Thug Life

Why can't we all just get along?  Goats grazing peacefully in the field, chickens pecking at their grain, birds playfully splashing in the birdbath.  That's the way it should be.  Not.  Perhaps the heat had made them cranky, but yesterday the girls were ganging up on Cindy, pushing her away from the alfalfa.  It hurts my feelings when the herd is mean to my little black goat with her pink tongue stuck out.  She is my BFF, after all, and she tells me that every morning.

Percy and Pal were tag-teaming me, one sneaking in to steal grain on one side of the stand while the other ripped off the mice's (is that a word?) breakfast on the other.  One I could douse with a stream of milk and the other I could swat at but never hit as they continued to raid.  These pint-sized thieves are a pain in the patoot.  The thing is, if they would just show a little patience, I put down feed just for them before leaving the barn.

One of the red pullets thinks she is boss.  They all come tumbling out when their door is opened, some running to the grain, others going for water, and that red one comes after me!  She pecks at my shoes and tries to run me out of the pen.  She'd better realize which side of her bread is buttered and who puts it there, or pot pie could go on the menu.

Once the sun had started its afternoon slide, Bess and I went out to the porch while I turned the sprinkler on in the herb garden.  It fills the birdbath at the same time, and it doesn't take long for my feathered friends to arrive.  A California jay was happily splashing when a much smaller redheaded woodpecker bully drove him away.  The woodpecker raucously shouted his victory cry, claiming the territory for his gang.  Pretty soon there were four or five 'peckers in the pool, their red heads frouzled from the spray. 

So much for the Peaceable Kingdom.