A Bad Week for Chickens

Last week was a bad week for chickens.  A bloody and rather macabre week.  We lost one older girl to cannibalism and lost one of our babies to a hawk.  The hawk got another of the babies (the Cuckoo Maran, otherwise known affectionately at “The Moron”) on the neck but, despite a rather large wound through which I could see her glands when she swallowed, she seems to be going fine now.

So we now have a scarecrow.  Or a scarehawk, maybe.  It’s made from my wife’s old clothes and, thus, about her height.  I find myself thinking “when did she get home?” every time I catch it in the corner of my eye.  If it works on me, well, hopefully it will work on the hawk, too.  And it has so far.  It also seems to have worked on Turkey.  He spent most of the first day the scarecrow was up trying to seduce it with his lovely displays.  Must have worked, because he slept next to it for the next three days.  Then he cast it aside and came back to sleep on the back deck.

To give you a bit more of the macabre tonight, here is what is on the window in front of my desk:

Pretty girl, this.  Has black and orange striped legs.  Very appropriate to the season.  If I didn’t know better, I would think it one of my wife’s (MANY) Halloween decorations.

I will most likely be “premiering” two new tunes at The Wounded Bookshop tonight.  It’s my favorite venue to see how much of a fool of myself I can make by playing new songs I don’t really know yet.  A good time is always had by all.

~ by rjw on 10/08/2009.