The Wild One gets out
Diary of a chook ownin’ man
March 4:
Yesterday The Wild One, a chook with white tail feathers and attitude, scaled the perimeter wire, braved the booby traps and ate every last one of my much loved, much anticipated, baby rocket plants.
Man. When I saw her in there digging away at my plants, the stupid little dinosaur, I wanted to wring her neck. The Gardener was sooooo angry. A killing field of dug up, mauled and mostly eaten rocket can do that to you.
Gardening can bring a bloke to abandon all aspirations to peace, non-violence and zen.
Whether it’s feral chooks, grubs, white hard-to-see spiders that eat a toiling boy’s fragrant mint, snails that show no respect (or style) for my proud green basil and spinach … there’s no shortage of barbarians intent on despoiling my little crops; it’s a war zone sometimes.
The Chook Lover (you know who you are) said The Wild One only acted in self defence against poor feeding by The Gardener. That is to say, The Wild One had gone one day without special treats of corn or weeds, spinach and such – hadn’t had her greens to which she is fully entitled under the Bill of Chook Rights.
Anyway, back to getting some more rocket going.
