Some days just start out dreadful.
We lost four chooks last night to a fox. Four. Although at least it wasn't all of them, like my friend Darren, who's experience last week was pretty dire.
Adam and I are all no-nonsense and practical and we don't get emotional about farm animals. 'Cept as much as we know this in our heads, we feel sad in our little hearts. Poor defenseless chookies. And I think when you lose animals to a predator, you just want to know you did everything you could to keep them safe; and maybe we didn't. He got in, somehow.
So tonight, the remaining eight are shut up in their nesting room, which is the safest we can make them. And still I'm nervous. What if he gets in there?
And so am thinking about other bits of the day instead. (No point worrying about something you can't control.)
Today was a very wet day.
Good for dressing up your little sister in a feather boa and pretending she's a bird.
Good for a middle of the day movie (The Lion King) complete with popcorn.
Good for hanging out inside, talking to the dogs outside.
A good day to eat a goose egg, soft boiled. (Oh, that orange benchtop. Sigh.)
Lovely on a muffin with tuna and dill and mayonnaise. Tastes just like a delicious enormous chicken egg. Nothing strong or terribly rich, just delicious.
And a good day to celebrate a special birthday! No, my Dad is not turning ten. I didn't actually have seventy-three candles. Awesome work, Dad.
And one more up: up in the air right now, winging her way to Australia, a very very special and much-missed sister, coming to visit.
Now THAT makes it a very good day. In your eye, Mr Fox.