Death from Above - Part Deux

It's been a cold and uneventful week up here on Cardinal Ridge. I am all for uneventful weeks, it gives one time to notice the things you normally are too busy to appreciate. This week I appreciated the way dense fog glows orange during sunrise on my way to work and rose pink sunsets over the Blue Ridge on crisp winter evenings on my way home. I appreciated the way a full moon's light fills a cloudless night sky and I enjoyed my first bubble bath in quite some time. The wife and I watched a few movies that made us laugh, made a roaring fire every night and we ate our Saturday breakfast at Donna's cafe where I finished her livermush.


foggy sunrise

It was a good week spoiled only by returning home from grocery shopping to find a peregrine falcon tearing one of my hens to shreds in the garage. That and Clyde ripping open the couch like a transplant surgeon and then transplanting the foam stuffing to both the floor and his stomach. In between mouthfuls of cushion, he also decided to pee on the sofa for good measure. It reminded me of that skit on the Dave Chapelle show where Rick James stretches out on Eddie Murphy's new white couch with filthy boots on and proceeds to grind them all over the upholstery. Always nice to come home to a little destruction on a Thursday evening.

I tried to punish Clyde by holding his face in the stuffing and telling him not to do it again, but when God was distributing the ability to recognize actions and their consequences; Blue Heelers were probably eating his couch. We tried dousing the sofa with a bitter cherry spray that is supposed to deter this type of behavior but apparently it makes the cushions taste like cherry pie because there wasn't much left of the upper lefthand side of the couch when we got home that day. Other helpful internet suggestions have included wrapping the couch in barbed wire or getting another dog to distract the destructive dog. Since we already have Otto here to police Clyde, we figure the German Shepherd is just getting back at us for bringing Clyde home in the first place. I can see him sitting silently, smugly, staring at Clyde destroying the couch and thinking to himself, "I told the humans it was a bad idea to get another dog, but they did not listen to Otto." We are still trying to decide whether locking Clyde in the basement while we are at work or reupholstering the couch with Kevlar would be more effective at this point.

There isn't much I can do about the Peregrine falcon problem given that they are an endangered species. Without leaves on the trees to afford the chickens any cover from their laser guided talons and lacking any sort of roof over their outdoor run; the ladies have been back under coop arrest most of the week. On Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays; we leave Clyde out with the birds and he patrols the perimeter by running in circles and barking maniacally. I'm not sure how effective this is at stopping falcons but we haven't lost any more chickens in the last few days to foxes or raccoons. It's been interesting for me to see the difference in egg production when the girls get out of the coop to free range versus being shut indoors. I usually get about 6 eggs per day during the week and 10-11 on the weekends when they get their chance for some sunshine and fresh air. I am hopeful that building a new larger outdoor run with a mesh or wire roof will let them get enough freedom to keep production high while also keeping them safe from the plethora of predators out to get them here on Cardinal Ridge.

While I tap out these few words and occasionally glance up at the NFL conference championships on this chilly Sunday afternoon; I find myself hoping that I might be blessed enough to enjoy another uneventful week.