Spring Break: Day 2 (Or Jack the Plucker)

Okay, so I'm a tad late posting about the rest of spring break.  Oh well.  I will continue, undaunted.
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!

The Chicken Conspiracy

This is our rooster.

His name is {something} (suggestions anyone?)

For now I will call him Percy. I've been watching the Scarlet Pimpernel. :)

Our little friend here is in the garage. He shouldn't be here.

He should be here.

More precisely, here. See the mud? That means "chickens belong here."

Instead, he is here.

And here.

And here.

About now is where a time lapse happens. I pick up the above rake and chase the rooster with it, knowing the situation to be hopeless. He will never on his life cross the long snowy yard to the chicken coop. I half-heartedly shoo him along.

Then. . .

He takes a running start and flies.

FLIES.

Across the entire yard in one try.

I gape.

I follow him.

At this point I am wondering if the whole thing of chickens acting dumb is just a conspiracy. A conspiracy to make me work harder.

*End of time lapse*

I walk into the chicken coop and this is the first thing I see.

Ha!

But here he is, innocently eating the food I recently placed on peril of death.

Who knew anything happened? He was here the whole time.

Oh and by the way. . .

Don't leave eggs in freezing temperatures overnight.

They burst out of the shell and freeze there.

It's not a pretty picture.

Just trying to add inspirational advice to your life,

Chicken Boy

Zap

Tada!  It was a skunk again.

Do all of you remember when

One killed the banties, every one?

Back then the war had just begun.

Curious to how we know?

I wasn't very long ago. . .

15 birds lay dead on the ground.

And with our senses so profound

We promptly guessed it was a fox

Who'd broken into our Fort Knox.

The story changed a night ago,

Helping our small confidence grow.

We all stopped to sniff the air

And caught a whiff from Skunk's darriare.

We figure he returned for a feast

And got a zap from the fence, that beast!

Very, Very UNfantastic Mr. Fox Part 2

Guess what??

ANOTHER ferocious animal got in and killed a bunch of chickens again.  This time we think it really was a fox, because he actually ate most of them instead of just killing rampantly like the skunk did.   

Out of our about 62 chickens, he decided to be considerate and only kill 15.

Personally, I think that's a ton.  So. . . . The people of Crabapple Farm are on the warpath again.  Right now we're almost wrapping the chicken coop in electric fence, burying more fence for their run, and shutting every single little hole in the chicken coop at night.

This has obviously not stopped the rabbit, because at the moment he has escaped from his cage AND the chicken coop and is probably off to go "visit" the neighbor's kittens.  UGH!

Stay tuned for "The Knotheads" sometime later this week.

Not so fantastic Mr. Skunk???? Part 2

Well- the tragic end to the story.  

A few minutes after I published the last post. . .

Chestnut shot the skunk.  So much for my feelings of it being cute.  

(Don't worry. . . the skunk is still alive in this picture)

And now the house stinks like none other and most people refuse to even get anywhere near us.  If you want solitude, I guess, kill a skunk.   

Ugh.

Very Unfantastic Mr. SKUNK??? Part 1

Don't worry.  This is in between sessions of General Conference that this happened and that I'm posting this.  :) 

Let's see how this all started. . . Once Upon a Time. . . .

My mom sent me and Chestnut out to see if the now vacant side of the chicken coop (due to the demise of the Banties) would work for a new home for the very quickly growing chicks who are out of space (and getting uglier all the time).  A pretty innocent start to a story, right???

Well- Not so much.  I guess obeying your father and mother had a pretty good effect, because while I was in the chicks side making absolutely SURE that they needed more space (avoiding work at all costs :) ), Chestnut found this:

Obviously NOT a fox.  But the culprit, nonetheless.  We set the trap almost a week ago when the Banties were killed.  And only today was the criminal lets say "arrested."

I think it's kind-of cute, but I had better not say that, because at the moment the family is planning an untimely demise for it any time now.  

And here is Macavity, about to go in by the skunk.  UGGHHH.  I don't want a cat that smells that way.  :( 

Stay tuned for part 2 of the saga Monday. . . .

Very, Very UNfantastic Mr. Fox

Right now I'm feeling A LOT like Bogus, Bunce, and Bean and am beginning to see the other side of the Fantastic Mr. Fox story.  I feel like shooting a particular fox out of it's breeches (and I won't be hitting just the tail.)

Last night we went swimming for a ward mutual activity and came back a long time after dark.  Last week we took down the chicken fence and used it to repair the goat fence, so the chicken pen was exposed.  

This morning Almond Joy went out to do the Banties and every single one of our gorgeous little chickens was lying dead in the yard.  

A fox or some other animal had gotten into the chicken coop and killed every single one.  

Expect Revenge.  Very, very soon.

Every predator comes back to the scene of the crime the night after to see if there's any more. We'll be waiting. . . .

Goodbye Old, Hello New

I am sorry to report the (cough, cough) untimely demise of our old rooster, Barney, due to being just a little too mean to someone. May he rest in peace.  

Now to the fun part.  Last night - the awful night that Barney. . . well.  . . expired- my dad brought up a new rooster and a hen from Utah.  

I'm proud to present Orville, the new king of the roost.

He and his little lady are not quite adjusted yet- they think it is WAY too cold, but I think they'll do well. 

And here is the little lady.  Introducing Brunhilda, the lovely.  You wouldn't believe the difference in size between her and Orville.

Hope this one stays nice and doesn't have to accidentally give up the ghost either. . .