A Chicken Tender Comes Home To Poop

So I can now add chicken tender to my resume. I just returned (though the actual returning occurred last night, but ‘just returned’ gives it the sort of out-of-breathlessness that it really doesn’t need, but I digress and it’s only the second sentence) from the land of sketchy internet service and no cell reception. Yes, I was goat herding again, along with horse feeding and cat whispering.

But this time, there were chickens. Three of them. In case you were wondering, all chickens do is eat, poop and lay eggs though I’m not sure of the exact order. These are not free range chickens though they used to be free range but if they ranged free here, they would be coyote food, so they are in a little chicken coop. Of course, by ‘here’ I mean ‘there’ because I didn’t bring the chickens home with me.

The chickens laid their eggs during the day in a straw-filled covered kitty litter box in the coop. In the evening, after herding goats into the barn and feeding horses, I would collect the eggs, scrape chicken poop  and turn the kitty litter box around so the chickens couldn’t get in there during the night because if they did they would poop in it. Apparently, chickens are like cats and people and prefer privacy when pooping.  I can’t say that I blame them.

My hair stylist (though I’m not sure my hair has a style as I just let it do what it does best which is hang) is also a chicken tender. She says she spreads the chicken poop in her garden. I didn’t do that. I just scraped it off the tray that lined the bottom of the coop into the pasture next to the coop. There’s also horse poop and goat poop in the pasture because horses and goats aren’t that picky about where they poop.

Do you know what other animal isn’t picky about where they poop? Frogs! After being gone for a couple of weeks, my front porch had quite a bit of frog poop on it. Yes, those cute little tree frogs are pooping machines and they like to poop on my porch. There’s not frog poop on my porch now because I swept it off before I started writing this.

I don’t know about you, but after dealing with all that poop, I’m a bit pooped but I did want to give you the straight poop on chicken poop.

 

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Observant Goat Didn’t Find Chicken Tender’s Freshness To Be Inappropriate

So I’m back from goat herding and cat sitting though I didn’t sit on any cats. There were also a couple of horses that demanded my attention twice a day or three times really because this year unlike previous years they received the added treat of beet mash with their evening oats and chaff and the beet mash had to be soaked in water for about an hour before doling it out because apparently beet mash is best consumed in a wet state which would be Florida the last few days or weeks. The weather guy said we’ve had about 15 inches of rain since June 1st. That’s probably why the ground is so wet and my backyard sports waterfront property but not water sports because it’s really just a bit of standing water which will be gone after a couple of sunny days.

Some of you may recall that whilst herding goats and sitting with cats, I was to experience life as a chicken tender but not the deep fried kind, but the scatter chicken feed and collect just out of the chicken fresh eggs kind. Sadly, or happily, depending upon how you feel about my getting the chance to be a chicken tender (I remain ambivalent), there were no chickens to tend as they failed to reach full chicken status. Coyotes are suspected in the murder of all the chicks. All that remained were feathers and a bit of blood. Happily, in this case though I was sad for the little chicks, I never had to see the evidence.

My only regret in not being able to list ‘Chicken Tender’ on my resume or curriculum vitae if you want to get all Latin about it, is I didn’t get a chance to sample a fresh out of the chicken egg. I wonder if it tastes different from the ones in the carton from the store. It’s hard to know how fresh those eggs are. Sure, they put an expiration or ‘sell by’ date on them but we have no way of knowing when that sell by date was stamped on the package and I think that would be useful information. Maybe they should have a ‘stamped on’ date as well as the ‘sell by’ date so we would know just how fresh those eggs are.

Of course, the really observant observer would note that not being able to list ‘Chicken Tender’ on my resume was also a regret so not only was ‘only’ inappropriate in the previous paragraph, it was untrue. Of course, the really observant observer would have to be a longtime reader or maybe have just read whatever post it was where I said I was looking forward to being able to list ‘Chicken Tender’ on my resume because not everyone can claim to be a professional Chicken Tender. I could embellish my resume anyway with my Chicken Tender claims because people often embellish their resumes but I tend not to do that.

While I was in the land of NO cellphone reception and intermittent and slow internet access, I celebrated a little blogaversary. The previous sentence is untrue. Not the part about the NO cellphone reception or the intermittent and slow internet access or even the blogaversary part, but the celebration part. I didn’t celebrate. I didn’t realize it had even come until it had already gone. There was no sexual innuendo in the previous sentence though I’m sure some of you were thinking it and apparently so was I or why would I even bring it up?

I did celebrate my birthday yesterday. I turned 29 for the 27th time or 39 for the 17th time or 50 for the 6th time. Yes, I’m thirty twenty-six! It’s how I like to think of it because forty sixteen doesn’t have the same ring to it, probably because it used different words or in this case numbers which happened to be words. You might not think thirty twenty-six is a real number, but that’s because I spelled it out with letters instead of using the Arabic symbols for the numbers. I wonder if Arab phobic people will ever insist we stop using an Arab system of numbers and go back to Roman numerals. I don’t think most people could cope with that.  Not to mention all the calculators would have to be changed. And phones and computers. I have difficulty keeping the ‘L’ and ‘D’ straight not that they are in constant need of straightening but I can never remember which is 50 and which is 500 and that might make a difference in a calculation, though I don’t pretend to be a math wizard which is why I often spell numbers instead of using the symbols. There is some sort of style rule that applies, but I don’t pretend to know that either.

Instead, I celebrated the anniversary of being expelled from a warm safe space into the harsh cruel world by robbing other creatures of their lives. It seemed fitting. Yes, I went scalloping yesterday. We endured a brief downpour in the river on our way out to the gulf, but once out there, the sun appeared and the water was warm and we collected bivalve mollusks. Then we anchored outside the channel near the mouth of the river and separated bivalve mollusk meat from the shells and tossed the shells and guts overboard to be eaten by other sea creatures which may even include other bivalve mollusks. Sea creatures are not picky eaters and sometimes practice cannibalism. And you thought this paragraph’s opening sentence’s use of harsh cruel world might be a bit harsh. Sadly, it was not though it was a bit prophetic and sad. But only for the scallops.

I guess what I’m trying to say and it took almost 1000 words, or M words if you’re feeling all Roman numerally, to say is, I’m back.

This is my best scallop picture ever! And yes, the ever is redundant. There can only be one best. And this was it and it happened on the last day of summer.

This is a picture of a scallop. I didn’t take it yesterday because I didn’t have an underwater camera yesterday but I took this last year when I went scalloping with an underwater camera. There were people there, too, it wasn’t just me and the camera and the scallop.But it’s not a problem that the picture is a year old because scallops still look like this. Evolution isn’t relatively slow, it is extremely slow.

 

 

Big Pile Of Dirt – Day Seven – Chicken Tender Edition

Now those readers who are more chronologically aware may be troubled by the title which is not at all the same as being troubled by Tribbles in that Tribbles care not about time but those who do care about time might be thinking that today is Day Nine in the Big Pile of Dirt saga and not Day Seven and they would be right about that as indeed, today would be the ninth day since the dirt saga began but it is not a day that has or will involve the shoveling of dirt from the big pile of dirt or from anywhere else. The last day that occurred read on >>

Baby Bunny Dragging Cat Wearing Nikes Paused While Pondering

Did you ever wonder what a cat dragged in? It’s a common phrase generally used to described an unsavory person or thing or maybe someone you haven’t seen in while. I no longer wonder. I know about cat dragging and not because a cat has dragged me. It would take a few cats to drag me anywhere including in, and even more or possibly less if I’m high on catnip. Catnip is a crazy trip. Not that I’ve been on a crazy trip lately, though I have been away, and not just from   read on >>

Warped Goats Assisted Earth Girls In Rainy Beer Escapade

I had an interesting day, or at least it was interesting to me. I’ll fill you in on the highlights. I was asked to buy a case of beer for someone who thought I was 38 years old although he didn’t use that strategy to get me to buy the beer. The me looking like I”m 38 came up much earlier in the conversation before the case of beer purchase request was made. Now, I didn’t have to pay for it (the beer, not the compliment). He gave me the money. I just had to go read on >>

I’m a Lonely Goat Herd

Here come the goats!

My first house/petsitting job came about last year when my friends, Jean and Kevin, wanted to take an extended trip out west and needed someone to take care of their two cats, a giant horse and a donkey. I must have done a fairly good job because earlier this year, Jean said that Kevin wanted to take another trip out west and would I be available to watch over the same cats, a different, smaller horse and the same donkey.

A few weeks after agreeing to this arrangement, Jean told me that Kevin had bought a few goats. Goats are foragers and would help keep the property from getting too overgrown. So now I would be responsible for two cats, a horse, a donkey and a herd of goats. I told Jean that I would start practicing the Goat Herd song from The Sound of Music.

Another couple of weeks passed, and Jean said that Kevin had acquired a llama. They had lost a couple of the smaller goats to coyotes. They had been told that the llama would bond with the goats and act as a protector against the coyotes. So now I would be responsible for two cats, a horse, a donkey, ten goats and a llama.

Two weeks before Jean and Kevin were to leave on their trip, I went over to their house for dinner and to review the ins and outs of goat herding. Apparently, the goat-llama bonding had not taken hold, so it would be necessary to get the goats into the barn before dark every day. Jean made it look easy.

As she was showing me the finer points of goat herding, she said, “Oh, we think a couple of the goats may be pregnant.”

“I don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout birthin’ no goat babies,” I replied.

Over dinner, Kevin said that I shouldn’t worry too much if one of the goats gave birth during my watch. He added that his only concern would be the placenta because that would attract coyotes. I was thinking “Yuck! Placentas must fall under hazardous duty pay.”

My first day on the job and all but one of the goats went into the barn. I tried and tried to get Agent 99 into the barn to no avail. The goats don’t have names, but some of them have numbers, or more precisely, tags in their ears with numbers on them. There is a number 426, a 57, a 99 which makes me think of Agent 99 though I haven’t decided which goat should be Maxwell Smart and my favorite goat, number 20. He’s the smallest and since I’m small perhaps that explains my affection for him.

On my second day on the job, two goats wouldn’t go into the barn. Agent 99 and his accomplice. At this rate, by day 10, none of the goats would be in the barn. I sucked at goat herding.

I even tried singing the Goat Herd song. I’m not normally a fan of public singing especially if I’m the one doing the public singing. I only reluctantly join in the aural assault that is Happy Birthday, but I figured goats wouldn’t be overly critical of my singing. In fact, they aren’t critical, but they also don’t come when you sing to them.

Fortunately, since goats are herd animals, they stay close to the barn even when I can’t get them into the barn. So I’m now three weeks into the goat herding gig and I still have ten goats. I count them every night and every morning, and as long as I count ten goats I figure I’m doing just fine. I’m not sure if a couple of goats are pregnant. A couple of them are fatter than the others but they don’t seem to be fatter than when I started. I could Google goat gestation (try saying that fast five times) but I prefer to be surprised,

Actually, I prefer that Jean tell me about a new goat baby after she returns from her trip. Because I don’t want to deal with a goat placenta and we never did discuss hazard pay.

Number 20, my favorite goat