All the brief sunshine breaks we’ve been having this week are more than enough to make the goats go absolutely nuts with the spring crazies. When I came home today, I saw them romping all over the tire toys, chasing each other and jumping straight up in the air. Then I noticed they’d also managed to knock over a water bucket and their hay feeder. Daisy has made friends with everyone, particularly Shy, and the two of them spend most evenings cuddling and watching the rain fall from underneath their porch. Daisy has also proven herself to be an enormous treat hog; she can ram her herd buddies away from the trough like you wouldn’t believe. It looks she’s bowling for goats and celebrating her strikes. She can even send Ursula flying, who’s built like a fierce little bulldog. I let her get away with a lot since she’s pregnant and needs treats for two, but after having the baby she’s going to need to learn some manners.
Speaking of manners and not having any, my continuing power struggle with Sean Paul has amped up. Unfortunately, so far he’s proving he wears the pants in our relationship. Maybe he feels the need to assert himself in front of his son, Rutger, now that Rutger has started trying to amass a harem of his own. Whatever the reason, I find myself having to actively hide behind King Julian. That’s the only time Sean Paul won’t try to climb up my legs the instant my back is turned. He’s sneaky, too. He’ll try to slink up behind me with his best, “I’m not doing anything suspicious, nope, not at all” look, and I’ll whip around in time to find him crouched down preparing to launch. I’ve completely gotten over the embarrassment of finding myself engaged in long conversations with him, because he cocks his head to the side like he’s actually listening to me. Or calculating his trajectory, one of the two. Usually I tell him that I’m going to start playing my favorite game called Boot Da Rooster. Most of our chats end with me walking backwards at a frantic pace, trying to spot where King Julian is so that he can partake in his favorite game of Knock Sean Paul Outta the Air.
I’m hoping that we get all hens out of our latest crop of chicks. I don’t think I can deal with any more roosters. So far all the Broody Mamas are doing great raising chicks in their respective lairs, although I think the greenhouse Broody Mama has it best. Parking her cubby in the greenhouse was the best I could do on short notice, since the garage broody and the coop broody are really aggressive. The hen in the greenhouse is pretty passive, and I didn’t want any of the other chickens to kill her chick, thus the tropical environment she currently finds herself in. I’m going to have to serve the garage broody with her eviction papers at the end of the month, since she’s been in there for a long time. And because I found out you can reserve chicks the last time I went to Wilco. Naturally my name pops up all over their inventory lists now. I’m particularly excited because they’re getting in Frizzles! I’ve been looking for frizzled chickens for about three years, so I can’t wait. The name refers to the fact that their feathers are corkscrewed instead of straight, so it basically looks like they pecked at a power outlet. It’s not a breed, it’s a genetic mutation, so any type of chicken can be frizzled. Think of the photo ops!