Some days, nothing of note happens here, and so I don’t write. I’m not going to write without something clever to say. Where’s the sport in that?
And then, there are days like today. First, Trixie’s Miracle Egg. It will take me a long time to get tired of that. (And, no, I haven’t yet worked up the courage to open it. I am genuinely concerned something icky and malevolent might lurk there.)
I returned from my errands to do my mid-day coop clean up. It’s morning coop clean up in the warmer weather, but I save it for the warmest part of the day in winter. I see no reason to make any job any more odious than it absolutely has to be.
Part of the daily coop routine is pushing along the food in the feeder. We have a gravity feeder made with PVC that looks like this:
It’s feed by a vertical tube outside the coop that look like this:
My girls don’t eat that much feed, and I fill the tube about once a week, or even less frequently. A couple of times, I have forgotten to return the cap back to the top of the vertical tube after filling. Silly chicken owner.
So, in theory, this feeder should require no further maintenance than the weekly topping up, but that is not the case. In reality, one needs to push the feed along a bit inside the horizontal tube in the coop. Which I was doing today, when I noticed that the feed was finally changing from the organic chicken grower crumbles to the organic turkey grower pellets, which I put in to help 1.0 through their respective molts. It’s been about two weeks since I made that switch, possibly three.
And I’m pushing along the food, noticing the difference between the crumbles and the pellets, when I see/feel something…odd. A chicken turd? Up in the tube? How is that possible?
No, gentle reader, it was a very dead mouse, curled up in a ball, really, most sincerely dead. Now, I have come a long way from the skittish, icked-out city girl I was just two short years ago, and my reaction was a calm withdrawal of the hand, and “Okay. That’s new.”
I, erm, withdrew said dead mouse from the feeder, to find another similar grey lump behind it, moving along with the feed. And I swear to you, on my honour as a blogger, that the little voice in my head that looks for good stories said “Oh, please, let there be one more.” And there was.
Three dead mice. In the feed, dude. I mean, there’s a way to see it that at least they didn’t starve, but there had to be some suffocation and panic there.
Sorry, guys. I don’t mind you; as long as you’re there, I know we don’t have rats. I will do my best to remember to put the cap back from now on…