learning the sun
Before heading into Manchester last night for the book event, I decided to enforce some tough love on the bathroom birds. Since they're nearly feathered out and hopping out of their safe little box—I decided the 78 degree evening would be the perfect time to learn about the sun (which is a fancy way of saying: learn to be outside chickens). They were set in a sunny patch in a small cage and started chewing on the grass under their feet and eating ants. Complaints were few. All of the other farm animals seemed indifferent to the chirping cage, save for Saro.
Saro's my female Toulouse, and pretty spunky for a goose. Her partner Cyrus is on the mend from a broken leg and infection and doesn't travel with her like he used to. I go out in the morning with an old teacup filled with antibiotics and set him in my lap and let him lap up his medicine. But to his credit he takes it and seems to be improving. He flies around more to make up for the limping. Geese live to be forty, so my yearling gets all the help I can offer. I want Cyrus and Saro to be with me long as they can. From rented cabin to my future lamb and wool farm. We'll land there together, limping or otherwise.