Overcoming Bloglessness

The Chick Report


The Chick Report

Here’s my brooder made from a recycled recycling bin with an oven rack for a screen.
I had it in the garage at first, but it’s easier to regulate the temperature indoors. Besides, I like the sound of their peeps. I’ll miss that when they move outside.
The  coop is ready. I’ll plant some flowers and make it look girly. It’s a small coop. It might get bigger someday. The chickens can run loose in the yard when they’re old enough.



The chicks have grown a lot in the 10 days I’ve had them. Their wings feathers and tails are coming along nicely.


Today I gave them a log to play with; something to jump off of and sleep on. They like it.


Don’t you do it! 
This one is Kitty.  No, Betty.  Bunny.  No.   Names haven’t stuck yet.

I sit in the afternoon sun with the chicks on my lap in a little flannel blanket nest.  They look out the window until they fall asleep.


I’m enjoying my little chicks. Mr. Raven likes them too. I haven’t seen him hold one though. Probably, when I’m not looking…

Ring of Fire.


A Mouse Tale

Title illustration from The Tale of Two Bad Mice

Title illustration from The Tale of Two Bad Mice (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Daily Prompt: Daring Do.

Tell us about the time you rescued someone else (person or animal) from a dangerous situation. What happened? How did you prevail? Photographers, artists, poets: show us BOLD

A Mouse Tale

I’ve never saved a human life, but I’ve saved umpteen cats, one rabbit, a pigeon and, my most daring animal rescue ever, two mice. It was daring of me to think I could secretly transport two mice in a small cardboard box in my pocket,  from Missouri to Oregon, on a Greyhound bus. I was fourteen years old.

I’d rescued the mice from Grandma’s chickens who’d uncovered their nest and were gobbling up the naked little babies like candy. A city girl, I was shocked to learn that chickens would eat mice! I shooed the vicious birds away and grabbed two little survivors, all pink and bald and blind to the perils of the cruel world.

Grandma humored me and found a little box I could keep them in. I made them a cozy nest and fed them milk with a little straw. They grew fast. Their grey fur had come in and their eyes were open by the end of my stay at Grandma’s house.

Great-grandma accompanied me on the three day bus ride home. She didn’t know I had mice in my pocket. The trip was going well, until the second day when I heard a kerfuffle in the back of the bus. A lady screamed, “A mouse was crawling up my leg!”  I checked my pocket. There was a hole in the box and only one mouse inside. What was I to do? I kept my mouth shut.

The bus rolled on through the night. I sat in the very front seat, wide awake while Great-grandma snoozed in the seat behind me.  The bus driver saw the mouse first.  It was on the steps by the bus door, in plain sight.   Without a thought for my own safety (or getting kicked off the bus) I hopped down the steps and scooped up the runaway mouse. The bus driver glared at me. You’d better keep that thing to yourself, he grumbled.

I did. I got those mice all the way home without Great-grandma finding out.

But then I had to face my dad. He didn’t appreciate my daring mouse rescue. He was not impressed with my dedication or the heroism of my actions.

He let the mice go, in the field behind our house where, I believe, they lived happily ever after.


Daily Prompt: Ripped Into the Headline/ Homeless Pooch Denied Loving Home By Big Meany

Telma The Dog

Telma The Dog (Photo credit: naniantero)

Daily Prompt: Ripped Into the Headline.

Write about something that happened over the weekend as thought it’s the top story on your local paper.

Photographers, artists, poets show us something from your WEEKEND.

Homeless Pooch Denied Loving Home By Big Meany

Susan B. Raven held a dog this weekend at PetCo. The dog, named Portia, was looking for a home.

Portia is a quivering, light-tan, Todo size dog with terrier qualities; a former stray, about a year old.

“Most of the other dogs were yipping excitedly”, said Ms. Raven, “but poor little Portia was quietly quivering in her crate.”

A shelter volunteer removed the dog from the crate, leashed her and handed her to Ms. Raven, who held the trembling canine close to her heart. The two spent twenty minutes together, walking, talking and sitting together on the curb. The volunteer encouraged Ms. Raven to take Portia home.

“I love this dog” claimed Ms. Raven. “But Mr. Grumpy doesn’t want a pet.”

Ms. Raven says she could think of nothing but Portia for the remainder of the day.   She hoped to persuade Mr. Grumpy that this pooch would bring joy to their golden years.

Mr. Grumpy did not wish to be interviewed, but issued the following written statement.

One accident on this floor and you’ll never get rid of the smell. Little dog poop is the worst. It’s so small you don’t see it before you step in it. I scooped poop for 14 years; I am done with dog poop. Why do we have to have poop everywhere?”

Ms. Raven denies that there would be poop everywhere. She claims Mr. Grumpy is not looking at the proven health benefits of pet ownership, such as lower blood-pressure.

“I don’t know how to stop wanting a pet”, she says. “But apparently, giving a small dog a loving home would ruin our floors, our lawn and Mr. Grumpy’s life.”

Ms. Raven is not giving up. She hopes that Portia will find a good home, and that someday Mr. Grumpy will lighten up.