As soon as I’m done updating the blog, I’m going to write a strongly worded letter to the good folks who make Superglue. Their product has nothing on what King Julian produces. I figured the bathroom would be an excellent place for him to recuperate after his play date with the eagles, since nothing sticks to linoleum right? OMG. It took me hours to clean that up, and I had several inches of straw down! A paint scraper was involved. It’s a good thing we’re in the middle of renovating our bathroom, or I might be vexed. Seriously, he even managed to poo on the wall. On the WALL! It would have been less work to flap on up to the toilet and use that then it was to hover like a feathered helicopter and open the blast doors, so to speak.
After two days of being woken up by King Julian’s braying, Gene said he was well enough to go back outside. Today was the first time he’s ever met Sean Paul, Marley, and Puff Daddy, but it went well, once all the a$$ kicking was done. Even without most of his feathers, he’s still the biggest rooster on the block. I went to check on them just a little bit ago after I put everyone to bed, and the three other roosters were all sleeping on the floor, while King Julian was kicking it on the roosting bars, surrounded by his girls. It’s good to be the king.
In rabbit news, I’ve been working on trying to bunny-proof the Bunny Ranch. I haven’t gotten very far though, because stapling chicken wire to the ground is hard to do one handed. It’s hard to do two-handed, which is why I think I’ll hand the project off to Gene. The rabbits are getting a little cranky, though; I think they miss being able to hop around downstairs, even if it is all muddy and yucky. I’m going to change Claire’s name to Bitey McFangfang, because every time I reach in their cage she takes a chomp. Apparently it’s not an uncommon situation, since lots of people posted that question on the Internet. To remedy the problem, I’m supposed to slowly put my hand in the cage to feed them, so they don’t perceive my arm as a threat. I’m not sure what about my timidly opening the gate, then shrieking and throwing their food at them when they lunge at me is threatening, but whatever. Clearly the author of that article never had a fifteen pound rabbit hanging off his forearm by its teeth. And the growling doesn’t help. I’m seriously considering having people sign a waiver before they come visit us. (Sure, the bathroom is the second door on the right, don’t startle the rooster though!)