Anchor Struck

I had originally planned for today’s post to be the debut of the seven new chickens Jude

picked up last week when I was in the states.  You no doubt recall the contest of sorts

we had last summer to name the last of our original six chickens.  It was a full-hearted yet

half-assed attempt to keep you interested in the blog.  If you’re not reading this now, I’ll

assume it didn’t work.

There were eight entries: Dang (submitted by Beanie), Ethel (Charlotte), Hudi (Hudi),

Justine (Dan), kate (kris), Maxine (anonymous), Princess Layer (Gordon), and Rosie

(Rosie).  Hudi was pressed into service early after we discovered that our first fatality

had been double named.  I was calling her Houdina and Jude was calling her Sweetie.

Hudi seemed like a reasonable mash-up to honor the deceased hen and hurriedly name

the freshly-unnamed one.

In a shameless act of pandering, I declared all of the remaining entries winners because:

(a) the only prize was my respect, of which I have plenty; (b) the contest was rigged; and

(c) the chickens don’t particularly care what they’re called.

Last night I took photos of the new hens for today’s post, but the gizmo that lets me put

pics on the web has crapped out.  My computer has officially rejected it.  I should have

a new one for Monday’s post.  You’ll meet the new girls then.

The remaining original three — Brenda, Sally and the aforementioned Hudi– have been

less than welcoming to the newcomers.  They are bullying them, truth be known.  Just

today Jude found them keeping the rookies on the roost and away from the nesting boxes.

We have yet to get any eggs from them.  So Jude has isolated B, S and H from the others

to give them a chance to lay.

Now, then: the bear.  Nothing we’ve done keeps it away for very long.  Last night it trashed

another hive, the closest one to the house yet.  We still can’t reach the chap who owns the

hives.  We’d like to get them moved tonight.  We’re getting anxious about it, but we’re being

pro-active.

When we first moved here, Jude and I debated whether or not to put a bathroom in the

attic we were refurbishing.  It came down to cost, and a $100 bedside commode seemed

a lot cheaper than $2500 for plumbing.  For the last two mornings we’ve been emptying

our urine around the hives and the chicken coop to mark our territory.

I really hope that works, because if I’m approached by the bear, I’ll likely piss my pants.