Life, Death, and Adoption on the GEE Funny Farm

I know you haven’t heard from me in awhile, but don’t you worry: I, Asimov, remain abroad in the land, happily, joyfully at home at the GEE Funny Farm. Unfortunately, however, we recently had another loss. This time it was Boaz the lop-eared bunny. It’s possible that you begin to wonder what’s going on over here with fowl and bunnies kicking the bucket, but that’s the nature of a farm—life and death are all part of the program. Well, not our actual program (I mean, you won’t be seeing anybody kick the bucket on your penny . . . or I mean I hope not), but it just simply can’t be avoided in the everyday life of a farm. It’s unfortunate because Boaz was really quite pleasant, despite not being (ah hem) me. He invaded the GEE Funny Farm from the Humane Animal Welfare Society in Waukesha. For a rabbit, he wasn’t bad. He was quiet. He didn’t mind our music or movies, and when he was out of his cage he was too big to climb into our cage. He tried because, in spite of being a bunny, I suspect he was part pig.  He sure did want our pellets.  Sometimes, as I foraged, I’d throw some down to him.  He thought it was out of kindness, but it was usually some pellet I didn’t like – one bird’s garbage is another animal’s treasure, right?

Boaz, the laid-back lop-eared bunny, we will miss you!

 But, as I mentioned, we have both death and life here on the farm. The black silkie chick had a flock of little ones. They have survived surprisingly well, considering that everyone likes chicken as you’ll remember from our former post about something lurking in the woods. I mean, truthfully, even I like chicken, though I’m more civilized and take mine cooked not raw like wild beasts in the woods. You people get confused and think this is cannibalistic but I would like to clarify that it is NOT cannibalism! You eat other mammals and nobody calls that cannibalism. I don’t eat parrots! So there! Anyway, as far as little chirping feathered munchkins go, the chicks are fairly cute and cuddly.

The dad (rooster) is the black guy by the gate.  Hmm, I can see the mom and seven chicks (all those black dots).  The brown hen is a faverolle, not a silkie.

 

The mom chick, the hen, is leading her babies around --
Now I can see all eight, can you?

 

I see one chick in front of its mom, can you? 
The others are UNDER the hen (mom) to stay warm.



If you haven't had enough of the little darlings, here is a short video.

 I've had enough of chickens!! 

Also, new life with animals (and with people, as I understand it) sometimes comes in the form of adoption, not simply birth. So we’ve had that kind too because Kathy went out and got herself another rabbit from the Humane Animal Welfare Society.  Unlike Boaz who was a lop-eared bunny, Alma is a PEW (pink-eyed white) bunny.  Sometimes his eyes seem to glow in the dark -- ugh!

Alma the pink eyed bunny -- nice background, don't cha think?

 Kathy is talking about adopting some other small pets– I wonder where they will live and what they will be. Maybe they’ll be lucky enough to be in my company at least while they’re young.

 The poor Patagonian cavy, Mary, has been moved away from me. Can you imagine the emotional devastation this must have caused her? You’d think she would be very depressed about it, but I hear rumors that she was dancing in the grass when she was moved out to her own pen adjacent to the wallaby pen. This can’t be true because who, honestly, would prefer to be anywhere other than near my precious little white personage?

Mary the Patagonian cavy dancing in her new digs -- I'm pretty sure the picture has been fixed!

It’s a little strange in here without Mary's company. She was an interesting little critter (okay, she’s bigger than I am, don’t rub it in). She would pick up her pen with her teeth and move it wherever she wanted to go. I was taking mental note of her technique before she got moved so that I could figure out a way I could manipulate my cage because I sure do wish I could do that. I’m afraid, though, that I’ve been in Kathy’s capable hands too long to manage too much cage manipulation. My work in that regard involved opening doors and escaping (not moving the cage itself), but those days seem to be long past since Kathy discovered the padlock. Ah, but what fun it was to put her children into a panic . . . *contented sigh.*