Monthly Archives: June 2014
Freddie, the bantam rooster on the left, has a new companion. Meet Ollie, another little rooster.
Freddie arrived a few days ago, and has been settling in nicely, although he has been a little lonely, and whilst he ventured into the extensive chicken pen, he soon changed his mind and ran away from Stanley, the full-sized rooster. That aside, he has been crowing regularly, scratching around the garden, and chasing Blake, my little black cat, across the garden . . . that’s when Blake hasn’t been sleeping in the sink or on the lawn mower.
Ollie was hatched in the same clutch of eggs as Freddie, although he was a little bit more difficult to catch, hence his late arrival. Since they knew each other, we immediately released him into the garden, and they spent over half an hour running and fighting. They weren’t aggressive fights, but play fights, a sign of two mates reunited. It was great to witness, and brought a smile to my face and joy to my dogs who watched them from their own pen.
Soon Freddie led Ollie to his temporary house, offered him a little of his feed, and they had a rest. Maybe now I can get back to work.
Meet Freddie, the latest addition to my menagerie. He arrived courtesy of a friend who saved him from the chop. He is a bantam rooster, and a lively little devil, with great dancing feet. Hence the name, after Fred Astaire.
I have a flock of chickens comprising of 17 full sized hens and 1 full sized rooster. However, I don’t fancy his chances with the flock, since the full sized rooster, Stanley, doesn’t take kindly to competition. He has been the sole male for 6 six years, and he is very possessive of his girls.
Freddie is diminutive in comparison, about the third of the size of Stanley, and should outrun any trouble. However, once Freddie set eyes upon him, he had no intention of joining the chickens, and would not enter their substantial pen. So for the moment, he is roaming the garden by day and roosting in a small cage at night. It is not a permanent solution, since he is lonely, and tries to claim anything that moves at his own, whether it is my feet, a pigeon, or even the cats. The previous owners considered him aggressive; in actual fact, he is just wanting a lady, and even searched my house looking for her whereabouts.
So, his needs are my command. I am now looking for a couple of bantam hens to keep him company. Soon, or so I am hoping, he will have a broad smile upon his face. Maybe then he will leave us all alone.
Bobby, my gorgeous tomcat is missing. It’s been nearly two weeks now, and all hope of him returning is dwindling more rapidly by the day. It’s a horrid feeling, and something I hoped I would never have to experience again after losing Keats three years ago under the same circumstances.
It’s the absence of news that is the most difficult to deal with. If I had found his dead body by the road, at least I would have some closure. Instead, I have to live each day with a permanent ache in my heart, not knowing if he is alive, injured, or dead. Anyone who has experienced this will know exactly how I feel. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.
It’s very frustrating. Earlier in the year Bobby came home terrified and with puncture wounds around his head and neck. After some contemplation, I decided he had been attacked by a fox. Could this have happened again, but this time with a different outcome? It’s a very real possibility, especially since, I now suspect Keats was predated by one.
It’s a horrid feeling, and whilst part of me wants to move on and accept he is no longer part of my life, a greater part keeps hoping and wishing for his return. I have even considered getting another cat, or possibly two little kittens, which would undoubtedly ease the burden, but I’m not sure it’s something I want to do. I don’t feel strong enough to risk another heartbreak in the future, nor am I sure I want to put their lives at risk. If Bobby doesn’t return, I will be labeling my land a Fox danger zone. Not good news for my little cats.
Still, life goes on. We are told what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. I don’t feel stronger for the hurt I have suffered in the past, and I don’t feel as though losing Bobby will make me stronger in the future. I feel like one of life’s punch bags.
Signing off . . .