This here is George the chicken: (Not to be confused with George the dog.) George went broody some time ago, so we put her in the coop on a few eggs, and she sat on her eggs and sat on them, and glared angrily at anyone who got too close. Two of her eggs hatched, … Continue reading “5/27/09”

This here is George the chicken:


(Not to be confused with George the dog.)

George went broody some time ago, so we put her in the coop on a few eggs, and she sat on her eggs and sat on them, and glared angrily at anyone who got too close. Two of her eggs hatched, and we were all “Woo! Go, George, you wonderful Momma, you!”

Then one of George’s babies wandered into the nest box of another Momma who was not her own, and that Momma responded by pecking George’s baby to death. So George was left with one little yellow baby, and she seemed to take her mothering duties to heart. If anyone so much as looked sideways at her baby, George would rush at them, all a-squawk, and peck at them, and send them running.

Then George’s baby got older, as happens, and he started exploring the world a little more, and didn’t spend all his time right underneath George. Sometimes we’d see him wandering outside the fenceline, but he always went back into the Maternity yard after a little time exploring.

Saturday night, George was being particularly obnoxious. At bedtime (bedtime for the chickens, that is, not bedtime for the humans. We stay up a whole hour later than the chickens, thank you very much), George stood in the doorway to the coop and made annoying honking noises, which scared the other chickens and it was hard to convince them that it was time to go into the coop.

Finally we got them all herded inside and Fred went inside to turn the light off, and he looked around at the chickens, and he realized that George’s baby was nowhere to be seen. He poked underneath all the other Mommas, who looked askance at his forwardness, and sent me outside to make sure Baby George wasn’t under the coop. No baby under the coop, no baby chicken making the distinct “I AM SKEERED OH PLEASE HELP ME” sound. We checked in the smallest coop to be sure Baby George hadn’t wandered into their yard and gotten shooed into the coop with the eight who go in that coop. No baby.

We decided that what had happened is that Baby George had wandered out of the chicken yard at just the wrong time, and a cat had come along and scooped him up, and that was all she wrote.

“I hope George didn’t witness her baby being eaten by a cat,” I fretted.

“I hope she did, so she has closure,” Fred rebutted.

We stood and dithered about what to do, and finally decided that we’d put George in the big coop so that she wouldn’t have to spend her time in her nest box sadly missing her baby. While I went inside to get ready for bed, Fred took her out to the big coop and put her on the roost, and there were no problems, George settled right in.

Fred came inside and climbed into bed to wait for me (it always takes me twice as long to get ready for bed. Is that fair, I ask you?).

“Did she say ‘NOT WITHOUT MY DAUGHTER!!!’?” I asked.

Fred laughed. “No, she settled right in.”

“Did she say ‘A dingo got my bay-bee?’?” I asked in what I thought was a pretty good Australian accent.

Fred laughed “Have you been up here thinking those up?”

“No,” I said. “They just came to me!” (Total lie. I practiced my Australian accent while I was brushing my teeth.)

The next morning, Fred told me to check my email. I did, to find a picture of George… and her baby.

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“What happened???” I said excitedly.

“I don’t know – the baby was there all of a sudden! All the Mommas had their babies gathered around them, and I saw a yellow chick all by itself, so I went out and got George and brought her back to the maternity yard, and the baby ran over to her, and George didn’t peck at it!”

I’d like to say that the reunited mother and child had a Hollywood moment and spent all day telling each other that they LOVED each other and would NEVER leave each others’ side again, except that George pretty much ignored the baby all day (though I did see her cluck at him to show him a piece of corn), and at bedtime George was up on a roost, and the baby was on a roost as far from her as he could get, and well – we decided that George had pretty much cut the apron strings and was ready to let that baby finish raising his own damn self.

So we moved George back out to the big coop, and George’s baby could not possibly care less, he’s staying up late and making prank phone calls and eyeballing the girl baby chickens, and I think he’s going to be nothing but trouble.

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We have new babies!!!


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The names, in case you’re not a TV watcher, or at least not a watcher of this particular show, come from characters on The Office. Obviously Michael, Pam and Jim have been used in the past, or we would have used those names!

These guys are very, very sweet. They’re about seven weeks old and were bottle raised. When you walk into the kitten room, they climb into your lap. Phyllis doesn’t particularly care to be picked up, but if you start petting her she’ll flop over onto her back and play-kick at your hand. She’s got an instant-on purr, too.

You can’t tell from these pictures, but Phyllis only has the tiniest nub of a tail (I’ll obviously try to get better pictures – she was super sleepy when I was snapping pictures last night). Dwight has a longer tail – it’s a few inches long – and Creed’s tail is normal length, with a dab of white on the end.

These guys won’t be around as long as the previous bunch – they’ll likely be ready for spaying and neutering within a couple of weeks. I think Creed is actually big enough now, but the other two aren’t, so Creed can wait for them to catch up with him.

Aren’t they sweet?

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Sugarbutt was licking at his toe ’til it bled (an issue we had this time last year, so I’m thinking it’s a seasonal issue), so we slapped the BiteNot collar on him for a few days (he can’t reach his toes to lick them with the collar on) and he hated us at first, then he got used to the collar, and then his toe got better so we took the collar off. You’ve never seen such a happy cat as Sugarbutt when we took the collar off, let me tell you. His butt’s been on fire ever since!

Now Miz Poo is wearing the collar in an attempt to break her of the overgrooming problem. ::sigh:: Why is it always my favorites who have the issues*?

*Trick question! I love all my cats equally!

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2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: I have renewed faith in my fellow man.
2004: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: The man is full of compliments, ain’t he?