The chickens have taken centre stage recently ~ novelty value & all that~ but the boys are seriously wondering what possessed me to bring these strange, flappy things home? Chile Girl, knowing how much Marlow likes his chook [hot, defeathered, & plentiful] predicted the girls would not last long ~ but they are too big for the boys. Marlow has only looked, shocked & slightly bewildered [he's not too bright] but Kirby seriously considered a hunt until our smallest bird rose on her haunches, stretched forth her neck & extended her wings. The lad thought twice & decided discretion was the better part of valour.
And all this hoo~ha to escape trying to juggle new chooks in the heat & humidity of a Queensland summer ~ but the ramifications have been something else just the same. The boys have not been impressed. For starters there is much ado about nothing constantly emanating from the chook house. For seconds I will open the door & this hurtle of black & barred swarms across their yard clucking & boking & carrying on. To add insult to injury the girls get fed before the boys because I want the girls in & bedded down before I am caught up in evening preparations. The boys are mortified. What was I thinking?
Despite Spring arriving via the calendar our weather has remained cold with the added horror of westerly winds & lots of rain, meaning it is pretty miserable around here & our fire is still burning brightly most days. The girls are cross because they are not getting much free range time. The boys are cross because outside is wet & cold. And I am slowly going slightly cross~eyed. I have one cat who thinks as soon as he's finished his dinner, my lap is his. Unfortunately Kirby is not a cat to curl sedately in a lap & purr. No! He wants to stand on my chest & rub my jaw with his. He wants to grab my shirt in his jaws & knead & drool. He wants to pat my face with his claws. *sigh* Luckily the first warm weather will put an end to his antics before I end up nearly as hairy as he is.
Marlow, however, has decided to be needy. Just as I am ready to drop asleep he stomps up the bed, usually right over the top of me. He is a big, heavy footed cat who purrs as he comes, then scrabbles frantically at my doona until I stick my nose out ~ upon which he happily plonks down beside me, his big wedge head draped over my arm , under my chin & across my chest ~ & yes, he can manage all that with no trouble at all. His big rumbling purr escalates to a crescendo in my ear as I finally drift into sleep. Honestly! Marlow hasn't been that psychotic since his first few weeks when he insisted on crawling up under my chin all the time. It can' just be me ~ but all our animals are complete nut jobs!
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