As I said on Facebook, the ball retrieving instinct is strong with this one.
So is her inclination to drag any clothing belonging to me out from my room OR the dirty clothes basket in the laundry to be displayed on the lounge room rug. Noice… That runner you see behind her? Brought in from outside. Chew toy now, apparently.
After a brief flicker of interest in the camera, she went back to sleep next to her cockatoo. Chasing after tennis balls is hard work.
Spent a pleasant half hour this morning harvesting more mint to dry for my bed-time peppermint tea. My hands smell divine.
Speaking of Facebook, I got put onto a fascinating series called The Returned. It’s french and comes with subtitles, which of course has the added bonus of making you feel intellectual while watching. I scooted through the last 5 episodes last night – went to bed at 12.30. Just had to see what happened.
Also speaking of the undead – remember Bunty the white chicken? She didn’t die. At least not yet. She has been getting better, once she was away from the murderous chickens in the chook tractor. I tried putting her back with them and an Australorp attacked her damaged wing so pointedly that I dragged her back out and put her back in the little coop in the middle of where the big chooks are. But I made a mistake with her last night.
It was going to be a stormy night and I didn’t like to think of her all alone and cold in the little coop, so after the chooks went to bed for the night I snuck down and popped her in with them, while blocking their window so they wouldn’t see her.
Didn’t work. Chooks are vicious creatures. I had to separate her straight away, after I let them out and 2 chooks jumped on top of her, one pecking her so hard on the neck it drew blood. Something’s wrong with her though – she keeps overbalancing and can’t stand upright. I’ve left her there and we’ll see what happens. If she survives this last inspired move of mine I think she’ll just have to live permanently in the little coop on her own. Not a fun life but it’s better than being mercilessly attacked every time you try and socialise with others.
Poor Bunty. She’s so much smaller than the others so she really has no hope. By the end of today we should know if she’s going to be an isolate or fertiliser for an apple tree. Mother Nature is a hard taskmistress.
Thermomix recipe: Chicken, Quinoa and Sweet Potato Salad
Edited to add: went out to the chook run to check on Bunty and ended up holding her up to the water and food containers so she could replenish her strength and make a miraculous recovery. This may be terribly suburban of me, but I figure that if an animal or bird still has interest in eating, then they’re still interested in life. She’s still interested.