I’m taking a break from the market today, well not quite the market but the collection of people I seem to be befriending. It peaked last week when I sold some old surveillance equipment to a chap. He starts by explaining his passion with electronics. He explains that ever since he got beat up he has loads of free time so he spends it working on small electronic projects and the like. “Poor fella, wonder what happened him” I think to myself. He goes on to explain that he was beat up by a 38 yr old kick boxer. “Was he trying to steal some money?” I enquire innocently. Not at all, it seems my new buddy was “accused” of shouting profanities over the ditch at Jackie Chans wife so got a pounding for his actions. And then, “from the corrupt justice system” received 12 months in jail. Currently under appeal, my buddy has a foolproof way of getting it thrown out of court. Unknown to the corrupt police and judge, he used to be a policeman and has gone to the ends of the earth to discredit the prosecution. He’s discovered that the “squeaky-clean” superintendent over his case is not so squeaky clean after all…. His uncle committed suicide 50 yrs ago! Armed with this new “shocking” revelation, this man hopes to clear his name. I will be at that court case, Dictaphone in hand!
Unfortunately, my bad luck continued throughout the week. I wake Monday morning (head sore, seems to be a trend of Mondays) I look upon my healthy and thriving shed of poultry, but there’s something amiss? I can’t here my constant squeaking of my beloved little ducklings! There gone!, a hole tunnelled into their enclosure, a dirty fecking rat decided to feast on my ducks, lucky he couldn’t reach my plum tree for sauce! Grieving over my furry little friends I check the rest of my herd. Carnage ensues; there is a turkey, caught in a pallet, a spot of blood on his head! They tried to kidnap (or turkey nap) the poor fecker! And when I lifted him out, I discovered they feasted on the poor turkeys arse as main course to their duckling starter! I go fort to investigate if had they a love for chicken. Everything is alive here. But only just, one of the hens and her younger comrade are obviously shaken. I remove them for investigation but no marks on either. One hen pukes on me as I lift her, nice! I move them to new lodging for the night, make them comfy and warm. And, they die. If I find that rat…
There is also a traitor in my camp! Our little dog, which follows me around daily as I feed my stock decided to get frisky yesterday. I have my young broilers out, walking in the great out doors for the first time, me showing the whole lot off to my curious cousin! He’s complimenting how well there doing and how strong they are till, out of nowhere, under our noses, in runs Patch and grabs one! After a glorious battle I wrestle my young featured friend back and deliver a size ten to the dog. After a quick health check I discover minimal blood and a break in its wing. Not too bad, defiantly survivable! I move him to my trauma ward (which to date, hasn’t had a great success rate) to let him recover his ordeal in piece! 2 hours later, dead as a maggot!
And to top it all off, I come back Thursday after a night away to discover my incubator full of eggs near hatching turned off….
Not a good week for poultry folks…
Stock count now: 17
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