The Three Rooskerteers

Sorry.. had to say it. Titles! 

Actually I did  a double (or is it triple) take when i saw this shot. I actually thought I only had two roosters who looked exactly the same – Son of Neanderthal Man, and the Son of The Son of Neanderthal Man.  Neanderthal Man had the feathers on his feet so I know he has not risen from the grave but who the hell is this other guy? How did I miss this.  I have three identical roosters.

Maybe I have been blaming a little TOO much on the drink!

Hairy MacLairy wonders how I did not know.

Queenie Wineti is excited for me – on the inside.

Daisy is not even speaking to me. 

She just offered me her profile and pooped in a tidy pile.

“That’s a nice healthy poo, Daisy!” I said, attempting to be cheerful, as you do. Poo is important on a farmy.  A Healthy sweet smelling pile of steaming poo is great!

She said nothing, again.

“She is not speaking to you”, said Queenie. “For obvious reasons.”

“Hmm,” I said. As you do.

Sheila followed me around all afternoon. Not letting me out of her sight. Every time I looked over she was watching me. She lay on her belly resting her head on her paws like a dog and watched me.

“If you do what I think you are going to do then I am digging my way out, under the fence”  she called out to me. “Then I am going to go and roll in the flower gardens!”

“You behave yourself Sheila Marie” I said, “Don’t you go doing anything clever while I am away.”

“Wouldn’t want to show you up” she snorted.

“Smart ass” I said. Pulling my hoses over to the chook house.

“Paddock language” she called after me.

“I am IN  a paddock!”

“Not much of a paddock,” grumbled Charlotte, “it is all stones and rocks under this thin and quite ridiculous cover of grass and weeds.”

“Shut up, Charlotte” said Sheila. “Sometimes you sound like you swallowed a dictionary”

“It was not me who ate that dictionary, that was you, Sheila. You shut up!”

“You wanna come over here and say that, Charl. I could eat you for breakfast..”

“Pork does not eat pork, that is disgusting. Where were you brought up?”

“Same place as you. A Pig Sty.  You are a big fat pig Charl. You are so fat that when you reverse – your bum makes a beeping sound.”

“Miss C whined charlotte. Sheila called me fat. She  called me  the F word. I am not fat I am just chubby. Miss C.”

“Well Charlotte honey, you have been putting on the pies a wee bit lately, you need to share with Sheila. You were slightly mean at dinner time, hogging the food”

“Just because you have your nose out of joint because skinny people have the same baggage allowance as big boned people.”

“Well it, kind of, feels a little unfair.” I told her.

” Like I care. Stop it that tickles. Miss C, Sheila is tickling me with her snouty snout. Ah .. Sheila!”

Sound of little gallopy pig hooves as they run off to dig in the dirt. 

When we were out the other day I was talking to a fellow who reads the blog every day, our discussion turned to the Daily View.  I said no, I was not going to change it to something more interesting because after staring at the same static wintry view, you will feel the sameness of the environment with me.  You will all join me in absolute excitement when the first snow falls (but not on the day I fly out) or, that blasted wreck is towed away, or the little tree is encased in ice, or the big doors are opened, or  the first daffodil,  or a bud appears on the hydrangea in the spring.

“But.” he said, “That will take months.”

“Oh, I know.” I answered.

“She wants everyone to share the tedium,” said John.

Exactly. Then we will all share the real down country joys of spring.

But it is too early to talk of spring. For now I must go and hoist my pump out of the kitchen – back into its wagon, put on my clown pants, then my scarf, then my hattie, then my Carhart farm jacket, then my gumboots and gloves.  Go out  into the cold dark morning and drag the pump to the barn and set it up, then come back to the house and collect the hoses and the pulsater and take them out and set that up, then come back to the house and fill  three buckets with warm water and grab one for milk and take them out to the barn.  That takes two trips. Then come in and collect Camera house. In between I will feed my waking crew of animals.   Then I will milk. I love it though. The mornings are my favourite set of farm chores.  Though it is 17F out there.

Good morning. Have a lovely day. SIX more sleeps!

celi