it, it would starve to death...almost everything goes to the hens. 

The Beastie Boys (coyotes) made a kill about one this morning...close enough that it woke Bess and me.  The sounds paint a picture as clear as if we were watching the drama, ending with silence as they feed.  Forgive me, as all I could think was, "Eat your fill, boys, and leave my chickens alone!"  I was glad I'd put a quilt back on the bed, and Bess and I snuggled down and went back to sleep.  It's six o'clock now, and just barely light.  This year will be coming to a close sooner than we think.

Food For All

It's getting ridiculous.  I really have to watch where I put my feet in the barn these days lest I step on a mouse or kick a squirrel.  Cheeky and friends are waiting for me when I walk in the door.  Mice come running from all four corners.  Elf, a young squirrel whose ears are bent at the tips, almost sits on my foot while I milk.  It used to be that these little furry things would at least duck for cover when I'd stand up and move about.  Not anymore.  I caught them in the food dish by surprise the other day...yesterday I was scooping poop in the big room, banging around with shovel and bucket, and some of the youngsters came in, gave me a glance, and jumped right into the bowl.  I have to keep rearranging things, covering buckets, etc., so that there is still enough feed left for the goats! 

There was a big hullabaloo under the oak.  It appears that an interloper wanted to join the toms' gang, but didn't meet the requirements.  He didn't heed the initial warning, so all five went on the attack.  In addition to raking with claws, one tom took the beak of the other and wouldn't let go until the loser cried Uncle.  Not satisfied to oust the newcomer from the circle, the gang ran him all the way down to the woods, strutting back to their self-proclaimed turf.  It looks like they are the only ones to join the chickens and the little wild birds for meals.

The brush has all gone brown and dry with the summer heat, and has evidently lost its appeal for the deer.  That makes the alfalfa in the feed barn look even better.  The bales are kept in a covered but open area with hog panel "gates."  In the past, if I've forgotten to put the chain around the middle post to keep the gates closed, the deer have pushed them in to get to the alfalfa.  Once I even found the gate completely off the hinges and halfway across the front yard.  I could just imagine a deer with a wire gate on its head, and the reaction it would have gotten from its herd-mates.  There is a bale now that is barely out of reach through the panels, and I can see every morning where the deer have done their darnedest to get to it.  It seems the word is out amongst the wild things.  I guess I do run a soup kitchen.