This week dear reader, I wanted to write to you about our flock of goats. I wanted to tell you how Heidi comes up to be hand fed, and how the larger goats are playing with the younger Boer goats. It’s heart warming to watch, as they were ruthless playground bullies for the first couple of months. I had plans of photographing them being fed, and telling you how friendly they are.

I wanted to show you some snappy images that prove once and for all that goats like trees

And I wanted you to hear how much my beloved has warmed to our self propelled weed eaters. But every time I sat down and began to write, my mind would amble off in a different direction.

You see dear reader; one of our herd of chickens hasn’t been well. And before you enquire about “Boy Chook” the rooster, he’s still managing to avoid the soup pot. It’s one of the new clutch of chickens that’s been off his tucker. Our new hatchlings from April have grown. We now have a pair of spare roosters… in case “Boy Chook” re-offends, and a pretty white hen.

Size matters in the animal kingdom. And while we all like to think our civilised world means Junior Rooster can eat side by side with the king of the flock… the reality is - that in life, as in the wild… a certain pecking order exists.

Even the hens know and appreciate this. Should Chrissy the sprightly young hen get caught jumping the queue at tucker time, the other hens quickly let her know where she stands. It’s not uncommon to see feathers detached; such is the passion with which a pecking order is defended. This doesn’t stop Chrissy trying. She’s now taken to hanging around the door to the Luxury Donga. As far as I can tell, this is a sign of reasoning and intelligence. This door is the one my wonderful bride regularly teleports herself through… A bubbly and vivacious breasted human, that miraculously appears with bowls of chicken treats… You can see Chrissy pace back and forth trying to work out how to make the miracle happen. And I can see how addictive it’s become. The pay out rate is eerily similar to spending an evening shoving money into a poker machine. Only one in ten godly appearances brings forth a jackpot, but the random nature of it has her transfixed, waiting for the queen of hearts to roll around and bestow good fortune upon her.

Our spare rooster, the little white one, is like the circumspect teenager, never far away… but far enough away to avoid confrontation from the generation he’s eventually going to replace. But our beautiful speckled rooster, the one that sits on my beloveds lap for a neck scratch…

He’s the one that’s grown so fast, he looks like an adolescent boy - with trousers only just past his knees… he’s off his food. It’s a worry dear audient. I’ve been giving him supplements, and sneaking him extra treats. He’s my preferred heir to the throne… You know, the one that “Boy Chook” is unknowingly going to vacate - soon.

I mean, there’s no fun in me being the benevolent dictator, if I can’t pick my own generals… is there?

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