History repeats itself.

After I lost my roo, Roquefort, I wasn't too worried about the hens' safety because I had a back-up - Little Bit.  Also known as Short Pants.  He was my "Free Exotic Chick" from Murray McMurray (I have now gotten smarter and turned down the free chick offer - it's always a cockerel and I'm not impressed with male exotic-ness.  In chickens, that is...).  After lurking in the shadows of the large-but-marshmallowy Roquefort, Short Pants came into his new, elevated position with a vengeance.  The hens were not impressed.  Nor was I.  He did have a nicer, more classic crow than Roqie - who had sort of a tin-can-against-metal-grating crow.  But there lurked something dark and insidious under Shorty's feathery countenance.

He was Ivan the Terror reincarnated.  Ivan the Terror was the meanest rooster this side of the Mississippi and he made my previous life a living hell.  While I try not to paint roosters (or people) with the same paintbrush, there are similarities that cannot be ignored.  Shorty looks to be a Dominique rooster.  Ivan was a Dominique rooster.  I raised Shorty from a chick and lavished attention on him.  Ditto Ivan.  All was peachy until the hormones kicked in.  Ditto all over again.

Luckily, the brother of Roquefort has been residing at DS Melanie's.  He will soon be taking up residence at the Little Lucky.  Shorty?  I have plans for him and they don't include retirement.  His reign will be brief.

It's been a tough year for the poultry on the homestead.  Since last fall, I have lost over six hens and my rooster.  Some loss could be traced to old age - I have some geriatric birds - some to possible heart attack (Betty & Roqie), some to hawk attack (Peanut & Nutty Ameracauna 3), and some are just unknown (Violet).  It's always a tricky business keeping the flock at a number that a) won't eat you out of house and home; and b) will be young enough to lay enough eggs to at least pay for their feed.  I am now faced with the majority being 'up there' in age.  Do I let them dwindle to a smaller, cheaper flock, or do I boost the laying power so that I don't lose the egg customers I've built up.  Dunno.  I do know that I am not going to order a bunch of fancy-pants chicks - the hens that seem to thrive are the homebirds - the mutts.  So, with that in mind, I have been putting aside a few eggs for DS Melanie to incubate.  Who knows?  I may just hatch a Son of Roquefort!  Wouldn't that be nice.

Under the category of making lemonade out of lemons, yesterday morning the tree crew arrived on my road to rape, pillage and plunder clear the trees under and around the power lines.  Apparently, they no longer trim branches.  They cut everything down to the ground.  I was very unhappy to hear this, as they will be clear-cutting 90 percent of the trees along the road that offer some protection from the noise, dust and dirt from the gravel trucks.  Apparently, I have no rights.  What a surprise.  Not.  As I sauntered over, I could see them start the nervous shuffle and start bunching together.  Since there was no reason to give them a piece of my mind, I, instead, asked for all the chipped material and some maple branches for the goats and sheep.  They were so relieved that I was not going to yell at them, that they gave me TWO truck loads of chips and a huge, nicely stacked pile of leafy branches.  Sometimes, you just have to go with the flow.  Next farm, I will be someplace where I either have more rights or am far enough off the beaten track that I can feel justified putting machine guns in turrets and shooting their tires out.  Kidding.  Sort of.