There are eggs in my bra.
It's late and I came straight to my office, which is near the chicken coop and didn't stop at home to pick up an egg carton or anything. The best place to keep eggs from getting crushed at the moment is my bra.
So, indeed, there are eggs in my bra.
I had to hurry down here because when I pulled in the driveway there was a large fox headed toward the coop. When he saw me, he ran, but it's only a matter of time before he finds the coop. I'm hoping our security guard finds him first.
Actually, I should clarify. I'm hoping our human security guard finds him first. The kind that comes armed with a shot gun. Now don't go gettin' all animal rights on me. The fox isn't native here. He costs me money. If he stays out of my way, I'll stay out of his. But the security guard? Well, he gets paid to shoot first and ask questions later. I don't really want a fox in my yard. I don't even really like the coyotes in my back yard. And, truly, I hate the fact the wolves are dangerously close to my back yard. I am the top of the food chain. I win. 'Nuff of that soap box.
Anyway, we have another security guard. He's not armed,but he has a temper.
Taloose is a goose.
I had always heard that geese were good watch dogs and after losing my entire flock of chickens last year I decided I'd see for myself. So far, it's paid off. I lost some chickens early on, but once Taloose got big enough to be a threat, haven't lost a one.
Ok, I lost one hen who refused to come in the coop at night. Thought herself tough enough to roost in the bushes outside. Her name was Breakfast. One morning, all I found of her were two tail feathers.
Each morning Taloose goes on patrol. I let him out of the coop and he squawks and makes a ton of noise. Then he loops around the house and ends up at the wading pool I have for him. He checks out the pool and then flies for about 20 feet and then comes back to the pool for his morning bath.
He doesn't bother me, but I've been told that if a stranger goes into the yard he hisses and makes a lot of noise.
I wasn't sure until this weekend if he was actually a he. I had originally purchased two geese, but one was killed last spring. I never have bothered to find my bird book to see if I could tell if I had the male or female. Then, last Saturday morning, I was watching the chickens. (They're kind of fun to watch) and the goose was happily bathing in the pool with the duck. The duck is a cute liitle female mallard named Wallace. (Gromit , the other duck, died of mysterious causes last suumer)
The duck was just minding her own business when all of the sudden Taloose hopped right on top of her, bit the back of her head and mounted her. All the while, holding her head under water. Now I really did try to let nature take its course here, but the poor duck looked like she might drown. So finally, I yelled, "Taloose! knock that off.
I had actually thought he might be a she and that I had lesbian foul, but do you know what that damn bird did?
He hopped off of her, let out this cocky cackle and spread his wings -- ( I swear it looked like he was flexing his biceps) and then turned around and shook his tail at me. Sure enough his very male part was right there just a flappin' in the wind.
Men. They're all the same sometimes.
Poor Wallace just looked bewildered by the whole thing.
The worst part was the rooster, named Chuck, seemed to be inspired so he hopped on a hen.
I have two other roosters, Roast and Beef, but they didn't seem to inclined to join in this little poultry sex fest. For a while there I thought the whole place had gone orgy or something.
I decided at that point, after seeing goose's dong, that it was time to go back to the house and do laundry.
Just too much excitement for this girl.
And that my friends, is life on this farm.