The second day started off overcast and horrendous. We slept in even later than the day before, then stayed inside and read for about an hour (going to the library payed off) :).
Once we felt the inclination to get up, we decided to have a wonderful French Breakfast, and pretend we were there on vacation. It was glorious.
A buttered croissant, toasted in the oven. . .
Wonderful, fresh, thick hot chocolate with lots of cream. . .
And Quaker Oats. So it wasn't 100% French. Who cares?
They all combined nicely into a beautiful breakfast. We all felt like we were being served in Paris :)
Simple pleasures, I guess.
After breakfast we settled down for a long bit of rest and relaxation with our library books as the wind and sleet howled outside. Then, we decided to head off shopping, since Saturday is Corn Nut's 8th birthday. Big day!
We went to Walmart. And ended up buying shirts and pants for Chestnut and I instead. Then we went to DownEast, and from there to Toys R Us, where we got Corn Nut more well-beloved and obsessed over Star Wars Legos. It was good.
Things weren't so good after that, when we got home. You see, as we pulled into the driveway, we saw Jack in the front yard with a chicken in between his paws. He was happily guarding it and chewing on it and we were shocked and horrified and sure it was dead. It was horrible! We got Jack away from the chicken and locked him up in the kennel, then came back through the sleet (now snow) for further inspection. The chieken's entire back was bare of feather's and it's skin was open near it's neck. It was a grim sight. It sat there, huddled on the ground, twitching every so often, completely motionless and unresponsive. We were then sure that it's back was broken.
We sent Chestnut to go get the gun, but when he came back, the chicken was gone. It had moved six or so feet across the yard. Obviously, it wasn't paralyzed, but it continued to twitch. Deciding to give it a chance, we moved it to one side of the chicken coop, shut it off from the other chickens, sprayed it with wound spray, and left it alone, sure it was going to die any minute.
Jack had become Public Enemy Number One for the day. We just couldn't believe that he had actually attacked a chicken. Things looked grim.
Later that night, we found that the chicken wasn't twitching any more and that it was moving around, so we celebrated by getting a blizzard at Dairy Queen, then coming back to watch a "Foyle's War," a british police drama. It was great!
A good, but dramatic day!
1 comment:
I'm distressed that we are such awful farmers we have to SHOOT a chicken instead of casually wringing it's neck or something farmy like that... Luckily the chicken liveth!
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