I just finished a paper. It was an informational piece about factory farming and the varying viewpoints about the controversial topic. Now I’m starting to write my next paper. I planned on writing about sustainable agriculture and how we really should all be living as nature intended.
Then I woke up this morning.
I had big plans to head down to Sheep Street to help in the sheep shearing. Thought maybe I would learn a thing or two from the pros and maybe Blanche wouldn’t freak out the next time I try to shear her. But my plans changed in a hurry.
You see, Sweet Pea, one of Old One-Eyed Calico Jack’s lady friends, has been sitting on a clutch of eggs. The first to hatch did so last night as I was heading out to class. At some point the tiny hatchling somehow fell out of the nest box and was just lying there getting cold. The engineer rightfully assumed it couldn’t get back in the box and helped it, sticking it back under Sweet Pea.
This morning I found the little thing still inside the box, but not under its mother. Then as I looked closer I realized it was bleeding. She had pecked its head so hard it was pretty seriously injured.
I snatched it up, easily. Sweet Pea’s sister, Precious, would have grabbed my arm and twirled me around a few times before sending me sailing across the room had I tried that with her babies, but Sweet Pea actually seemed like she wanted me to get rid of it.
By the time I rounded up all the necessary gear to keep it warm and safe I realized I wasn’t going anywhere today. I wasn’t sure if it was just an accident or if maybe there was something wrong with the baby and that’s why she was trying to kill it, but clearly I needed to stick around for awhile to figure out if it would live.
Not long after that I found another baby outside of the box lying on the floor. Once again, Sweet Pea acted like she didn’t want anything to do with it. If they are not kept warm, they’ll die. So in the make-shift brooder it went. At this point I started to realize Sweet Pea was more concerned with her eggs and sitting on them than the babies. Apparently she has the instinct to go broody, but didn’t really understand why the heck she was doing it.
It wasn’t long before hatchling number three joined its clutch mates. Clearly she was tossing them out to “protect her eggs”.
She’s freaking nuts.
So, I had planned to go to quilt guild tonight, I was really looking forward to it. But instead I’m on homicidal chicken momma watch. There’s another baby under her now, I can hear it. And about twelve more eggs.
I’m just sure this is not what Mother Nature intended.
The slant of my next paper may have to change.