Got home after work, the dentist, whatever, and took the dogs out for a run in the paddock while we fed the horses. Again, great poodles! Went right past all the chooks and ducks and didn’t blink, even when a duck fluttered.
The poodles had been running back and forth along the fenceline, sniffing everything, peeing on everything and even, thank you Montana, rubbing in things.
Mischa went out and came back with a mouthfull of something crunchy.
A dead wallaby.
What was left of a dead wallaby.
I had to pick it up (don’t ask) and throw it far, far away.
Well, about 2 feet away… as far as I could throw a crunchy, imminently breakable thing which was threatening to fall apart as I held it as gingerly as possible.
Then, we come into the yard and I find a dead baby blackbird on the grass behind the house. (Yes, we have blackbirds nesting in the roof… sigh).
I picked it up, it was big but just starting to get fuzz, no feathers.
I gave it a ‘long grass burial (ie I threw it into the long grass on the other side of the fence) and then found another three!
Wayne said we only need 20 more to make a pie.
Thing is, they weren’t tiny babies. Why weren’t they safe in their nest? Did their mother throw them out? Did someone else? One things for sure, they didn’t jump. They were pushed!
What I did today:
Visited the dentist. Again. Bought chaff. Forgot to buy dishwashing liquid from the supermarket. Re-arranged the office so I could get a better reception on the internet.
What I didn’t do:
Finish re-arranging the office. Have dinner.
Better go do that now.