This morning, I found one of the chicks perched on the top of the pen. Clearly it's time to get their new coop ready and move them. Otherwise, I may wake up one morning to a chick nesting in my hair. It's hard to believe they are only two weeks old. For the past two weeks, we have been putting the kittens in the bathroom for the night because we didn't want them making an impromptu visit to the pen. They've been fairly content with the arrangement, as when I make my multiple nightly visits they are always curled up together and seem happy to see me, but not overly eager to escape. For the past two nights, they have been left out in the house at night. To be honest, the chicks are outgrowing the kittens, and at this point if a kitten did end up in the pen, the chaos created by 20 hysterical, wing-flapping, high pitched cheeping, body slamming chicks would send the poor little fellow crawling up the wall and out in a blink of an eye.
Most evenings I take a walk down our lane. I like to take as many animals with me as a possible. There is no question about the dog. If I so much as walk out the front door after supper she convulsively leaps to her feet and barrels down the lane in anticipation. Of course, there's no helping the droopy disappointment if I'm just heading out to the lawn chair with a book. The bunny goes where the dog does. He's reluctant, but dedicated. He does have a tendency to wuss out on the way home though, flopping over in the middle of the lane and refusing to move. He hates being carried, so the threat of being tucked under my arm usually gets him going again.
The kittens are another matter altogether. My last cat, Frodo, (bless his wandering heart) went with us for every walk, from the time he was 7 weeks old. Even at that young age, when he got tired he hated being carried and kept insisting he could make it on his own. Sheldon and Sawyer have no interest in walks, and prefer wrestling in the dirt under the porch, chasing butterflies and throwing each other down the front steps. I tried carrying them partway down the lane and then putting them down, hoping they'd follow. Instead, they wrestled in the dirt, chased butterflies and threw each other into the ditch, there being no stairs handy. I then tried carrying one of them while the other one stood forlornly in the lane trying to decide exactly how much he really needed his brother, after all. We had a bit of success with this method, as it turns out they are pretty attached to each other, and once trotting along beside us, they seemed to enjoy themselves.
Last night I just took Sheldon with me. Sawyer was sound asleep on the couch, and I couldn't bear to disturb him. Just kidding. My alternate choice of activity last night, had the walk not panned out, would have been flicking his whiskers to see how long it would take him to wake up. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know what they say about the easily amused...
Anyway, I took Sheldon with me, carried him part of the way down the lane and then put him down and kept walking. He turned to head back, saw how far it was, chased a bug into the edge of the lane, beat up a few blades of grass, saw I had moved on, sat down on the lane and cried. Then he followed. I didn't go the entire way down the lane, as I unexpectedly needed a potty break and the farmers were working the adjoining fields. The trees by the side of the lane don't provide that much privacy. Besides, bunny started flopping over sooner than usual, probably due to a slow recovery from the intense heat that we've been having. Mini the dog had already done 3 trips up and down the lane to my 1/2, so she was okay with heading back. By the time we returned, Sheldon was doing the "running w/the pack thing", trying to keep up with Mini and feeling all big-boyish. It was sweet.
On a sadder note, one of our hens is sick and didn't end up in the hen house last night. She's had diarrhea since I stopped the antibiotics I was giving them for a respiratory problem several of them had. I have been feeding her kefir on chunks of bread, kefir being a highly probiotic fermented milk drink. She has been eating well, but hanging around the house and looking quiet. She's been sweet, because every time I go out of the house she follows me around and sits under my chair if I'm lounging. Chickens are social creatures, and it's been hard for her, that the other chickens have been touring the grounds and she has been left behind. I hope that she is just tucked under somewhere getting better. That's not likely though. Sadness.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Hello, little chick, how fast can you grow?
Well, it has been a long time since I have updated this blog, at least a week which is months in chick years. I would feel guilty, really I would, but I've been too ill to care. About the blog, that is. The chicks, on the other hand, have continued to be 20 bundles of chirping, fluffy, feathery fun and an endless source of amusement while the chronic illness I have, interstitial cystitis, has been kicking my butt.
Marc is sure that the chicks are mostly roosters, because they are all so darn pretty. He could be right. They are gorgeous. One thing that is surprising is that many of them are white, and we didn't have any eggs from our white hen. She died from a rabid respiratory illness a few months ago. The eggs were all brown, except for the Americauna ones, which were robin blue. I thought it was supposed to be, brown eggs, "brown" chickens. Oddness. They seem to have almost tripled in size, and began to develop feathers almost immediately. The feathers came out so quickly, I'm sure if I held a chick for an hour or two and watched him, I'd be able to see them growing!
Gracie picked out a chick to be her special pet, and called her Muffin. When she's sitting to watch t.v or do homework, she puts the chick on her shoulder. It's beyond cute. I am trying to win the heart of the Americauna. I named her Beauty. I thought that if she turns out to be a he, I'd change his name to Beast, but I don't think that will happen. He's just too lovely.
We've had some seriously hot weather, lately, and the chicks were afraid of the ceiling fan in the dining area. When I put it on, they all flipping out and piled themselves into a corner, frantically cheeping. Earlier this week, I had to clean out the pen. I used a broom to sweep the shredded paper bedding into piles, which of course caused no end of cheeping and wailing and corner piling. I figured since I was already traumatizing them, I might as well try the fan out again, and this time they didn't react to it. I guess it's all about perspective. Moving propellers on the ceiling pale in comparison to the big red broom chasing them around our home. We all very much appreciate their new found courage, because the temperature soared, at times in the 40's in the sun, and the ability to use the fan was a godsend. Brave little darlings.
So, yesterday I was lying on a lawn chair in the shade of the maple tree in the yard. A chicken was asleep under my chair, panting. The rest of the hens and Bruce were slowly wandering the lawn, pecking at things and holding their wings out slightly to let the warm breeze cool their wing-pits. The dog was sprawled out beside me, chasing squirrels in her mind. Bunny was spread out near the dog. The kittens, still dubbed The Farty Boys, were wrestling madly, throwing each other into the rhubarb, chasing each other up the tree and then pushing each other off of the tree, playing chicken with each other and chest bumping in midair. Frankly, it's a good thing they have each other, because nobody was up to playing with them. They had been growled at by the dog, pecked at by a hen or two, and even the bunny wasn't interested. I just wanted to kiss them, but they did the usual squirming, "aw, mom!" stuff.
It was sunny and hot and the wild pink roses were out. I love the wild roses. It felt peaceful. And I was happy.
Marc is sure that the chicks are mostly roosters, because they are all so darn pretty. He could be right. They are gorgeous. One thing that is surprising is that many of them are white, and we didn't have any eggs from our white hen. She died from a rabid respiratory illness a few months ago. The eggs were all brown, except for the Americauna ones, which were robin blue. I thought it was supposed to be, brown eggs, "brown" chickens. Oddness. They seem to have almost tripled in size, and began to develop feathers almost immediately. The feathers came out so quickly, I'm sure if I held a chick for an hour or two and watched him, I'd be able to see them growing!
Gracie picked out a chick to be her special pet, and called her Muffin. When she's sitting to watch t.v or do homework, she puts the chick on her shoulder. It's beyond cute. I am trying to win the heart of the Americauna. I named her Beauty. I thought that if she turns out to be a he, I'd change his name to Beast, but I don't think that will happen. He's just too lovely.
We've had some seriously hot weather, lately, and the chicks were afraid of the ceiling fan in the dining area. When I put it on, they all flipping out and piled themselves into a corner, frantically cheeping. Earlier this week, I had to clean out the pen. I used a broom to sweep the shredded paper bedding into piles, which of course caused no end of cheeping and wailing and corner piling. I figured since I was already traumatizing them, I might as well try the fan out again, and this time they didn't react to it. I guess it's all about perspective. Moving propellers on the ceiling pale in comparison to the big red broom chasing them around our home. We all very much appreciate their new found courage, because the temperature soared, at times in the 40's in the sun, and the ability to use the fan was a godsend. Brave little darlings.
So, yesterday I was lying on a lawn chair in the shade of the maple tree in the yard. A chicken was asleep under my chair, panting. The rest of the hens and Bruce were slowly wandering the lawn, pecking at things and holding their wings out slightly to let the warm breeze cool their wing-pits. The dog was sprawled out beside me, chasing squirrels in her mind. Bunny was spread out near the dog. The kittens, still dubbed The Farty Boys, were wrestling madly, throwing each other into the rhubarb, chasing each other up the tree and then pushing each other off of the tree, playing chicken with each other and chest bumping in midair. Frankly, it's a good thing they have each other, because nobody was up to playing with them. They had been growled at by the dog, pecked at by a hen or two, and even the bunny wasn't interested. I just wanted to kiss them, but they did the usual squirming, "aw, mom!" stuff.
It was sunny and hot and the wild pink roses were out. I love the wild roses. It felt peaceful. And I was happy.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
The final tally
I was kindly reminded yesterday that it had been a few days since I have updated. Thanks, Howard. :) We were up until 2:30 am on Sunday morning, and then Sunday was a huge day and so yesterday I basically crashed. In the sun with a book and the critters. Lovely day.
The hatching was pretty much finished on Saturday night. After several efforts to count the fuzzy little bundles in the pen, we think we may have 20 chicks. If they'd stop moving for a minute, we'd know for sure.
We were initially told to put twice as many eggs in the incubator as we wanted to hatch, because we'd lose half of them, which is pretty much what happened. About six of the chicks died in the process of hatching, one died shortly after, one died a day later and the rest of the eggs didn't hatch, either because they died somewhere in the midst of the development or because they were never fertilized.
The saddest thing was watching the chicks that had been trying to hatch all day grow weak and then die. We knew that we shouldn't help them out, and that was tough. In fact, late Saturday afternoon I was watching one that had been trying to hatch, and I did reach in and flick a bit of shell off for her. Later, Marc was watching her, and he confessed to me that he had helped her, too. She did eventually get out, but she was the one who died shortly after her birth. If they don't have the strength to get out of the egg, they won't be able to survive life outside the egg. Poor little things. We were disappointed that only one of the Americauna chicks hatched. She's a beauty, though. I say she because there is no way I can tell what sex they are yet, so I am alternating between he and she. I think we are going to try to get a few more Americauna eggs to hatch later.
After they had dried in the incubator, we popped them into the pen. Marc had made a plastic dome out of half a barrel, and threaded the heat lamp through it. He propped it up on bricks and the temperature in the dome is perfect for them. They can linger around the edge of it if it gets too warm for them, or go inside right under the heat light if it gets cool in the room. They started popping around almost immediately. They were like little Weebles, running around, wobbling and falling over and popping back up. They cheep incessantly, but usually it's a soft noise and not intrusive at all. Sometimes there's a bit of a tussle between a couple of the chicks and their voices will raise as they tell each other off, but nothing lasts too long.
Mini is interested in them, and peers over the top of the pen occasionally, especially when the cheeping is loud and they sound distressed. The kittens are also interested, but they can't get into the pen. They can hear the cheeping and pecking and think, "Play toys!!!"
I've been taking pictures,and will try to upload some to my Photobucket account and post links. I'm in a bladder flare, and am not feeling great, so I think today might be another crash day. I feel like I am wasting the sunny warm weather, but there no rule saying I can't crash outside, right?!
I've really enjoyed this whole experience, even if the hatching did happen on the busiest week-end we've had in ages. It was so exciting, and the babies are adorable. Now, the adventure of watching them grow begins. They already have wing feathers coming. I think, like all babies, this stage will pass quickly.
I wonder what teen-age chickens are like?
Yikes. ;)
The hatching was pretty much finished on Saturday night. After several efforts to count the fuzzy little bundles in the pen, we think we may have 20 chicks. If they'd stop moving for a minute, we'd know for sure.
We were initially told to put twice as many eggs in the incubator as we wanted to hatch, because we'd lose half of them, which is pretty much what happened. About six of the chicks died in the process of hatching, one died shortly after, one died a day later and the rest of the eggs didn't hatch, either because they died somewhere in the midst of the development or because they were never fertilized.
The saddest thing was watching the chicks that had been trying to hatch all day grow weak and then die. We knew that we shouldn't help them out, and that was tough. In fact, late Saturday afternoon I was watching one that had been trying to hatch, and I did reach in and flick a bit of shell off for her. Later, Marc was watching her, and he confessed to me that he had helped her, too. She did eventually get out, but she was the one who died shortly after her birth. If they don't have the strength to get out of the egg, they won't be able to survive life outside the egg. Poor little things. We were disappointed that only one of the Americauna chicks hatched. She's a beauty, though. I say she because there is no way I can tell what sex they are yet, so I am alternating between he and she. I think we are going to try to get a few more Americauna eggs to hatch later.
After they had dried in the incubator, we popped them into the pen. Marc had made a plastic dome out of half a barrel, and threaded the heat lamp through it. He propped it up on bricks and the temperature in the dome is perfect for them. They can linger around the edge of it if it gets too warm for them, or go inside right under the heat light if it gets cool in the room. They started popping around almost immediately. They were like little Weebles, running around, wobbling and falling over and popping back up. They cheep incessantly, but usually it's a soft noise and not intrusive at all. Sometimes there's a bit of a tussle between a couple of the chicks and their voices will raise as they tell each other off, but nothing lasts too long.
Mini is interested in them, and peers over the top of the pen occasionally, especially when the cheeping is loud and they sound distressed. The kittens are also interested, but they can't get into the pen. They can hear the cheeping and pecking and think, "Play toys!!!"
I've been taking pictures,and will try to upload some to my Photobucket account and post links. I'm in a bladder flare, and am not feeling great, so I think today might be another crash day. I feel like I am wasting the sunny warm weather, but there no rule saying I can't crash outside, right?!
I've really enjoyed this whole experience, even if the hatching did happen on the busiest week-end we've had in ages. It was so exciting, and the babies are adorable. Now, the adventure of watching them grow begins. They already have wing feathers coming. I think, like all babies, this stage will pass quickly.
I wonder what teen-age chickens are like?
Yikes. ;)
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Ten chicks overnight, and they're still coming...
I crawled into bed exhausted at around 12:30 a.m this morning, with six chicks under the heat lamp and two newly hatched in the incubator. Gracie had come home from the Glee Cabaret and there was lots of chatting about her evening and crooning over the fluffy black and yellow chicks.
We took the egg turner out of the incubator and lay the eggs on the mesh screen at the bottom, to prevent any of the other chicks getting caught between the wall of the incubator and the turner. It also made it easier for the newly hatched chicks to get around the incubator and to be comfortable as they waited for us to discover them in the morning.
I did a potty run just before 4:00 a.m, and there were 8 hatched chicks. At 6:00 a.m, when Marc got up and I followed to check the chicks again (and yes, for another potty run), there were 10. We were especially delighted to see that one of the blue Americauna eggs had hatched. We had gotten 5 Americauna eggs from a friend of ours, and they were quite a bit smaller than our eggs in the incubator. The little mottled black and yellow chick is also smaller than the others, and she has the most lovely eyes, lined in black, bright and alert. I think only one of the other Americauna eggs have holes pecked in them. I'm hoping we get at least a couple more. Americauna chickens are really pretty, with lovely plumage. We have one Americauna hen, and while she doesn't lay eggs, she is lovely, with gold fringed feathers. They also lay interesting eggs, of various colors. The eggs we have are robin blue, but Americauna eggs can range from lilac and chocolate brown to olive green and turquoise blue. Quite exotic, for chicken eggs.
All 10 chicks have been moved from the incubator to the heat-lit dome, and there is quite a bit of cheeping coming from the other eggs in the incubator. Basically, we had expected to get half the chicks for the eggs that we had put in, so anything over 21 chicks is a bonus. If all the chicks that have poked holes through their egg shells get out, we'll have many more than 21.
The kittens have caught on to the fact that there is something small, noisy and interesting-smelling in the corner of the kitchen. The temporary pen is made of cardboard, and the kittens love to scratch around at the bottom. They can't get in, yet, but we're not taking chances. We put them both in the bathroom last night, and will need to make sure they aren't left alone with the pen when we aren't here. I am also endeavoring to teach them to leave the pen alone, with the judicial application of the flyswatter and ample amounts of kitty treats as rewards for obedience.
Mini likes to look over the top, and is especially interested when the cheeping sounds distressed, as it does whenever we pick one of the chicks up. I think she wants to make sure that they are okay. She's such a great dog.
So, it looks like Hatching Day is going to be Hatching Week-end.
Cool.
We took the egg turner out of the incubator and lay the eggs on the mesh screen at the bottom, to prevent any of the other chicks getting caught between the wall of the incubator and the turner. It also made it easier for the newly hatched chicks to get around the incubator and to be comfortable as they waited for us to discover them in the morning.
I did a potty run just before 4:00 a.m, and there were 8 hatched chicks. At 6:00 a.m, when Marc got up and I followed to check the chicks again (and yes, for another potty run), there were 10. We were especially delighted to see that one of the blue Americauna eggs had hatched. We had gotten 5 Americauna eggs from a friend of ours, and they were quite a bit smaller than our eggs in the incubator. The little mottled black and yellow chick is also smaller than the others, and she has the most lovely eyes, lined in black, bright and alert. I think only one of the other Americauna eggs have holes pecked in them. I'm hoping we get at least a couple more. Americauna chickens are really pretty, with lovely plumage. We have one Americauna hen, and while she doesn't lay eggs, she is lovely, with gold fringed feathers. They also lay interesting eggs, of various colors. The eggs we have are robin blue, but Americauna eggs can range from lilac and chocolate brown to olive green and turquoise blue. Quite exotic, for chicken eggs.
All 10 chicks have been moved from the incubator to the heat-lit dome, and there is quite a bit of cheeping coming from the other eggs in the incubator. Basically, we had expected to get half the chicks for the eggs that we had put in, so anything over 21 chicks is a bonus. If all the chicks that have poked holes through their egg shells get out, we'll have many more than 21.
The kittens have caught on to the fact that there is something small, noisy and interesting-smelling in the corner of the kitchen. The temporary pen is made of cardboard, and the kittens love to scratch around at the bottom. They can't get in, yet, but we're not taking chances. We put them both in the bathroom last night, and will need to make sure they aren't left alone with the pen when we aren't here. I am also endeavoring to teach them to leave the pen alone, with the judicial application of the flyswatter and ample amounts of kitty treats as rewards for obedience.
Mini likes to look over the top, and is especially interested when the cheeping sounds distressed, as it does whenever we pick one of the chicks up. I think she wants to make sure that they are okay. She's such a great dog.
So, it looks like Hatching Day is going to be Hatching Week-end.
Cool.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Things are moving slowly, but still moving...
We have six chicks hatched, and almost all of the eggs have holes in them. I think many will hatch overnight. One of the hatched chicks got stuck between the wall of the incubator and the automatic turner, and needed help to get out. I'm pretty sure she would have died if left too long. Something tells me I'm not going to get a lot of sleep tonight. I didn't fall asleep when I went to nap, either. I just kept listening to the cheeping, and hoping that everything was okay. Of course, everything was okay.
I probably shouldn't be hovering like this, but it's hard not to. It's funny, I was just about to write that I felt I might be neglecting the rest of the animals, and even Gracie who is in the Cabaret show at CVR tonight. Then Sawyer, one of the kittens, trotted by with a huge turd stuck to his bum, and I pushed the computer aside to chase Mr. Stinky-butt with a kleenex. Guess I'm not missing everything. And I have been praying all night for Gracie. I can't wait to hear about it, or to see the show tomorrow night!
So, many if not all of those little holes in those little eggs will turn into cracks that let loose our chickies. As for Mr. Stinky-butt, he took off when he saw me coming, and when I finally caught him, he was sans turd. Brat. He did make a pass over the shoes in front of the door. I looked and looked, but...let's just say someone may find a surprise in their shoe tomorrow! And it won't be a chick!
Muahahahahahahaha!
As for me, I'm going to be wearing sandals. :)
I probably shouldn't be hovering like this, but it's hard not to. It's funny, I was just about to write that I felt I might be neglecting the rest of the animals, and even Gracie who is in the Cabaret show at CVR tonight. Then Sawyer, one of the kittens, trotted by with a huge turd stuck to his bum, and I pushed the computer aside to chase Mr. Stinky-butt with a kleenex. Guess I'm not missing everything. And I have been praying all night for Gracie. I can't wait to hear about it, or to see the show tomorrow night!
So, many if not all of those little holes in those little eggs will turn into cracks that let loose our chickies. As for Mr. Stinky-butt, he took off when he saw me coming, and when I finally caught him, he was sans turd. Brat. He did make a pass over the shoes in front of the door. I looked and looked, but...let's just say someone may find a surprise in their shoe tomorrow! And it won't be a chick!
Muahahahahahahaha!
As for me, I'm going to be wearing sandals. :)
Two chicks so far, fast and fluffy!
There have been two chicks out for most of the day. The others are slowly making their way out, peck by peck. I had a lovely lunch out with my friends, Karen and Sandy, and I am proud to report that I was able to talk about something else besides the chicks. Or kittens. So yeah. Yay me. ;)
One of the eggs is actually rocking back and forth. The egg that we initially saw with a hole in it is still not hatched. The hole has only been enlarged a bit. I guess the chicks vary in strength and stamina. Some of them will most likely have died, and some will not make it through the hatching, which is sad but reality. Some may not even make it through the week in our kitchen, although we do plan to do our best. The two that have hatched are fluffy and gold, and will grow up to be red/brown. They have bright yellow beaks and feet. Like many young animals, their feet are freakishly large.
The pen is prepared, with a plastic dome over the bedding. A heat lamp is installed in the dome, and Marc has been adjusting the height of the dome until the temperature is right. It needs to be 100F for the first week, and I think 5 degrees less per week. The feeder and water dispenser are ready as well. There is almost a constant cheeping coming from the incubator, not just from the hatched chicks but from within the other eggs. Several little yellow beaks are poked through hard-earned holes, announcing their tiny but significant presence to the world.
I'm heading up for a nap. All of this birthing stuff is exhausting!
One of the eggs is actually rocking back and forth. The egg that we initially saw with a hole in it is still not hatched. The hole has only been enlarged a bit. I guess the chicks vary in strength and stamina. Some of them will most likely have died, and some will not make it through the hatching, which is sad but reality. Some may not even make it through the week in our kitchen, although we do plan to do our best. The two that have hatched are fluffy and gold, and will grow up to be red/brown. They have bright yellow beaks and feet. Like many young animals, their feet are freakishly large.
The pen is prepared, with a plastic dome over the bedding. A heat lamp is installed in the dome, and Marc has been adjusting the height of the dome until the temperature is right. It needs to be 100F for the first week, and I think 5 degrees less per week. The feeder and water dispenser are ready as well. There is almost a constant cheeping coming from the incubator, not just from the hatched chicks but from within the other eggs. Several little yellow beaks are poked through hard-earned holes, announcing their tiny but significant presence to the world.
I'm heading up for a nap. All of this birthing stuff is exhausting!
One out...41 to go!
I thought I might be able to update in the comments of the last post, but a lot has happened in the past two and a half hours. One of the chicks has hatched entirely, and while it was an agonizing process to watch, it was awesome. And I mean awesome in the way it is meant to be used, not the way I usually use it, which is to signify something cool. This was awe inspiring.
The other chicks that have poked through are taking their time, which leads me to think that the one that has hatched initially broke through his shell sometime in the night. He isn't the one that I saw at first. That hole on that egg is still fairly small. The hatched one is out and flopping around the incubator. We are calling him a male because Marc wants more than anything to call him Adam. No, it doesn't make sense, but I've been up since 5:30 a.m and am too tired to protest. Plus, it's cute.
Marc is building a pen for the chicks in our kitchen. I don't think I have mentioned how small our house is. Our down stairs is one and a half rooms, a kitchen/living room/dining room and a half bath. So, for the next week, our lives will consist of chicks and kittens and the never-ending chore of keeping the house from smelling like a barn. If it doesn't warm up soon outside, it may be longer. I'm okay with that now, but I am aware that it may get tiresome. Or maybe not. Who knows?
The chick that has hatched is adorable. He's golden, alert and he seems strong. He has bright eyes, and when he hears my voice he turns his head in my direction and cheeps. He has to stay in the incubator until he dries, and it must be lonely in there. Poor little fellow. All that work, and he's left alone in a Styrofoam box surrounded by unhatched siblings. I was impressed with the way he broke his egg shell. He pecked a crack around the egg, like we do when cracking a egg. Then he was able to just pop the top off. Talk about the wonder of creation. It's the most energy efficient way for him, but how did he know the pattern? How did he know not to just peck randomly until the egg fell apart? It's lovely, to be able to see the hand of God in such simple, small things.
Marc is pretty sure he's an athlete, having been able to bust out so soon. If he's a rooster, Marc will probably want to name him Rambo or something. What can I say? We've had roosters named Aragorn, Tevye and now Bruce. Maybe it's time for a Rambo?
Marc just counted. There are 12 more chicks that have broken through their shells and are on their way. Woot!
The other chicks that have poked through are taking their time, which leads me to think that the one that has hatched initially broke through his shell sometime in the night. He isn't the one that I saw at first. That hole on that egg is still fairly small. The hatched one is out and flopping around the incubator. We are calling him a male because Marc wants more than anything to call him Adam. No, it doesn't make sense, but I've been up since 5:30 a.m and am too tired to protest. Plus, it's cute.
Marc is building a pen for the chicks in our kitchen. I don't think I have mentioned how small our house is. Our down stairs is one and a half rooms, a kitchen/living room/dining room and a half bath. So, for the next week, our lives will consist of chicks and kittens and the never-ending chore of keeping the house from smelling like a barn. If it doesn't warm up soon outside, it may be longer. I'm okay with that now, but I am aware that it may get tiresome. Or maybe not. Who knows?
The chick that has hatched is adorable. He's golden, alert and he seems strong. He has bright eyes, and when he hears my voice he turns his head in my direction and cheeps. He has to stay in the incubator until he dries, and it must be lonely in there. Poor little fellow. All that work, and he's left alone in a Styrofoam box surrounded by unhatched siblings. I was impressed with the way he broke his egg shell. He pecked a crack around the egg, like we do when cracking a egg. Then he was able to just pop the top off. Talk about the wonder of creation. It's the most energy efficient way for him, but how did he know the pattern? How did he know not to just peck randomly until the egg fell apart? It's lovely, to be able to see the hand of God in such simple, small things.
Marc is pretty sure he's an athlete, having been able to bust out so soon. If he's a rooster, Marc will probably want to name him Rambo or something. What can I say? We've had roosters named Aragorn, Tevye and now Bruce. Maybe it's time for a Rambo?
Marc just counted. There are 12 more chicks that have broken through their shells and are on their way. Woot!
It's Starting...!
It's 6:16 am and there is a hole in one of the eggs! I woke up early, and was lying on the couch with Marc when I joked about hearing cheeping from the incubator. Then, we DID hear cheeping! It's early for the chick, too, as they aren't due until tonight! There's a tiny little beak peeking out of the broken egg shell, and every once in a while it cheeps. Oh my goodness, it is beyond adorable!!!
Marc is hovering over the incubator (ah, so this is why it's called The HovaBator), and thinks the first chick hatched should be named Adam or Eve. Fitting. Actually, we found another egg that has a bigger hole on the side of it that we hadn't noticed before. Marc wants to put a little dab of food dye on the head of the first chick hatched, so we can see how he/she does.
Stay tuned...I think this will be a busy day here in The Chicken Diaries. I'll be home most of the day, hovering (See? See?) over the incubator, oohing and aw'ing. I am going out for lunch with friends, and I am making a pledge right now not to spend the whole time talking about my chicks. Seriously. Okay, I'll at least try...
I'll let you know when the first chick has achieved freedom from his/her egg.
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Marc is hovering over the incubator (ah, so this is why it's called The HovaBator), and thinks the first chick hatched should be named Adam or Eve. Fitting. Actually, we found another egg that has a bigger hole on the side of it that we hadn't noticed before. Marc wants to put a little dab of food dye on the head of the first chick hatched, so we can see how he/she does.
Stay tuned...I think this will be a busy day here in The Chicken Diaries. I'll be home most of the day, hovering (See? See?) over the incubator, oohing and aw'ing. I am going out for lunch with friends, and I am making a pledge right now not to spend the whole time talking about my chicks. Seriously. Okay, I'll at least try...
I'll let you know when the first chick has achieved freedom from his/her egg.
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Tomorrow is hatching day!
Tomorrow Marc and I are going to become parents! Apparently the whole hatching thing is pretty precise, which means that it should start sometime tomorrow afternoon and finish sometime tomorrow night. We have decided to put the incubator in the middle of the kitchen table, to facilitate the compulsive checking that we will be doing. After all, there's no point in fooling ourselves. We will be hovering over those eggs in manic anticipation all day, like Cruella Devil over a litter of dalmatians. Only with better intentions. Well, except for the roosters. Oh, let's not go there now.
Marc built a feeder for the chicks on principle, after going to the local pet store and and recoiling at the thought of paying $25 for one. He also built a plastic dome to go over their little pen. He did buy a heat lamp bulb, because even he can't create one of those, no matter how much duct tape and barbed wire he uses.
It occurred to me last night, what if only one hatches? Anyone wanna bet that one chick will become an ultra spoiled rotten diva of the chicken world? More than the hens we already have, I mean. And Marc bought a 80 kilo bag of chick starter. Whoever comes, I hope they're hungry!
I am quite excited. I probably don't need to write that, it being obvious, but I think repeating myself is a symptom of extreme excitement.
Have I mentioned how excited I am?
Marc built a feeder for the chicks on principle, after going to the local pet store and and recoiling at the thought of paying $25 for one. He also built a plastic dome to go over their little pen. He did buy a heat lamp bulb, because even he can't create one of those, no matter how much duct tape and barbed wire he uses.
It occurred to me last night, what if only one hatches? Anyone wanna bet that one chick will become an ultra spoiled rotten diva of the chicken world? More than the hens we already have, I mean. And Marc bought a 80 kilo bag of chick starter. Whoever comes, I hope they're hungry!
I am quite excited. I probably don't need to write that, it being obvious, but I think repeating myself is a symptom of extreme excitement.
Have I mentioned how excited I am?
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Two more days to Hatch day!!
Two more days to hatch day! Awk! I am getting excited, and a little nervous. What if none of them hatch? What if they're all male? What if they all hatch?? What if, what if, what if...I wonder if hens go through all of this when they are sitting on eggs. Probably not. I am literally being out-serenity'd by a chicken. Sigh.
Marc is busy building a chick nursery. I think he's pretty much McGyvering it, but he's a genius at stuff like this, so I trust him completely. Sort of. ;)
The kittens are doing well. They are growing at an amazing rate. They have this obsession with drinking out of the dog's water bucket instead of their own smaller dish, and as the weeks past they have gone from having to stand on their tippy toes in order to reach the water when the bucket is full to being able to drink from it when it is only at half mast. They spend most of their days wrestling. As they get older, their wrestling moves have come to include full body slams as well as throwing each other off of various surfaces. They have just started going upstairs, so it won't be long before they start tossing each other down the stairs for fun. At least they are evenly matched, in size and strength as well as propensity for evil.
The chickens are also thriving. The antibiotics seem to work, as there is now no sneezing or sniffling in the coop when I go in at night to close the door. Just soft snoring. I love seeing them on the front lawn, or in the fields scratching for worms. They look very peaceful and pastoral. Especially now that Bruce the rooster has stopped with the attacks. The other night the light was left on in the porch and the next morning there were at least 10 June bugs lying on the porch floor. I picked them up and flicked them out to the chickens. Apparently June bugs are the equivalent of Scooby snax to chickens. And no, I didn't feel guilty. Years ago, I somehow got a June bug stuck up under my hair during the last 30 seconds of a Canadians play-off game, and my husband at the time, Grace's dad, suggested that I wait until the game was over before he responded to my hysterical screams of "Get it out! Get it out! GET IT OUT!!!!" Since the Bible says I have to forgive my husband, I've been taking it out on June bugs ever since. Beasts. But the chickens love them.
Marc is busy building a chick nursery. I think he's pretty much McGyvering it, but he's a genius at stuff like this, so I trust him completely. Sort of. ;)
The kittens are doing well. They are growing at an amazing rate. They have this obsession with drinking out of the dog's water bucket instead of their own smaller dish, and as the weeks past they have gone from having to stand on their tippy toes in order to reach the water when the bucket is full to being able to drink from it when it is only at half mast. They spend most of their days wrestling. As they get older, their wrestling moves have come to include full body slams as well as throwing each other off of various surfaces. They have just started going upstairs, so it won't be long before they start tossing each other down the stairs for fun. At least they are evenly matched, in size and strength as well as propensity for evil.
The chickens are also thriving. The antibiotics seem to work, as there is now no sneezing or sniffling in the coop when I go in at night to close the door. Just soft snoring. I love seeing them on the front lawn, or in the fields scratching for worms. They look very peaceful and pastoral. Especially now that Bruce the rooster has stopped with the attacks. The other night the light was left on in the porch and the next morning there were at least 10 June bugs lying on the porch floor. I picked them up and flicked them out to the chickens. Apparently June bugs are the equivalent of Scooby snax to chickens. And no, I didn't feel guilty. Years ago, I somehow got a June bug stuck up under my hair during the last 30 seconds of a Canadians play-off game, and my husband at the time, Grace's dad, suggested that I wait until the game was over before he responded to my hysterical screams of "Get it out! Get it out! GET IT OUT!!!!" Since the Bible says I have to forgive my husband, I've been taking it out on June bugs ever since. Beasts. But the chickens love them.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Of Chickens, Antibiotics and Kitten Love.
It's Monday today, and the chicks are due on Friday. Marc found that the temperature in The HovaBator was a bit low today and had to turn it up. It snowed here yesterday and Marc put the coal stove on, and it heated the house so much that he had to lower the temp. of the incubator. He forgot to turn it up again. We are hoping that the chicks will be okay.
Everyone else is doing well. The chickens are on day 4 of antibiotics. That was an adventure. There are a few of the hens that have been sniffling and sneezing lately, and one that came down with a full blown sinus infection that was so serious we ended up having to put her down. We have been trying to find poultry antibiotics around here for a while, but have had no luck. I ordered some on-line, from a great place called Jeffer's, and it came last week.
Now, I am a fairly intelligent person. I do have a tendency towards apparent flightiness due to the fact that my head is always full of wonderfully distracting things that seemingly have nothing to do with day-to-day life, but I can make my brain work when I need to. Still, I had a devil of a time figuring out how much antibiotics to give to the chickens. It came in a plastic bin, and the instructions seemed designed to dose hundreds of chickens at a time. I have eight.
First it said to make a stock solution, presumably gallons of the stuff. Then, I was to "meter" the stock solution into their drinking water at an ounce per gallon, or something like that. And the stock solution does not last past 12 hours. I was, like, huh? So I did what I usually do when I am stumped. I wrote "how to give poultry antibiotics" into a search engine. I essentially got the very same instructions that are on the plastic container my antibiotics came in. One lady did suggest putting bread in the solution to make sure they eat/drink it all, which I thought was just short of genius.
I appealed to my sister for help, as she has been through this before with her chickens. Her instructions helped. I ended up putting a bit of the antibiotic powder on the tip of a teaspoon and mixing it in 4 cups of water and giving it to them with bread or crackers crushed up in it. They eat the majority of it right away and then drink the remaining water for the rest of the day. It is really difficult to get free range chickens to drink from only one source. They have the dog's water, the rabbit's water, not to mention puddles and ditches and yesterday's snow. No one had died yet, so I hope I am doing it right.
The kittens are growing magnificently. Mini is still not impressed, although she does take the time to sniff their bums on a pretty regular basis. Yesterday they figured out how to get upstairs, and spent some time playing under Grace's bed after she had retired for the night. They play, eat, drink, poop and sleep. And we derive no end of pleasure watching them. It really is quite odd, but we don't question it. Some things in life are not to be analyzed, but simply enjoyed.
To close, a bit of kitten wisdom ~ A brother who has just been biting your toes, cheeks, ears, throat, and tail should still be trusted to clean your bum. This is, though, a one chance deal. Even kittens have limits...
Everyone else is doing well. The chickens are on day 4 of antibiotics. That was an adventure. There are a few of the hens that have been sniffling and sneezing lately, and one that came down with a full blown sinus infection that was so serious we ended up having to put her down. We have been trying to find poultry antibiotics around here for a while, but have had no luck. I ordered some on-line, from a great place called Jeffer's, and it came last week.
Now, I am a fairly intelligent person. I do have a tendency towards apparent flightiness due to the fact that my head is always full of wonderfully distracting things that seemingly have nothing to do with day-to-day life, but I can make my brain work when I need to. Still, I had a devil of a time figuring out how much antibiotics to give to the chickens. It came in a plastic bin, and the instructions seemed designed to dose hundreds of chickens at a time. I have eight.
First it said to make a stock solution, presumably gallons of the stuff. Then, I was to "meter" the stock solution into their drinking water at an ounce per gallon, or something like that. And the stock solution does not last past 12 hours. I was, like, huh? So I did what I usually do when I am stumped. I wrote "how to give poultry antibiotics" into a search engine. I essentially got the very same instructions that are on the plastic container my antibiotics came in. One lady did suggest putting bread in the solution to make sure they eat/drink it all, which I thought was just short of genius.
I appealed to my sister for help, as she has been through this before with her chickens. Her instructions helped. I ended up putting a bit of the antibiotic powder on the tip of a teaspoon and mixing it in 4 cups of water and giving it to them with bread or crackers crushed up in it. They eat the majority of it right away and then drink the remaining water for the rest of the day. It is really difficult to get free range chickens to drink from only one source. They have the dog's water, the rabbit's water, not to mention puddles and ditches and yesterday's snow. No one had died yet, so I hope I am doing it right.
The kittens are growing magnificently. Mini is still not impressed, although she does take the time to sniff their bums on a pretty regular basis. Yesterday they figured out how to get upstairs, and spent some time playing under Grace's bed after she had retired for the night. They play, eat, drink, poop and sleep. And we derive no end of pleasure watching them. It really is quite odd, but we don't question it. Some things in life are not to be analyzed, but simply enjoyed.
To close, a bit of kitten wisdom ~ A brother who has just been biting your toes, cheeks, ears, throat, and tail should still be trusted to clean your bum. This is, though, a one chance deal. Even kittens have limits...
Friday, May 7, 2010
Seven days to The Hatching!
Tonight it will be seven days until The Hatching. Yesterday, I got a 5 lb bag of chick started food in the mail. I went to the local feed mill, and asked for prices. I can get a 40 kg bag of chick starter for a little over $10.00. But 40 kg??? My chicks will be eating chick starter for years! It kind of defeats the whole starter part of the Chick Starter.
I've still no idea how many chicks we'll get. I swing between expecting them all to hatch (eeep!) and fearing that none will hatch.(double eeep!) Life will, mostly likely, meet me somewhere in the middle.
We found a nest of about 10 eggs in the shed, behind some boards. We've been collecting 5 or 6 eggs a day, and the fact that there is a stockpile means that more of the hens are laying than we thought. We have 7 hens. One, Uhura, we've just never expected anything from, egg-wise. She has always been a bit fragile, shy, scruffy, sort of like the snot-nosed kid in grade school that always gets bullied and hangs out in the library at lunch time. Last summer, I used treats and coaxing to get her to come out of the coop, and she is pretty much as free-range as the rest now. She has special privileges, though. When I'm giving the chickens bread, she sits right by me and gets hers hand fed to her. Sometimes she'll sit on my lap for treats while the others scramble to grab the bits I throw out to them. When Uhura was more timid and bully bait, she didn't do well in the melee for treats. Now she probably could hold her own, but she's a pampered princess and doesn't need to anymore. She has only started laying eggs this spring, which is good news.
When we were choosing eggs to go in the incubator, Marc and I both wanted to make sure that we had some of Uhura's eggs to add in. It's a bit odd, as she is not the finest specimen of chicken-hood. But she was needy and a bit weak and so we put more effort into her and so she's special. We want to see her chicks. High tech geneticists, we're not.
If the chicks hatch next week-end, we'll be in the midst of the busiest week-end that we've had in a long time. It figures. It will all work out, though. I love new experiences. Especially when they involve fluffy, wobbly new creatures.
Mini, as dog of the family, protector and on-duty big sister, will most likely be adopting a permanent air of martyrdom. It's going take a lot of Scooby snacks to make up for kittens AND chicks....
I've still no idea how many chicks we'll get. I swing between expecting them all to hatch (eeep!) and fearing that none will hatch.(double eeep!) Life will, mostly likely, meet me somewhere in the middle.
We found a nest of about 10 eggs in the shed, behind some boards. We've been collecting 5 or 6 eggs a day, and the fact that there is a stockpile means that more of the hens are laying than we thought. We have 7 hens. One, Uhura, we've just never expected anything from, egg-wise. She has always been a bit fragile, shy, scruffy, sort of like the snot-nosed kid in grade school that always gets bullied and hangs out in the library at lunch time. Last summer, I used treats and coaxing to get her to come out of the coop, and she is pretty much as free-range as the rest now. She has special privileges, though. When I'm giving the chickens bread, she sits right by me and gets hers hand fed to her. Sometimes she'll sit on my lap for treats while the others scramble to grab the bits I throw out to them. When Uhura was more timid and bully bait, she didn't do well in the melee for treats. Now she probably could hold her own, but she's a pampered princess and doesn't need to anymore. She has only started laying eggs this spring, which is good news.
When we were choosing eggs to go in the incubator, Marc and I both wanted to make sure that we had some of Uhura's eggs to add in. It's a bit odd, as she is not the finest specimen of chicken-hood. But she was needy and a bit weak and so we put more effort into her and so she's special. We want to see her chicks. High tech geneticists, we're not.
If the chicks hatch next week-end, we'll be in the midst of the busiest week-end that we've had in a long time. It figures. It will all work out, though. I love new experiences. Especially when they involve fluffy, wobbly new creatures.
Mini, as dog of the family, protector and on-duty big sister, will most likely be adopting a permanent air of martyrdom. It's going take a lot of Scooby snacks to make up for kittens AND chicks....
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
An Evening Walk Down The Lane...en masse!
Last night we had our friend, Mark Tasse, over for Lost night. Every Tuesday night we all have supper together and then watch Lost, which is coming close to the end of it's last season. Last night was heart-breaking. It's an surprising event when the sadness of the happenings in the show trump the confusion of it all, but what can I say. We're junkies.
After supper but before Lost came on, there was a gorgeous double rainbow outside. I wanted to go for a walk down the lane, and the Marc(k)s accommodated me and came along. We also took Teddy, my friend's dog that we were keeping for the night, our dog Mini, the rabbit and the two kittens.
The dogs "get" the walk thing like no one's business. They love it. They live for it. It is air and water to them. Pippin the bunny enjoys walks because the dogs are there. He could do without a traipse down the lane, but he can't do without Mini, so along he comes. He has a habit of stopping in the middle of the lane, usually on the way back, for an emergency paw cleaning. There is only so much lane mud a bunny can handle. It takes a bit of coaxing to get him moving again, if not a gentle boot in the behind, but he is learning to co-operate.
The kittens are a different thing all together. I worked out a plan to acclimatize them to walking the lane. I was going to take them out, one at a time, teach them the drill, work them up to eventually walking the whole thing by themselves. Yada yada yada. We couldn't all go and leave one behind. We'd be hearing the wails of despair all the way down. Talk about putting a damper on things.
So we scooped up both kittens, walked partway down the lane, and put them on the ground and hoped they would follow. They stood uncertainly for a few seconds until one brother smacked the other brother upside the head for fun. Then they rolled around together on the lane a bit and headed, bouncing and tripping, back to the house. I picked up Sheldon, and left Sawyer on the lane by himself. He had no choice to follow. It's one thing to be unspeakably brave when your one pound fluff-ball of a brother is at your side. Alone, it's best to stick with the gang. He followed manfully. After a bit, I put Sheldon down, scooped up Sawyer and repeated the process. When I put them both down together then, they just knew to follow. They ended up walking the entire length of the lane. It was an impressive feat for such little guys.
So we had a lovely evening. Marc did mention that it would be interesting if we could get the chickens to follow us on our walks down the lane.
**sigh**
Oh, there are only nine days to go to hatching day! Everything seems to be going well. I keep dreaming about chicks pecking out of eggs. Fun!
After supper but before Lost came on, there was a gorgeous double rainbow outside. I wanted to go for a walk down the lane, and the Marc(k)s accommodated me and came along. We also took Teddy, my friend's dog that we were keeping for the night, our dog Mini, the rabbit and the two kittens.
The dogs "get" the walk thing like no one's business. They love it. They live for it. It is air and water to them. Pippin the bunny enjoys walks because the dogs are there. He could do without a traipse down the lane, but he can't do without Mini, so along he comes. He has a habit of stopping in the middle of the lane, usually on the way back, for an emergency paw cleaning. There is only so much lane mud a bunny can handle. It takes a bit of coaxing to get him moving again, if not a gentle boot in the behind, but he is learning to co-operate.
The kittens are a different thing all together. I worked out a plan to acclimatize them to walking the lane. I was going to take them out, one at a time, teach them the drill, work them up to eventually walking the whole thing by themselves. Yada yada yada. We couldn't all go and leave one behind. We'd be hearing the wails of despair all the way down. Talk about putting a damper on things.
So we scooped up both kittens, walked partway down the lane, and put them on the ground and hoped they would follow. They stood uncertainly for a few seconds until one brother smacked the other brother upside the head for fun. Then they rolled around together on the lane a bit and headed, bouncing and tripping, back to the house. I picked up Sheldon, and left Sawyer on the lane by himself. He had no choice to follow. It's one thing to be unspeakably brave when your one pound fluff-ball of a brother is at your side. Alone, it's best to stick with the gang. He followed manfully. After a bit, I put Sheldon down, scooped up Sawyer and repeated the process. When I put them both down together then, they just knew to follow. They ended up walking the entire length of the lane. It was an impressive feat for such little guys.
So we had a lovely evening. Marc did mention that it would be interesting if we could get the chickens to follow us on our walks down the lane.
**sigh**
Oh, there are only nine days to go to hatching day! Everything seems to be going well. I keep dreaming about chicks pecking out of eggs. Fun!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Countdown to the Hatching ...10 days to go!
So as far as I can tell, we are on day 11 with the incubated eggs. Ten days to go. Woot! I have to tell you, waiting for the eggs to develop and hatch is a pretty boring endeavor. I had grand plans of posting every day about the adventures of nurturing this little group of eggs into full-blown chick fluffiness. I'm actually grateful we haven't had many adventures with this. Last week, we had a serious snowfall that cut power in some places, but not here. Thankfully. Even last night, friends I know had lost their power, probably due to thunder and wind storms. We have remained plugged in and on-line and I am glad.
This is not to say that there have not been other sorts of adventures. The kittens are a going concern, even now as the kitten-squirts have subsided (otherwise known in classier circles as diarrhea). So many rules, so few brain cells. I shouldn't be so hard on them. They are very young, only 8 weeks now. They are also unspeakably cute. I took Sheldon with me for a walk down the lane last night. Well, partly down the lane. Let's say he lacks focus. I ended up carrying him much of the way, but he's so small and sweet, it was a pleasure.
I figure at first, I'll have to take them one at a time. Otherwise, they'll just wrestle and tumble in the middle of the lane while I go nuts trying to coax them to follow me. Someone is going to get tossed into the water-filled ditch, I just know it. Probably Sheldon. Sawyer is turning out to be a bit of a bully. There's a fine line between the squealing, whining and complaining that they both do when wrestling and gnawing on each other, and the desperate wailing that happens when brother has a tooth 'n' claw grip on some vital body part and is going for broke. Ouch. The humans in the family all have claw marks and scratches up both arms and legs. One wonders what the babies look like under all that fur...
Mini lost her temper with bunny twice yesterday. There's the growling, brief bit of snarling that says, "Get away from my bum, you perv!" And then there's the out-of-control ferocious snarl that is, in no uncertain terms, a definite effort to solve the irritating bunny problem once and for all. She is always very remorseful afterward. I feel for her. I have, on occasion, had my "little bit of patience" meet up with "a whole lotta crazy" and have had close to the same reaction. But no matter how maddeningly irritating someone is, one cannot grab them by the neck and shake them until their teeth fall out and their knees go weak. Or so I've been told...
Anyway, in 10 days, the fun really starts!
This is not to say that there have not been other sorts of adventures. The kittens are a going concern, even now as the kitten-squirts have subsided (otherwise known in classier circles as diarrhea). So many rules, so few brain cells. I shouldn't be so hard on them. They are very young, only 8 weeks now. They are also unspeakably cute. I took Sheldon with me for a walk down the lane last night. Well, partly down the lane. Let's say he lacks focus. I ended up carrying him much of the way, but he's so small and sweet, it was a pleasure.
I figure at first, I'll have to take them one at a time. Otherwise, they'll just wrestle and tumble in the middle of the lane while I go nuts trying to coax them to follow me. Someone is going to get tossed into the water-filled ditch, I just know it. Probably Sheldon. Sawyer is turning out to be a bit of a bully. There's a fine line between the squealing, whining and complaining that they both do when wrestling and gnawing on each other, and the desperate wailing that happens when brother has a tooth 'n' claw grip on some vital body part and is going for broke. Ouch. The humans in the family all have claw marks and scratches up both arms and legs. One wonders what the babies look like under all that fur...
Mini lost her temper with bunny twice yesterday. There's the growling, brief bit of snarling that says, "Get away from my bum, you perv!" And then there's the out-of-control ferocious snarl that is, in no uncertain terms, a definite effort to solve the irritating bunny problem once and for all. She is always very remorseful afterward. I feel for her. I have, on occasion, had my "little bit of patience" meet up with "a whole lotta crazy" and have had close to the same reaction. But no matter how maddeningly irritating someone is, one cannot grab them by the neck and shake them until their teeth fall out and their knees go weak. Or so I've been told...
Anyway, in 10 days, the fun really starts!
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