By mid afternoon yesterday the whistle in the lungs of Number Three Plonker had begun to recede. The Gatorade tip went down very well. (Thank you Marla) His favourite is mango. Orange came a close second. He was not interested in his grain so I made a huge pot of vegetable soup and every few hours he woofed down a serving of that. And his milk and eggs of course. Little bits at a time. With 6 drops of oil of oregano twice a day. His lungs are still noisy but a lot better.
The other plonkers looked at their oats and eggs and milk, eyed the gatorade and contemplated pathetic coughs.
Today will be a better day for the farm animals. Yesterday their quality of life went into a chilly pause.
All the chooks are well on the grass. Tima is learning to sit up and beg (I am not kidding, if I had another person I would take a photo for you) and Sheila is trying to convince me that I don’t need to clean out the chook house before putting her and Poppy in there. She will do it, she says.
Today would be a good day she thinks. But it is like a charnel house in there. Feathers everywhere. Horrible. I left it as is in the hope that we might trap the predators who drove us out. But no sign of bastard Mink to date. He is out there though. I know he is. I will start cleaning the chook house out this weekend just as soon as I can get the tractor over the field. Sheila will wait. The chooks are on the grass within sight of the verandah where the dogs sleep at night. So far so good.
Here is my witches cauldron. It has been brought down out of the hay loft at the old farm. We will use it when we clean all the fattening chickens for the freezer. After I give the pot a good clean that is. Here in America this is called a kettle.
It is a wonderful old piece of iron. So much history.
I hope you all have a lovely day.
Today will be better I am sure. Soon it will begin to warm up. I hope so, if only for Number Three’s sake. He needs warmth.
Your friend on the farmy