June 17, 2009
I will never forget.
I had no sooner posted photos of all my cute chickies below when some punk animal wiggled its way into the garage and ate all of them.
Well, it spared two. I guess eating 16 chicks is ENOUGH. Either that, or it couldn’t see the two straw-colored chicks in the middle of the night.
Piece of shit animal. Get your own meal. Get a job.
I am praying to Jesus — first to apologize for all the wretched words and swearing that have come and will come from my mouth — but mostly to ask him to smite the animal that did this. You think I am kidding. But I am going to ask God to protect my precious remaining flock and to pulverize whatever animal even thinks of walking onto our property for an easy meal. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this until now.
He smited all those Egyptians. I’m sure he has enough vengeance for His tiniest creatures.
And while he’s at it, why can’t he smite the bunnies who are eating all our beans?
I have never felt this angry in my life. Steph says that it’s pregnancy that has turned me into Rage-A-Tron, but I literally cannot read or concentrate on anything else because I am so angry. It is burning. I screamed out the widow all the way into work.
It’s nearly noon.
I am moments away from putting a Jurassic Park-like electric fence around our whole property and just blowing to bits anything that thinks of coming within a half mile of our place.
What. The fuck?
You take all the precautions you can. But a slip-up of four inches can cost you YOUR ENTIRE FLOCK THAT YOU SPENT $65 ON. WHAT THE FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
It is my fault that our chickens are dead.
My mother should feel a bit like the avian version of Oscar Schindler this morning. Last night she came over to pick out her flock of 10 from an order of 28. We painstakingly choose which chicks would go home to Ashland that night, not knowing the rest were going to be McNuggets in a few hours.
I was pricking with the broken garage door to try to get some light in on our selection of chicks, and the dern thing popped out at the bottom about four inches.
If you give a critter four inches, he will take your flock.
I forgot to put anything in front of the door to cover the gap before I went to bed. This is mostly because I was distracted –looking for the gun and bullets to destroy whatever or whoever was presently trying to eat the meat chickens at the time.
Clever girl, that animal.
Why is it so hard to be a chicken farmer?!
Each time you add another layer of protection, and the goddamn critter shows up to foil you again.
I hate all of God’s creatures right now. Great and Small. U SUX!
In heaven, I bet the raccoons and the feral cats and the skunks and the weasels all leave the chickens alone.
And the eggs flow like honey.
And the brown egg layer combos don’t cost $65.
And you don’t have to wait 1-2 months to receive them.
And then 18 weeks after that for the chickens to lay eggs.
And garage doors are never broken.
Well, at least that critter put that poor Turken out of its misery. That thing looked ridiculous.
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