Things the Internet Doesn't Tell You

 So, I've had a small farm for a few years now, and one thing that I've learned is that most blogs I've read about hobby farms are FULL OF LIES.  At the very least, they skip over the less desirable details that would really be useful to know right off the bat so you can plan for it.  For instance, do you have any idea what your deck looks like when you have free range chickens?  This.  This is what it looks like.

Fun fact, that deck was power washed about a week and a half ago.  But it's fine.

One thing they really don't talk about are hawks, and they way they love to eat your baby chickens.  Vasya the Wonder Pyrenes can protect my flock from most predators, but even she can't stop something that dives out of the sky without warning.  Which is why, when four unexpected babies appeared with a hen yesterday afternoon, we had to catch them and put them in the nursery until they're big enough to stand a chance.  This involved a fishing net, food, some pretty remarkable evasive maneuvers, and me sprinting across the yard carefully holding a day-old baby while an enraged hen chased me.  Three different times.  (I managed to get two at a time during one round.)  But now they are all safe and sound under the grow light, waiting to get their true feathers so they can be moved out to the nurseries we have set up in the coops.  They'll stay there until they're big enough to stand a chance against the hawks.

Congratulating myself on selflessly risking my life to save these defenseless babies (mama chickens are mean, y'all), I was shuffling the variously aged groups of juvenile chickens to make sure everyone had the space, heat, and social interactions they needed, when I witnessed one of my ducks TRYING TO DROWN MY FEMALE IN A KIDDIE POOL!!  He straight up grabbed her by the back of the neck and shoved her head under water.  Full disclosure, I have basically zero experience with ducks.  These were given to me by someone who did not have a Wonder Pyre of their own and had lost almost their entire flock to predators.  I had learned enough to know that three drakes and one hen was a terrible ratio that would lead to all sorts of duck death and destruction when mating season rolls around.  But mating season isn't supposed to start until December, and it's June.  I was supposed to have time, by God.  But these guys apparently didn't read the same information I did and decided to move the timetable up and start the murder early.  Luckily, I have a friend who is thrilled to start her own bachelor flock, so she's going to be taking the boys as soon as she gets her yard set up for them.  Poor Cleo is currently locked in a coop until I can move the boys into their new, female-free home.  I would lock them in the coop, because they're the ones who chose violence, but there's currently a broody hen in there that I don't want them bothering.  

(Cleo, in happier times before her near-death experience)

So my life is currently baby chickens, homicidal ducks, and lots and lots of poop.  Everywhere.  Also tree chickens, because most of my birds think sleeping in a coop is beneath them.  But at least my life is never boring. 😆

I've also just hit 51,000 words in the novel, so things are progressing well.  The murder, magic, mini-dragons, and general all-round chaos are at about the 2/3 mark and hurtling towards the finish line.