Charlie was bad twice today. At least. That’s just counting the two times he barged into the aviary, uninvited.It turns out that having horns is more useful than you might imagine. Twist your head a bit to one side, jam that horn into the gate opening, twist the other way, get that opposite horn in, too, and voila! You’re in the aviary and the scurrying begins! The ducks and hens run for cover as the Farm Manager races Charlie to the chicken feed bin.
Sheep are kind of like dogs and will hoover that food in faster than the good lord intended, resulting in distended bellies or worse. Sheep are kind of like enormous guinea pigs, made for grazing and greens. If you spilled a bag of birdseed into a guinea pig cage, they’d eat it for sure. Bad for them, you betcha. You’d find them belly up and moaning not long after, but sure, they’d eat it. That seems to be the goal of sheep, too: How much grain can we eat before we get a trip to the vet?
What about Hamish? He wants in, too, but he knows he’s not allowed, so he backs down when the Farm Manager gives him the stink-eye. He’s learned that she will abandon Charlie to go back out with him and feed him some saltines. I think she does it to see Charlie panic and run back and forth by the gate. The only thing he loves more than chicken feed is saltines. Watching Hamish receive extra saltines is more than Charlie can bear.
Okay, so Charlie was bad in the morning. You would think that was enough satisfaction for one day, but no. Today the flock had to wait around while Charlie took an impromptu tour around the aviary on his way out to the front yard. As Hamish looked on in disbelief, mind you. The Farm Manager calmly fed the cats and locked them up, because they aren’t allowed out of the aviary and Charlie inconsiderately left the aviary gate open. The Farm Manager was too miffed to give the sheep their afternoon grain, so in retaliation they refused to go to the front yard. In and out the gate, back to the treat bowl area to check on the afternoon grain status, back to the aviary for another tour, it went on forever. I finally escorted the flock to the back yard where we didn’t get our treat either, because bird seed and meandering sheep. By now, everyone was cranky.
After some choice words, slamming gates, and grain bin lid rattling, Charlie ventured near enough to the front yard that the Farm Manager could slam the gate shut behind him. She threw a scant handful of stale corn onto the dirt and retreated. Hamish looked up in disgust, but Charlie went for that old corn like it was chicken feed, which I suppose it kind of is. I don’t think he cares. I bet he’ll do it all again tomorrow.
It was kind of a bad day for the Farm Manager. So when she came out the next morning to feed the cats she was mortified to discover that she had left the cats locked up overnight! Rat patrol is their job, and even though one night off probably isn’t enough to empower the rats, nobody wants to know for sure.
Until next time, Norman