Intelligence

Yesterday morning, Rizzo the chicken managed to evade me. She didn't want to go back into the chicken house after the morning scratch, so she squeezed her deceptively skinny body out of the run. After I'd tried to encourage her back, she used the compost bin and then the potting shelf to get onto the top on the chicken house. I couldn't get her up there.


After the roof, she moved into a tree.

This all took about three minutes. A bird that can't fly and is notoriously dumb figured out if she got up high, the predator (that's me) couldn't reach her.

I came home after dark and couldn't find her. I feared she may have fluttered down into the garden behind us. There be two big dogs there that wouldn't have taken kindly to her intrusion. She may have wandered a little further into the garden of the family I have no doubt would have had her on a spit by lunchtime (I know this from conversations and experience).

Turns out she was next door, she's safe there because the three lazy brothers live there. I'll go and get her when she roosts later.

It maybe nature that send her high and hide when she perceives danger, but I think it's pretty smart she figured out how to get high so quickly while running around clucking. Most animals will avoid danger rather than run headlong into it.


So why is it that humans, supposedly the smartest creatures on earth can't figure out that avoiding agro is better than starting it? That violence begets violence and posters and banners spewing hate messages only affirms what some were already thinking, which in turn leads to more violence.

Live in peace, spread no messages of hate and remember when you're out on your own, you're much more vulnerable and more easily picked off, which no one really wants...

...unless they fancy chicken for dinner.

On the Up?

Things continue to go from bad to worse on the work front.


Personally though, things have remained fairly static with a very slight elevation.

A week ago I got massive laughs during a stand-up set, which I pretty much winged. While much of the material had bee written before I tried loads of new stuff and it worked. Always a good thing. My next gig is at 8pm on 7th September at the Comedy Court on George Street, Sydney, in case you’re interested.

The last weekend was fun and after lots of fun in the garden I feel like I actually want to sort sh*t out on the home front. It’s been a while since I actually wanted to do anything that related to keeping my environment clean and tidy, but despite being exhausted when I get home from my work day, I do a little something that may, in the long run contribute to a cleaner home space.

My veggie patch has started to produce food. Yay! For the next six months I’ll be able to go into the garden and pluck sustenance from the ground. I’m sorry, but there really is no better feeling than eating freshly picked produce. For the last three days I’ve been able to use my home grown greens in my dinner and also eggs laid by the Pink Ladies in omelettes, scrambled and poached.

With the better weather comes more vitamin D which in turn makes you feel better generally, so hopefully, there will be less depression and more happiness in my future.

Now please enjoy this picture of my dinner from last night. Everything is from the garden except the Holumi cheese (and the tiny bit of fresh ground pepper) :-)

Get Clucked

As I lay here recovering from a nasty bout of prawn poisoning I can hear the chickens clucking. I can tell at least one is in the process of laying a egg by the distinctive drawn out sounds.

I've been considering asking my neighbors if they find them to to too noisy.

Then the sound of the barking dogs over the back fence comes to forefront of notice. My senses have managed to develop a drowning out mechanism for the sound of two overweight bull masstives barking at each other and every loose leaf that flutters to the ground.

I think I'll wait until the neighbors come to me

Gold Plated Chooks?

So, due to demand for home grown eggs from work colleagues and friends I decided to add a couple more chickens to the flock on Saturday, making the total six channels on CatTV.

The flock is called CatTV as a collective because, Oren, the cat can spend hours watching them. Whether they are locked up in the coup, or roaming free in the garden, she’ll watch, faux stalk and run away when chased. The last one happens more often that you’d think.

The first four where first purchased on the day Jeff Conaway finally lost his battle with drugs and alcohol, I thought it would be fitting to call them Rizzo, Frenchie, Jan and Sandy. I called the new additions Marty and Channing (having run out of female character names and I didn’t think Waitress was very nice as a name).

Fittingly enough, the Pink Ladies took exception to the new additions and decided to show them who was boss. The pecking order is very fitting as Marty and Channing really have had a stressful few days.

I first noticed the wound on Marty’s foot on Tuesday. It was red and open, not dissimilar to a cut you may get from a nasty scratch. I took her inside and bathed it. I didn’t get a chance to look at the wound on Wednesday, and yesterday I made a point of looking in the morning. Her toe was black.

I went to work, and on the way I made an appointment with the vet. Luckily it was pay day.

When I got home to put up Marty, I notice a small scab on Channing’s cheek, so I put her in the box. Better safe than sorry.

Both birds had a shot of penicillin, Marty had part of her toenail cut away to see if the limb was dead already, but a spot of blood showed that it was possible it may just be saved. Channing had a blood clot on her face. I was informed that production anaimals are pretty hardy and cope with this sort of thing quite well. While it may not be visually pleasing as a pet, we can't just put them down for any old thing. I never intended to have them put down unless they were suffering. I don't allow suffering in my house. I paid the bill...cough, clear throut, we shall speak of this no more...

Fallout, no eggs can be used until the foot is healed. If Marty has septicaemia, then it can be passed into the eggs, and that wouldn’t be a good thing to eat.

I have to keep a close eye on both birds until their check up next Thursday. Puffiness, not eating, sitting and no walking are all bad things

This morning I let the Pink Ladies out in the rain for the day, giving the sickly duo a day in, on their own to potter about the coup, have a bite to eat and generally have a day off. I’ll do the same for the next week. As I was leaving both were eating and moving around.

Wish them improved health and that other leave them alone.