I live in a mad house. When I returned from work this afternoon, my husband opened the door and announced solemnly, “I’m sorry I’ve got some bad news. Another chicken had died.”
Ben went to the garden this morning and found one new hen had died. Her feathers were scattered around the garden, but there was no signs of injury. Could she have been attacked again?
We’ve lost 3 hens so far. One was possibly killed by our adopted cat; the second one was killed by my neighbour’s dog.
Pets are important in our family. Last week, before going out shopping, I asked my husband if he needed me to buy anything.
“It’d be helpful if you could get some locusts,” he said matter-of-factly while playing on his computer game.
“But, darling, I’m only going to the Co-op just down the road.”
Father and son keep a skink named Georgy and she eats locusts and mice. To keep the skink alive, we keep some locusts in the lounge in a small container on top of the large vivarium measuring 120cm x 60cm x 60cm. Sometimes, the locusts would escape and crawl near me and try to type my post for me. To keep the skink happy, we keep some dead mice in the freezer. When frozen, dead mice looked like squids or prawns. I’ve been cautious tying not to defrost dead mice for my sweet-and-sour prawn.
My husband hinted that the vivarium seems a bit too small for Georgy. When a new, larger vivarium arrives soon, I think it’s only sensible that I move out to give father, son, skink, locusts and dead mice more space.
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- Postcard from Singapore: one DEAD chicken
- Neighbour from hell
- Why did the chicken cross the road?
- “Hens down! More hens down!”
- Eerily quiet today
- Rat, I caught you!
Tragedies of the chickens (benwilliamsworld.wordpress.com)