~ The Pleasures of Ignorance, by Robert Lynd, 1921

I'm happy to announce that Dru is no longer alone! Spring is here, baby chicks have hatched, and so I was able to get two new hens.

The first one (who, as per tradition, will receive a name on the day she lays her first egg) is your average red hen, already old enough to defend herself against hazing; and she seems very congenial to boot. It took some time for Dru to warm up to her former coopmate when I first brought her home, whereas she seemed to like this one immediately. She inspected her from every angle and deemed her very satisfactory.

From day one they were glued to each other all day long! It's sweet how the new, young hen seems to observe everything Drusilla does, which plants she decides to eat, etc, then earnestly imitates her. I bet Dru enjoys having such a studious disciple.

Dru and Louise used to sleep in the laying boxes rather than on the perches; each of them had laid claim to a different box so that they spent the night in separate cubicles with a wall between them; in contrast, when I went to check on them the first night, I found Dru and the new hen huddled up together on the same perch.

Moreover, when it came to seeking shelter from the elements, Dru and Louise used to sit on opposite sides of the outdoor table—whereas, when it snowed a little on Day 1 after the new hen arrived, I found her and Dru hiding under the table on the same side, quietly and companionably clucking to each other.

At which point one of my friends bravely said out loud what everyone was thinking:

And, I mean, the new hen just came out of her egg this year so the age gap with 5yo Dru is probably problematic in chicken years, but also this reminded me of the most wholesome image that lives in my computer (which balances it out):

But I did mention that I got two new hens. I wanted both of them to be 10-12 weeks-old, but unfortunately the neighbour I bought them from only had one hen left in this age range. He said I could take a younger chick, and I was reluctant at first because I didn't want her to be attacked by the older hens—I could keep them separated until she grew up a bit but wouldn't she get lonely?

(This is a complete digression, but while making small talk with this neighbour I mentioned that I've had a lot going on since the beginning of the year and I was a bit exhausted, and he said "Oh, you need some birch water" and took me to the nearest birch and offered me a drink from the tree. I loved this—every time I mention any kind of ailment to a neighbour, they all have their Elixir of Choice that will solve all my problems, be it special honey as a cough remedy or whatever homemade concoction they personally swear by.

So I went home with two bottles of birch water, and promised I would have a glass every morning.)

But let's go back to chickens. Like I said I didn't want to have a smaller chick along with two older ones, because chickens can be quite mean to more vulnerable members of their coop, but then I went to look at his young chicks and quickly developed a soul connection with one of them. She seemed solitary and had a glint of existential anguish in her eyes that I identified with. So I took her home.

I also liked the fact that her feet are currently longer than her body.

As expected, the older hens are pretty rough with her, so the chick currently spends the nights in the greenhouse where it's warm, and in the morning I transfer her to the coop.

Every morning I have to slalom between a dog and a cat during the Transfer of the Chick.

She gets a supervised visit with the other hens so they get to know each other, then I let the older hens out and the baby spends the day in the coop, where she can walk around and forage safely by herself.

I initially let her have access to the indoor part of the coop, but then realised that her tormented temperament resulted in her hiding from the world in the dark all day long, so I now close the little trap so she'll spend the day downstairs.

It was obvious that she longed to look at the world but was too anxious to do so on her own, so I gently placed her on the roof of her coop so she could have a better view of the pasture, with the llamas and donkeys grazing in the distance, and it blew her little mind.

I also worried she might fail to learn important chicken social codes if she didn't spend enough time with other chickens as a child (and she didn't seem very good at socialising with her age peers to begin with) so after letting her adapt to her new home for a bit I decided to take her out of the coop, on a leash (so she wouldn't run away into the woods), for some more supervised socialising.

The other hens were fairly nice to her, they seemed less interested in hazing her when everyone was outside of the coop, but her anxiety got the better of her and she just curled up into a tiny ball and tried to disappear.

If I were a hen in a coop, even an adult one, I would be intimidated by the other hens, especially the ones who are very close friends like Dru and the new girl seem to be, so I sympathised, and deposited the little chick on the outdoor table where I was about to have my afternoon tea. I gave her some grains to eat in my saucer and, like any self-respecting chicken would, she immediately stepped in it and made a mess.

She looked a lot more confident and adventurous on top of the table! I figured, since the other hens were foraging around the table while clucking to each other, this still counted as socialising, from a safe distance, for the little one. She was a bit wary of Pandolf at first, who was going round and round the table like a fluffy shark, hoping to get a glimpse of this new animal, but once she realised he just wanted to rest his long nose on the table and look at her adoringly, she stopped paying attention to him.

And after thoroughly exploring the table, trying to taste my mandarin and then my tea, having a look at the book I was reading and then at the other hens below her—and chirping her opinions continuously the whole time—she slowly ventured onto my lap and fell asleep :')

"Yo yo, everybody! Put your hands in the air! Who's ready to get FUCKED UP TONIGHT!?"

"Wooo!"

*gentle woodwind music*

Reblog to give prev a fucking break holy shit y’all

Navy seal in action

thinking about how james bond just wanted to love and to be loved.

when he told vesper that he loved her on that beach, quit his job for her almost immediately, said he wanted to sail the world aimlessly with her. when she’s drowning and he realizes he can’t save her, he just reaches for her. just wants to hold her. when he pulls her out of the water, short of breath and exhausted and shaking, and gives her the little air left in his lungs to try and save her.

when m’s order nearly killed him and he came back, a kicked dog returning with a bird, to help her. because he knew she needed him. when he blew up his childhood home for her without hesitation, when he fought an army to get to her. when he held her while she died, tried to make her laugh, kissed her forehead once she was gone and closed her eyes.

when he thought madeline had betrayed him, had compromised him, and he just… let her go. when he found out madeline had a daughter and, even though she insisted he wasn’t the father, woke up to make the kid breakfast. when madeline continued to insist he wasn’t the father and he groveled at safin’s feet, apologized and surrendered to save the kid’s life.

james bond was doomed from the start. made of love and loyalty in a world that demanded a coldness he was never capable of delivering. like skyfall burning in that barren winter field, he was destined to turn to ash—only after glowing bright and brilliant and brief.

if you see me tag Character on a post and you think to yourself "how the hell is that Character" mind your damn business alright we're on a first name basis. me and Character.

I don’t think I want my freak matched. I think I want it challenged in a way that feels intellectual but also sexy.

mutuals please do this to me

reading small gods by terry pratchett for the first time (my first discworld read) and it’s incredible. I’m a pastors kid who is now agnostic. This shit is so good to me. It speaks to me like a tortoise to a … well, you get it.

ppl see Q as small and fluffy and mistake him for a fuzzy ferret, but actually, the man is a mongoose. do you see my vision

old dog who is so submissive and chippable, is this anything

Lifelong feral James getting humane-trapped, forcibly de-wormed and chipped and trimmed before being released into a free-range feral rescue farm and having this bewildered, frozen moment where he's afraid to leave the trap and step out into the wind because despite the uncertainty and unfamiliarity of the experience it's also the first time he knew the warmth and comfort of a firm hand.