The Saga Continues. . . .

We've had quite the weekend. We started with six baby chicks and one baby goose. Dan built a fancy brooder to house our precious fowl. Something was amiss in the coop, one of the bigger chicks was being pecked right down to the skin. Dan separated them. But alas at no avail, they continued to peck her and a couple others. I am new at this business so I had no clue these little rascals would turn on each other. Put a bunch of women in a small space and look out. . .there will be some pecking going on. It's hard for me not to be graphic in my description of what transpired. Oh my heck, the large chick that was being picked on was near death on Saturday morning. Dan gently placed her in a shoe box for her to die. Well the day went on and she was still alive in the shoe box in the dumpster. We now call our dumpster. . .the "dumpster of death". Ethan, the soft hearted lad that he is, decided he'd better take matters into his own hands and put the little chick out of it's misery. He got his BB gun and asked me to leave. He didn't want me to witness what was about to happen. I assured him that I could handle it but he insisted that I go in the house. It was hysterical to watch him and his friend, Dixon attempt to put an end to the suffering. They were so cute (tender-hearted) and a bit on the jumpy side. Ethan said it was hard enough for him to do it, that he didn't want me to watch.

We decided (actually Dan decided) that the chicks had their feathers and they could be put outside, the open space would alleviate all the back biting (get it? back biting). That evening as I checked on them one last time, I thought they looked cold as they huddle together in the pasture. The truth is, Dan was tired of cleaning up their messing in the fancy brooder.

To my shock on Sunday morning, Dan informed me that they were all dead. It appeared that a Magpie or pies had gotten to them in the night. Those damn Magpies (excuse my French).

The baby goose, Francesca was alive. She is the intended mate for Frank, the old fart. We put her in the pasture with the other large animals and Chester, the duck has taken her under her wing. Frank, has left Ophelia, the goat and has turn his attention to the two new ducks. The ones we held the contest to name, it's probably prudent that we wait to name them as we see if they live. You put a name to an animal and it becomes personal. What will become of Francesca? Will Frank ever imprint to her? We intended them to mate for life and hatch us some mini Franks. The saga continues on the Balls Ranch. Stay tuned!

Taylor is holding one of the now deceased chicks. It's a tragedy.

P.S. Ethan, Dixon and Luke decided that Cheeks (the pregnant goat) needed a proper burial. Just before dusk they set out to dig a grave back by the dog run. I just had to watch this adventure unfold. They worked as a team, with Ethan spouting out the orders. It grew dark and cold, and I was asked to bring them a flashlight. The hole got deeper and deeper, as they tried to estimate the size of Cheeks. I suggested that they get Cheeks' body out of the Dumpster before it was too dark. They placed gardening gloves on their hands and painting masks on their faces and dove into the Dumpster and the fortunate Ethan stayed on the outside to lift out the goat. Can you tell who's in charge here? The boys wrapped a string around the gathered tarp and Ethan lifted the body out. They all gagged a few times in the process. I laughed to myself as they dragged the tarp to the back. They were three boys on a mission, an important mission. I held the flashlight as they shoveled dirt onto Cheeks as well as the masks and gloves. I didn't want to wear those gloves while gardening. Dixon said a couple of times that tonight was a GREAT NIGHT! ! I cracked up.