Spring has finally sprung here in Texas. A late frost turned most the the budding greenery into dormant brownery. This week the second attempt at buds finally got going.
Now the pasture is a riot of growth. And my birds can have none of it.
True, Mr. Big has turned his fancy to thoughts of love, or at least the physical manifestation thereof. The current egg fertility rate is evidence of his diligence.
But the rest of the wildlife has been fecund as well.
Yesterday a copperhead snake fussed at me. A few blunt remarks persuaded the snake to relax and hang loose.
The worst has been the hawks. They are everywhere. You can hear them all the time. And you can see them flying low, searching. They are so numerous that even the crows are intimidated.
So the chickens remain incarcerated in their fully enclosed pen. Except for Mr. Big, they are bored and frustrated.
Luckily for them, the sudden growth has included weeds. I pulled some out and delivered them to the pen. Oh the chickeny joy! They dove in with single-minded ferocity. They scratched and pecked a little and clucked and pecked a little more.
Guess I have another farm chore.