R.I.P. Alan

Alan the chicken is no more.  we will miss her sweet, trilling voice (not all chickens squawk), and her gentle, friendly and curious manner.  i am dreadfully sorry i could not find the courage to break her neck last night, because it meant she suffered more.

amazingly, she was still with us--just--this morning.  which was the most distressing thing.  i sobbed all the way to work, because i knew there was a lovely, sweet-natured girl lying slowly dying in our front room, and i couldn't be there to do what little i could to ease her passing. 

to all those who offered sympathy and love and hugs in my sadness, my heartfelt thanks.

i'm going to miss you, Alan.  you were a lovely chicken.

XXX

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helpless in the face of a dying chicken

one of our chickens, Alan, is dying.

why i feel the need to blog aout this, i don't know, but there you go. *shrug*  i won't be posting this on Twitter, and am kinda hoping my followers ignore it, but i still feel the need to record it somewhere.  i feel...  i don't actually know how i feel.  there's no grief, there, but there is a sadness.  Alan was always such a lovely girl, and she was always my favourite.  not that there was much interaction  -  i don't relate too deeply with non-mammals, and the girls get a little cross if you handle them too much, anyway.  but i'm fond of her, y'know?  she has a sweet voice, and she's always been the most placid of the two.  you'd be amazed at the difference in presonality you can get between chickens.  and now she's slipping away.  she's in a cardboard box next to the kitchen radiator...

(here she started flapping madly, so i rushed in to see what was the matter, but i think it's that she can feel herself going and is fighting against it.  Eric, the chicken we got at the same time as Alan, did much the same thing just before she died of--we think--a prolase)

she seemed fine yesterday - eating and moving around as normal with Ruby, our other chicken.  but today, when hubby went out to give them their food, she was just sort of lying there on the patio.  she couldn't stand up nor eat and drink.  i suspect that she may have had a stroke, or something like it, as she sort of lolls to one side, as does her comb and her tail.  but i don't really know.  and we couldn't get an appointment with the vet's poultry expert till tomorrow at 7pm.  i suspect it will be too late by then.  i doubt she'll survive until bedtime, quite honestly. 

earlier on, she was sitting in the box droopily, and i tried to get some sustenence into her (a thin, liquidised porridge of oats, corn and honey).  she perked up a little after this - looked a little more alert.  for a time.  but now, she's pretty much unresponsive, and drooling a little, her eyes are closed, and she can't hold her head up.  breathing's shallow, and there's nothing i can do.  i could neck her, i suppose, but though i know the technique in theory (firm hold of neck and legs, pull sharply), i'm somewhat wary of putting it into practice.  she's not in any obvious distress (apart from the occasional mad flappings, that is), and i wouldn't want to get it wrong - for both our sakes.  i really hope she slips away quietly, and i hope she does so soon.

i'm sorry, Alan.

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blogging in the sunshine, and Minotaur

Good afternoon, dear reader!


This is coming to you live from my knackered garden, and the sun is shining, so I can barely see what I am typing. But who cares? I haz warms, and have bared my neck and arms and legs for the first time in what feels like forever. And I just saw a butterfly flutter by... *sigh*

Well, actually, the “live” thing is a bit of a fib, since the wifi signal doesn’t work this far away. ‘coz, y’know – I live in Chatsworth House, innit? XD No, really – I’m typing this into Word then I’m gonna cut and paste.

Ooo! Hang on a mo....*runs to fetch camera*

...

So now I’ve taken some pics and, when I post this, you’ll be able to see the estate in all its dubious glory. I’ll post ‘em at the bottom.

...

Where was I? Oh, right – I’ll get on to the main subject in a moment, but first, I want to share a tiny bliss moment I had yesterday, whilst on the bus to work.

Yes, the bus.

Nonono – there’s nothing wrong with Newbie, she’s looooovely! *sigh* But I have to concentrate when I ride her, coz she’s a sprightly little bugger, and she won’t catch me if I cock up. And yesterday, I was more likely than usual to cock up, since I’d had 3 hours’ sleep, due to .... dun dun duuuuuhhhh!!! The Return Of The Cramps!!! Heh – it’s no biggie, but the buggers always*do* seem to wake me.

Anyway...

So I was on the bus, and I saw something I’ve been waiting to see for what seems like forever. I always wait for it, and it always seems faaar too long in coming. But I saw it. Yesterday. And it filled my heart with bliss and made my eyes fill with tears of gratitude.

I saw the first white dusting of Mayblossom on the hawthorn trees.

It may not seem like a big deal but, to me, it’s the signal that, in the words of The Dooberies, summer’s on it’s way. We have a saying in this part of the world:

Ne’er shed a clout*
‘Till May be out

(*clothing)

Meaning: don’t discard yer woollies ‘till you see the blossom on the Maytree (hawthorn). Even then, it’s not an absolute guide, since the sun’s just gone in, and I’ve had to slip me cardi back on – the breeze is still pretty cold. But I care not. I care not. Because the warms are nearly here, and I miss being able to expose my skin to the bliss of the sun’s rays.

...

In other news, which was, in fact, supposed to be the point of this post (but now seems to pale into insignificance beside the pale beauty of the Mayblossom), my very first effort at writing a novel is now up on the internetz for all and sundry to read. And, having read through it for the final edit, I’m actually rather proud of it.

Oh, who am I kidding? I love it, and am enormously proud of it. It’s called Minotaur, and it’s posted on the Authonomy website.

So, y’know – go have a look. Please. Leave comments if you wish. Honestly, I hope you like it, but I won’t mind if you don’t. I wrote it purely for myself, after all, and one man’s meat is another man’s poison. But I *am* very interested to know what you think...

It will soon be available in print, too – for a given value of soon, as I’m still waiting for the artwork from hubby. But that’s ok – we know how fickle the muse can be don’t we, dear reader?

...

The sun seems to have gone in properly, now, and the clouds are gathering. I wouldn’t be surprised if it rains in a bit. But no matter. I shall go inside, and I shall post pictures, and you can see what a mess our darling chickens have made of our once lush and inviting lawn. The little buggers are eating what’s left of it as I type...

...

view from the back door.  that's hubby's poor dead bike under the cover.  Newbie is just out of shot to the right.

here we have the first view of the garden proper.  to the left is the veg patch - not growing anything this year, but every now and again, we turn the earth over so the chickens can scratch about for delicious treats.

the view to the end of the garden.  as you can see, we no longer have a lawn.  the girls have trampled and scratched and eaten it out of existence.  that's their home, on the right.  built by my clever hubby.

further up the garden is the pond.  sometimes, we get newts.  they are such gorgeous little creatures....

back down the garden, we get another view of the coop, and the girls.  the stone mushroom marks the grave of our first and most beloved rat, Jeremy.

here's where i was writing the post from earlier.  jolly comfy it was, too...  the pillar behind it was also built by hubby, to use as a base for his telescope.

the girls.  that's Alan at the back (named after a character in the delightfully bizarre and much missed series Green Wing).  Ruby (Ruby Murray - chicken curry.  geddit?...) is at the front, looking at me suspiciously, as usual.

and here's me enjoying the rays.  Sunshine Squeaky.

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