David says I need to post but frankly, my camera is still broken (since I can’t seem to drag my big fat arse to Ritz Camera to see if it can be fixed), and my mind feels dull and uninspired. I’m also supposed to (as of yesterday) submit my quarterly article for the local RVHA Roundup but I have not done that either. Someone please lift this large concrete block off my head.
Snippets: The pullets are becoming hens at last and we have received their first tiny attempts at laying eggs. As a bonus, the ducks have started laying again as well as the days have gotten longer and, more recently, warmer, and we can stop buying eggs at the grocery store. I was about to throw myself over my inner pretend farmer’s cliff spending $4 for a dozen free-range eggs when at one time I was giving them away because we had too many. And ours were better.
Also, I received a nice letter from a fellow duck fancier who kindly informed me that Peeps is a Rouen hen, not a Mallard. This is good as she also informed me that keeping migratory birds is against the law and, as we all know, if we fight the law, the law wins (especially in this administration). By the way, the once shy Magic has assumed his throne as king of the flock and, since I obviously have no problems admitting my many errors and foibles to the world, I have to say I erred and he is not a Cayuga duck as we thought but a chocolate runner. He’s the tallest of the bunch. Maybe that’s why he’s King Drake.
On the fibrous side, I spent a good part of the early afternoon yesterday sizing up (literally) the ewes to see if Bad, Bad Leroy Grey managed to plant his bad seed in any of the girls before solitary confinement. Charlotte is definitely pregnant and, as she gave us twins last year, I expect the same or more from her. Carmela looks big as does Cookie but they both have such thick fleece that it’s hard to tell. Thankfully, the yearlings, as in Leroy’s daughters seem thin and trim, which is good because that would be downright pervy. After Papa Ernie arrives for March shearing, we should know for sure. Here we go again. (But the lambs are very cute and full of blog fodder.)
So now I need your help. I need inspiration, questions, suggestions. Tell this crazy Pretend Farmer what you want to know and as long as it doesn’t get too awful personal, and, knowing me, even if it does, I’ll do my best to answer your inquiries, and, by doing so, rid myself of one huge thought-blocking headache. Thank you; come again.