Boy oh boy, you're going to get us in trouble when your parents get home...

So, I went to drop off some eggs at a friend's place in between trying to mow the lawn and the showers that kept stopping me. I knew they wouldn't be home so I went around the back and dropped off the eggs and said hello to their dog Teddy. He loves everyone. The minute Teddy sees you, he loves you no matter who you are or what you look like, he will present you with a ball or a toy duck for you to play with him. 

So, I see him. He sees me and is excited. I'm not sure how he did it but in his rush to grab this mangy duck toy he turns himself in such a way that he smacks his face on some brickwork. Bloody hell! You had to go do that I my watch! Chooks never do that. Undeterred Teddy presents me with the duck. He has knocked a chunk of skin out near his eye. I said to Teddy, who, understands me completely, "Boy oh boy, you're going to get us in trouble when your parents get home." I had inadvertently broken their loveable yet clumsy dog.  Teddy, despite a bloody looking non bleeding gash in his skin just keeps nudging the duck at me with a look of "Forget about them. I'm totally in love you with, now play ball with me."  

What is the point to this story you ask? Maybe it's that dogs are simple creatures who accept things and move on. Maybe it's about the fact that a dog takes every chance at happiness that he can get. Maybe if he'd been a human, he'd be whining at the chunk of missing skin, annoying the crap out of everyone. Maybe we should be more like dogs though possibly less clumsy when excited. I dunno. Maybe dogs are better than humans in their acceptance of others. 

Yes, I did go back and check on him after the first visit. Yes, this meant I had to play another round of throw the duck, then the ball with Teddy. Yes, I rang and left a message with his homeward bound parents about what happened and that I did not deliberately break their clumsy dog.  

 

Yeah, maybe a dogs life is pretty good. No worries, a thick skull and a couple of toy ducks and life is as good as you make it.

Shovelling it...

 

So, I’ve been digging up part of the backyard and laying pavers basically because Laverne, Dulcie and Ursula – my chooks – have a fondness for digging up the area directly where I walk. They’re bad buggers. Anyway, I decided to thwart them and pave the area in question hence the digging. They’ve been scratching around and clucking in derision at this because it’s their backyard and they’re the only ones who like to dig. I have explained to them the too bad, so sad principle and they need to suck it up.  

Back to digging. I am a very good digger. No really. It’s one of my major talents. I inherited it from my mother. She would look at a patch of land, a gleam in her eye, as rapid paver calculations ran through her mind and the next thing I knew I was digging along beside her. I love people who have plans – even mad crazy, back breaking plans where you question your own sanity for jumping aboard their wild scheme. I still have the family shovel. It's a beauty and must be at least 50 years old. Out of my cold, dead hands I say...  

Digging – it’s about stamina – nothing else. I think that’s why I am good at it. I have stamina to burn. And, if you’re ever imprisoned ala The Great Escape and need to dig your way out. Call me. Have shovel will travel.  

 

 

The stodger effect...

Okay, I believe I have worked out why Dulcie, the chook, goes into terribly dark, brooding, evil eyed, sinister moods where she refuses to move and looks at me like I’m scum. It’s the stodger effect.

Ipso facto – three eggs. The small white one is Ursula the chook’s egg. She’s what I call beauty challenged and scared of absolutely everything – but she tries hard and one can’t fault the ratbag chortler that.  The middle one is from Laverne, aka Houdini I-can-escape-anything-so-let-me-run-free-or-else the chook. The last one? The big stodger of an egg that barely fits into the palm of my hand?  That’s Dulcie’s. Yeah, I reckon one small bodied chook may just be a tad cranky after laying such a ginormous egg. She can have her dark moments. I get it.

Blind friendship…

A friend swung by this arvo. I was wearing an old, not totally clean shirt, my hair was messy with my specs twisted up in my hair on my head and the chooks had made a mess on the patio – naturally just after I cleaned up their last mess – and yet my friend took it all in their stride and we sat and chatted about stuff and nothing else mattered. That’s real friendship. Things could be at their messiest or least attractive and a real friend makes you feel comfortable. Blind, unconditional friendship – priceless.

Randomania...

-          Do warthogs ever consider themselves unattractive?

-          Are snails smart?

-          Are oranges, despite their lack of longevity, quite pleased that there is no rhyme for them?

-          Is it just me or is it a waste of time putting on make up before going to the gym? 

-          Awesome has to be the most overrated word at the moment. I think its bollocks.

-          A good word is bollocks.

-          Do chooks swear?

-          Are beetles as cute as they look? Do they have the heart of an assassin cloaked in a cute form?

-          I suggest, in war, we all throw sherbet bombs instead of real bombs, then no one would die and we’d all by happy – fatter – but happier.

-          If your foot is the same size as the inside of your forearm, does that make buying shoes easier?

-          Are pigeons discriminated against by the use of the phrase pigeon-toed? Maybe some aren’t.

-          If all the boys lived over the sea…okay.

-          A kiss is just a kiss? Maybe if you’re a crap kisser.

-          I would not let anyone into the country based on their passport photo.

-          In a pickle? Does that mean we're wet, green and slimy? Really, no thought went into the phrase at all.

-          Time is on our side. Maybe that’s why we weigh more ‘cause we’re carrying time.            

Chookery...

So, a couple of weeks ago I explained that Dulcie, one of my chooks, was going through this black, moody, angst filled period where she was being a total bitch and refusing to do anything but sit in the hen house – probably either composing bleak, chook against man poetry or dire threats against me and all humanity – and she was also pissing off the other two chooks, Laverne, aka Houdini and Ursula, the beauty challenged one, who were trying to live in the same abode and lay eggs. Terrible squabbles ensued and feathers were found everywhere. The mood in the backyard was tense and explosive. Dulcie, for the record, had done the dark, moody shit before and there’s just no reasoning with her when she is all angst filled and pissed off looking, glaring at you with evil eyes. But I'm not about to fall apart due to another's mind games so I left it to her explaining that 'I’m not playing into this shit, sister.' 

But now suddenly, Dulcie has left the chook house and is hanging out with the other two chooks and is laying eggs. Why? I dunno. Who can say what goes on in the mind of any female let alone a feathered one? Do I trust her? Let's just say I'm not about to turn my back on her and become a headline in the Cairns Post..."Chook attacks woman. Police search for suspect last seen headed for KFC muttering 'vengeance will be mine'."   

Serious chook issues…

So, there are some serious chook issues happening at my place. It’s all to do with winter. There is not as much daylight and the chooks are going a bit stir crazy due to how winter is affecting Dulcie.

Dulcie is a chook. She’s also going through a massive manic depressive stage where she is refusing to leave the chook house, that is unless no one is watching her then she will wander out, eat food and scuttle back inside and sit on the lower floor of the chook house and not move. This presents a problem for the other two chooks – Laverne (accomplished escape artist) and Ursula (beauty challenged) in that they have a 89% preference to lay eggs were Dulcie is sitting. 11% of the time they lay them who bloody knows where. So, they wander into the chook house and stare at Dulcie. She stares at them. When nothing happens with the stare-off, they go and attempt to sit on her in an attempt to move her. She doesn’t care for this and mayhem ensues and feathers can be found on the lower level. After a scuffle between three chooks, two who really, really, really want to lay eggs to the point that have their legs crossed, Dulcie stands up and allows them to share the space. Once they’re done, she then sits on the eggs for the rest of the day brooding about man’s inhumanity to chooks.

When I get home, the other two chooks are standing out the front of the chook house waiting for me with a look of ‘she’s at it again’ and I go in and chat to Dulcie. She eyes me like I’m mad and clucks something I believe is ‘piss off.’ I then, pick her up or more often roll her onto her side and take the eggs explaining to her 'this deep, moody shit has to stop' where she then closes her eyes and ignores me. The other two, watching on then follow me around to the patio as if to say ‘we’re the good ones. we’re not like her.’  

It’s all too much some days…

And the chooks shall lead the way....

So, the chooks decided in their infinite wisdom to rip up part of the lawn. I looked at it and thought you little bitches. Women. Pains in the arse. Not me, of course. Anyway, I decided to buy some pavers to pave over the ripped up area and deter more random acts of hormonal chookery. The pavers looked so good that I ripped up another area and extended the paving further. Huh. And the chooks shall lead the way.

Chooks – really bad to the bone contrary buggers or visionaries?  

Male and female bits…

So, last night, when I got home from work, I went outside, into the back yard, to fix up the garden hose with a connecting plastic female bit that I had bought earlier in the day. I figured it would interlock tightly and solve the current spurting uncontrollably problem. It didn’t. The problem was the male. It wouldn’t slot in because…well, I don’t know, it was 6pm at night and I had a sore neck and I was tired and the bloody thing just wouldn’t slide in which it’s supposed to. So I stuffed around with it for 20 minutes, swearing, turning the hose on and off and trying not to trip over the three chooks at my ankles who were watching me. The chooks are fearless. They no longer run away scared, as I, a human being with supposed, superior intelligence, that they should be in awe of, crosses their path with my magnificence. I’m just the chick who feeds and chats to them. We are past awe. But, back to the hose – so I went around to the front of the house as I figured the back garden hose was being recalcitrant and I would nick male and female bits off the front. Fifteen minutes later, the chooks had given up watching me and gone to bed, and I was still trying to slot A into B and starting to think I had gay garden hose bits. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Another ten minutes elapsed and I threw both hoses and assorted bits across the yard and gave up because it was all too hard trying to work out hose intercourse.

In summation, while male bits are handy, they can get you into a lot of trouble.

Is that you Neil?

So, I walked outside at 4:30am this morning to chat to the chooks and leave some leftovers for them. The chooks don’t actually get up until it’s well and truly bright, day light (they’re scared of the dark) and they certainly don’t get out of bed for salad scraps – bananas yes – but not salad. Anyway as I wandered out I looked to my left and I noticed a garden ornament (see pic) had been tossed onto the grass from where it normally sits. It’s not heavy but it’s also not light. I looked around the yard, spotted the broom - aka handy weapon - and went to investigate what was going on. I could hear the rustling of something big arsed in the garden but I could see nothing. This is my theory, Neil the bandicoot is back at my place and he has an aversion to the head and is letting me know this ornament does not fit in with his conceptual design ideas in minimalist landscaping or I have an elephant that hides really, really well.


Would I have used the broom on Neil? No, probably not. He’s sort of like family. As for the elephant? Well, I was thinking of getting a guinea pig and it’s the other extreme to that – and I do enjoy extremes…  

So, I nearly bought a guinea pig…

 ….because I was really restless, for various reasons, so I decided to go for an aimless  drive and wander in and out of various shops and ended up in a pet store and saw some guinea pigs and I thought, “They’d go just swell with the 4 budgies and 3 chooks.” Then, in my mind, I pictured the wholesale chaos that usually occurs on the patio when the chooks and the budgies get together and decided adding a guinea pig to that might possibly be nuts.

But, you never know what I’ll do…

Fancy Nancy…

So, I received an email from someone telling me that she and her book club were reading Prince Vampire and discussing it each week. Huh. Fancy Nancy. It never occurred to me that readers would discuss any book I had written in a group. Why didn’t it? I don’t know. It could be because I generally write what I like, think and believe and if someone takes a punt on my work and spends a couple of bucks to buy it, then that’s good and appreciated. I’ve never thought about groups reading and discussing together the subtext of one of my stories. And while it was nice feedback, crap feedback is also okay to get. What you say? You want to hear bad stuff? Sure. I’m a big girl. I appreciate all different points of view and I don’t expect everyone to love or like what I write. I’d be a pretty damn shallow writer if I couldn’t take negative feedback.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/131719
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-princevampire-600230-139.html

But - even more gobsmacking - one of the chooks laid an egg! Huzzah! 

So, I have sorted out the chook issue...

.... issue where the girls were flying up to land on the top of the 6 foot fence and then strutting their fluffy chook arses back and forward driving the next door neighbour’s dogs wild. The next door neighbor was quite alarmed at their teasing behavior because it was giving her dogs a complex and they’re sensitive souls…apparently. The chooks aren’t sensitive. They’re individuals who do what they like and if a couple of dogs lose their mind in the process? So be it. So I corralled the birds, grabbed each by the legs, hung them upside – they’re surprising comatose when you do that - and clipped one wing on each. They survived the ordeal remarkably well but they still taunt the dogs next door. Now they just run back and forward down along the bottom of the fence line driving the dogs mad on the other side because they run back and forward following their scent until they're dizzy and need to lie down due to an attack of wooziness. I have explained to the girls they’re very naughty doing this but they just smile and nod and pretend to take my words on board.

The issue I have now is they are annoying the hell out of me making a mess hanging out on the patio trash talking with the caged budgies. This has to stop. As advised by a chicken scaring guru, I bought a couple of rubber snakes to scare them – they kick them around – and I bought this reflective tape that’s colour and the sound it makes in the wind is supposed to frighten them. It doesn't  They chew on it. So, I’m going to dramatically increase the dimensions of the Chook Mahal, their home, and confine them inside their own, spacious pleasure dome to wander around and maybe they just may settle down and lay some eggs...but that’s another issue.  

I could...

....happily stay at home and watch Laverne, Dulcie and Ursula, the chooks, all day...

No more than four feet ladies…

So, I have explained to Laverne, Dulcie and Ursula, my three chooks, that it’s best all round – for me and them – that they do not try and jump/fly any higher than 4 feet off the ground. Why? I have 6 foot high fences. Are they likely to fly? Yes. They can if the mood takes them. Solution to this other than talking to them about the negative aspects of going over 4 feet? Clip their wings. I’m opposed to this on philosophical grounds. Clipping wings represents taking away freedom. Neville, one of my budgies, had his wings clipped. The woman did it when I bought him. I was horrified. I had to buy 2 long ladders for the budgie cage for him to get from top to bottom. He’s a great little climber and undoubtedly now has hard, muscular budgie thighs. But clipping chooks wings? I read a lot on the internet  about it at work...er, I mean home...not only the whole chook civil liberties thing but if you clip chooks wings – they can’t escape from snakes or cats as they have no lift at all…and no, I’m not sure they would need personal ladders. Chooks - they're complex creatures.

So, I reckon discussing the 4 feet rule with the girls makes sense. They’re not stupid. They nodded their heads and I swear I heard one of them murmur ‘She’s very smart despite the fact she looks weird.’ Pets and the collaborative approach – try it today.  

Of sex and car washing...

So, I went to a country market at Gordonvale, 20 mins from Cairns city, yesterday and found out about chooks from a young, dedicated chook bloke.  I learnt probably more than I will ever want to know about chook sexing. I do now know that most types of chooks can hang out together – no matter creed or colour – lesson for the mankind there and that they must have a perch to sit on as they like to contemplate their world. Fair enough. That sounds like something I would do. I made a mental note to knock up a perch when I got home. I also know that I bought two golden something or other chooks and a black speckled Hamburg and all will lay in approx two months. I found out they’re very placid creatures – somewhat a paradox to the budgie crew - and that they’re happy to sit in a box in Verity, my car, with the radio on loud and they didn’t blink when I stopped to take Verity through the laser car wash. So far they’re still alive after a night in the new digs. See? I’m not completely useless. 

Attitude…

So, I was terribly busy at work chatting on the phone to the local printer who I have become good mates with. She thinks like me, says what she likes as I do and even has the same name.  Doppelganger…almost. Anyway we were talking about chooks. She has some. I want some. So we wasted work time and discussed the care and maintenance of said chooks. Other than the odd snake to deal with, the worst thing about chooks? They have attitude. Excellent. “They can be absolute bloody terrors,” she said. “Contrary little buggers who do what they want.” Perfect. I refuse to have wimpy pets.