Yet More To Come

I stopped by another Tractor Supply the other day.  You know what's coming next, right?

Oh yes.  I came home with more chicks.

I did have to replace the ones that became kitty snacks.  At least, that's how I'm justifying it.  It all boils down to I just can't resist a lively chick.

Into a little carry box went six healthy Jersey Giants.  I know, it sounds like I've invited the Mafia into my coop.  I need to find out some appropriately Jersey names.  Snooki?  Corlione?  Anybody remember the names of the Real Housewives of New Jersey?  I'll have to put some thought into it and get back to you all.  Right now, they just look like tiny blobs of black & white fuzziness.  Eventually, they will grow up to be large and lovely beauties, as seen in this drawing foisted from McMurray Hatchery:

I love the coal black legs, don't you?  Very sexy.

So far, the newest inmates of the Porch Brooder are doing well and have integrated with the other chicks from the first ill-fated batch.  The cats appear to have taken my threat of turning them into handbags seriously, and have left them alone.  This is nice, because as always life is a constant adventure.

Case in point, I found this little creature wobbling her way down the middle of a country road this morning:

Desperately thin, no muscles or body fat to speak of, hungry as heck and just oozing woefulness.  As I am not made of stone, I popped her in the truck and zipped over to the vet (just to rule out any "I've been run over" issues), and then set her up with some luxury digs in the shed.  (I also dosed her with Frontline and picked ten ticks off her until her patience wore out.  Aggggh.)  My intial reaction on seeing her was horror.  My second reaction was to be pissed off.  Maybe she was left to wander and survive off "the farm".  Maybe not.  Maybe she's somebody's pet who wandered away.  Maybe not.  Maybe, she was off for a cheerful morning jaunt dragging her bony, exhausted self down the road, and I've stolen her away from her home.  Maybe not.  I find I don't really care any which way,and she's here in the Dog Hospital in the Shed for the duration of her recovery.  I am doubtful that anyone will come looking for her, but if they do, I'm going to be quite interested in hearing how she got to be in such a sorry state.  And then I'll deploy any means necessary to keep her from heading back to that condition (including bribery.  It works, as I found when I bought a dog for $50 off a neighbor who was abusing it in front of me.  That, my dears, is a story for another day.)  We've got a date with the vet on Monday, and hopefully she'll have a clean bill of health and just be on an eat-until-you-don't-look-dead prescription.  Keep your fingers crossed, ok?

There is never a dull moment on this farmlette.