The happy place

Now entering vacation.

Will dig up some earth to create a powerful foundation and furthermore use the surplus soil to create terraces of some type for the birds’ shelter. It’s there that they can hang out without fear of foxes on account of a dug down fence and of birds of prey due to the colourful ribbons overhead.

The foundation is for some sort of combined greenhouse and winter garden for the various birds we’ve got, and it’s a means to separate Carrot the turkey from the others but letting them be together still due to clever partitioning.

Michel Jackson so eagerly clawed (for worms) the dug up soil that one of her gloves came off so she had a foot bath before we put a new one on. Presumably from a single date activity with the new rooster Gunnar.

Gunnar who looks like a glam rocker with a rather broad face and a white coat of feathers on his head which looks frizzled over some dark olive coat here and there, and a big dark olive plume on his ass, all a little bit ragged, is quite old. He looks like if birds drank and smoke; he’d do it, and he sounds a little bit broken, like one of those spent squeaky toys after having been punctured by a fang. Or like Meat Loaf past his prime.

Unfortunately for everybody he acts like a real asshole to some of the hens which he pecks and chases off in a most ungentlemanly fashion whenever he spots or if they just come too near, only to call instead for his sweethearts, like Michel Jackson, which he takes on single dates. Blatant favouritism.

Chickaleta he has nothing on though; she has been brooding for like a month and whenever she takes a brief stroll to stretch her legs or bath in the soil it’s always done feistily with a high pitched shriek and one thousand percent attitude so that even the turkeys who are five times her size clear the way for her. She's finally hatched an egg; all of her hard toil finally paid off! It’s a turkey egg but they aren’t that picky and it’s the beautiful turkey Tom Carrot who is the (biological) father. It’s now nesting under one of her wings most of the time, looking like a little angel.

Carrot the turkey, meanwhile, is miserable in his solitude and eagerly anticipates every visit and so we spend hours in mums pergola with him laying there looking content while we read books or drink coffee or whatever. Today my child had micro waved food for dinner and she left it half eaten: first the cat ate the leftover mashed potatoes, Carrot carefully observing without venturing too near, then when she was full he ate what she left, and finally the dog licked the plastic box clean: so a dinner for four.

Anyhow Carrot hasn’t met his child yet and he is in for a surprise when he sees the mother. Hopefully it’ll be soon as now I ain’t got no work taking time off my digging and we already bought a quarter tonne of cement, and we already got gravel. So yeah it’s practically built.