Friday, May 18, 2018

The Tour Of Coop And Garden

Went out this morning, a little afraid of what I'd find in the chicken coop. Last night Mr. Moon held Mick and I swabbed him good with the goop I'd made of comfrey ointment, antibiotic cream, and golden seal. He did not fight us or struggle and we set him gently up in the roost. He had not been able to fly up on his own. His ladies were agitated. They know when something is very wrong. Death upsets them. Injuries do too. And of course, they had been threatened.
But this morning I found him in the coop, walking very, very slowly but eating and moving about a little bit. I thought I'd just let him hang out in the coop all day with the babies but when his hens started clucking for him, he wanted to join them and so I let him. It would be harder on him, I think, to know that his girls were untended than it was to let him roam with them the best he could.

And I've stayed here all day, keeping an eye on things. I sat on the porch this morning with the rain falling down and watched a few videos of the Stones' concert in Dublin yesterday. Ah, the old boys. I seriously do not think they will quit until one of them falls dead onstage and if it's Keith, I bet he'll have a smile on his face.
Of course that won't happen for another forty years or so.
Mick's face is ravaged, as all of their faces are except for Charlie Watts who rarely changes expression and who has lived a tamer life than the rest, I believe, but Mick has the body of a fourteen year old. That little tushy is a thing of wonder and his ability to still dance and strut and sing and run and skip is truly unbelievable. I mean, he's a great grandfather. He'll be 75 in July.
So that was a pleasant morning and I determined that I would be consciously lazy today but then it quit raining and something clicked inside of me and I started laundry and hung out sheets and then got in the garden and harvested carrots and did some weeding.

I brought all of the carrots in and scrubbed them gently. Can you see the boy carrot there? 

It was hot and it was steamy but I got back outside and pulled the shallots and the onions and oh, god. I have so many shallots. 

What am I going to do with all of those shallots? 
I have no idea. But there they are, resting on the porch to dry and cure along with some onions. 

And then I went BACK out and picked green beans and a few of the last remaining sugar snap peas. 

Maurice is unimpressed, as always. 

And that's been my day, this day which has seen yet another tragedy involving school children and guns. 
You know what? "Tragedy" does not begin to be the right word for these horrific occurrences. And to be honest with you, I feel completely hopeless. 
To the point where I have nothing to say. 
My words are as useless as hopes and prayers. 

And so I'm going to cook some grouper tonight and some of the vegetables I pulled from the earth today and I'm going to put that salve on my rooster's butt tonight and make sure that all of the chickens are as safe as they can be. I am going to sleep on my clean sheets with my husband and tomorrow night August is going to stay with us. 
What else can I do? 

I'd say Happy Friday but, hey. You know. 

Peace, y'all. 

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. The Stones... ah yes, Amazing and one forgets how old they really now are since their performances are still so energetic! I saw James Brown perform shortly before his death, his young backup dancers could hardly keep up with his moves, he was in his 70's too and dancing in high heel Cowboy Boots, giving the same jaw dropping performance as I'd seen him give in the 1960's! I've learned so much about Chickens from your Blog, I hope your Rooster heals quickly... your Garden bounty is a thing of envy!

    1. And look at Bruce Springsteen! He plays for hours and is constantly moving! Where do these people get their energy?
      As to the chickens- I don't really know much but it's fun to learn from them. They sort of teach me as we go.

  2. Thanks for the update on Mick. I'm glad you found him moving about this morning. What a brave guy he is, he has quite a story to tell now.

  3. I was going to say that I thought that all carrots were boys but then I took a closer look and saw what you meant. I won’t mention my take on zucchini or cucumbers. We will see if I am stoned enough to publish this comment. Sober Birdie doesn’t speak of such things.

    A have to scroll by all the shootings now. My heart and soul have an ugly callous.

    Has Maurice ever been impressed?

    And do you know what? The word Maurice now shows up when I type.

    1. Birdie should get stoned more often! She is funny! And hey- half the population have penises. It's okay to talk about them. That's my opinion anyway.
      Maurice never has been impressed, now that I think about it. Nope. The best you can get from her is the most tacit and subtle agreement.

  4. Does your county or city have animal control? That dog needs to be put down. Once they start killing chickens they don't stop. It just hurts my heart that Mick was mauled.
    Also sorry about the chafing. I know you need pockets, but do you think maybe the bulk of the cargo shorts is contributing to the rubbing? I use a fanny pack, it's dorky but is good for hauling necessary items. Wear a long shirt that covers your butt and strut that spandex!

    1. You made a good point about the cargo pants. I'll see how the spandex things work under them. I just don't know that I can deal with a fanny pack.
      I think our county has animal control but I hate to start that sort of neighbor feud. We don't have that many neighbors and in an emergency, we are all important to each other.
      It's so hard to figure out the right thing to do.

  5. So glad to know Mick is healing...You are so right about Keith and the Stones. As for another shooting, it is beyond horrific and nothing will change...I have Maurice's male equivalent. He is very sweet. From the photo, it looks as if Maurice at least trusts you enough to want to be nearby which is a good thing.

    1. Maurice does like to be around. Almost every time I go out to work in the garden she shows up, pretending to be interested in stalking something invisible to me between the plants. And she hangs out by me on the porch and in the house a lot. AND she goes and sits in my husband's lap at night when he's relaxing in his chair. Of course, if he moves to even reach for something she gets mad and jumps off his lap. She's an odd one. But I love her.

  6. Mick looks pretty good, all things considered. Roosters are tough. I'm optimistic.

    The Stones truly are amazing. Here we are, with two of the Beatles already dead (albeit one unnaturally) and the Stones are still rocking away.

    As for the school shooting, it's terrible how numb I feel about it. Another day, another shooting. How does our country allow this to continue? The forces that prevent change on this issue are the closest thing to true evil I can think of.

    1. The Stones are as tough as a rooster, I would say. Which is fitting.
      I had that same thought about the Beatles and the Stones when they went on tour about twelve years ago. Or more. And it seemed astounding then. Even more so now.
      You are right about the evil.

  7. I'm glad Mick is back to work. I am hopeful that one day Americans will understand how dangerous guns are. People always say that guns don't kill people, people kill people, which technically is true. But shooting someone from a distance is much easier than sliding a knife into their skin and feeling it slice through tissue or hit bone. Guns are clinical and cold, knives or fists are personal and require interaction. I don't know if I'm being clear here. Guns make it easier to kill someone without getting personal or dirty or thinking about the person you're killing as a human being, just like yourself. People will always kill people it seems but guns make it much easier. Taking a life should not be easy.

    1. Oh, I understand your point about guns perfectly and you are exactly right. If you're going to stab someone to death, or bludgeon them, you have to get real close and it takes physical effort. Guns make it impersonal and effortless which is a perfect fit for a sociopath.

  8. Mary I just about cried when I read your comments about Mik yesterday. "Oh Snap," is what Google search engine will reply when I request something it can't find. I say fuck that, oh fuck is much better expression at this point.
    We had a couple of raids that killed chickens and wounded others and mom had some kind of stuff that was as black as tar and a lot like heavy paste. I have no idea what it was but we would paste that on the injured birds and it worked very well. It kept them from getting infected and kept dirt out of the wounds. The girls didn't seem to mind it as I recall.
    I'm rooting for 100% recovery!

    1. Fuck is the best word in my opinion, in so many instances. And to people who do not agree, I say, "Fuck them."
      Was it Ichthyol that your mother used? I bet it was.
      I have had amazing results when using golden seal on many different wounds for both humans and animals. I think it is a miracle drug.


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