When my egg production starts slowing down it typically means that there’s a predator afoot scaring my girls. When production is down AND I begin finding cracked eggs in the laying box I know who the culprit is. Pleasantly plump possums probably pilfering and plundering.
As of the day of this writing, I have captured three fat and shiny egg-filled possums so far. The first one ended up killing poor Telsa last year! Knowing Tesla, she spazzed out, flew off her roost and accidentally started a fight to the death with not-too-cute-but-kinda-cute possum.
Here’s the only footage my security camera got before I logged in and accidentally pointed it downward…
Not too long ago I shared my views on the overwhelming assholery of the guinea fowl. The hatred I felt has only intensified since then. And to think I once loved them dearly! And now that they have full flight capabilities, the entire neighborhood is suffering from an onslaught of auditory shittery. Well folks. I’ve made a huge decision. The birds WILL not live to see 2017!
2016 has been a terrible year for me. Politically and emotionally. It all started with the passing of my beloved David Bowie. Of which I’ve shared me thoughts here. Then it’s been a tumultuous and ever-downward shit-storm. And not only for me personally, I think a large portion of the country will agree that 2016 can readily and vigorously go fuck itself. No lube!!
I haven’t had much material to share with you because every time I go into the yard to either get inspiration, simply unwind or work on a project, I just end up getting pissed off at either the damage the fowl have done, or the ear-piercing noise and shrieking that they’re vomiting into my tender ears. So I end up retreating inside to hide away from the unavoidable murder that MUST occur.
This is no good to either of us. I have lost my one true sanctuary in the world, and you have lost my obnoxious lunacy gently mixed with gardening and danger. Well, That ends tomorrow!! Tomorrow, the Great Hunt begins.
They’ve finally hatched!! Tiny fuzzy squishy fluffballs dripping with cuteness. They beckon me from the spare room with itty bitty peeps and fuzzy nuzzles. I resist the urge to chew on them. What’s with that anyways? Why do I always want to chew on adorable little things? Is it just me? Is there some evolutionary advantage to that instinct? *Nomnomnom*
Regardless, now that Bernie and Hen Solo are finally laying eggs and are part of the main flock and Piper is all happy in her new bully-proof coop, I must admit to succumbing to a little bit of the empty nest blues. So I called upon my friend over at East County Zoo. If you live in the Southern California area and are looking for an amazing breeder, look no further than Aaron over at East County Zoo! Every bird I’ve got from him has been happy, healthy and shiny! Just look at these cuties!!!