Hello World

In the first eighteen months of the new Fortress Mamea, our chicken flock increased a number of times. (We can’t remember how many times; we’re softies with fuzzy memories.)

How could we say no to the girls when they got broody? They were merely heeding the call of nature. And when the fertilised eggs hatched and there were soon cheeping puffballs of fluff underfoot — how could we say no to life itself?

When some of the puffballs grew into ambitious young roosters and started beating up on Ghost Dog, ending the aspirants’ lives was an easy choice. After a couple of culls, I called a moratorium on our chickens having babies. It’s all well and good when everyone’s getting along, I could imagine my mother lecturing me, until it’s time for someone to end up in the pot.

The flock has remained at a steady twenty or so the past eighteen months. It’s required vigilance: collecting eggs every single day, turfing wannabe broodies out of the laying boxes so they don’t get ideas.

Throughout the month of December, I noticed one of our chickens behaving suspiciously. What with the festive season and everything else, her movements were noted but not closely observed.

More fool me:

Pollo and brood. (Photo: DJ Ash.)

Fifteen chicks arrived on New Year’s eve.

Brilliant. Just… brilliant.

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Poultry Deja Vu

Ghost Dog and Friends
Ghost Dog hangin’ with his shorties (circa 2014).

You’ve already been introduced to our resident rooster, Ghost Dog. He does a pretty good job of looking after his girls: he points out food that he finds (whereupon he’s winged aside by his female companions), and now that we’re out in the country, he keeps an eye out for trouble.

There was something familiar about him and his harem that nagged at the back of my brain for some time.

And then I flashed on this:

Kid Creole and the Coconuts, “Tropical Gangsters” (1982) (Pic courtesy www.musicstack.com)

Of course.

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More —

animal pics: this wee fulla I came across whilst doing some research and just had to share.

And now for the usual suspects.

The Dog in Guccione repose.
The Cat after some under-the-house exploring.

We usually refrain from giving the animals’ actual names but our rooster’s handle is just too cool for school:

Ghost Dog, Esq.
Ghost Dog, Esq.

Some proper posting will follow.

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