sour crop
steph, seb, flotto and oss came to stay last night.
tonight, i'm in sole charge of sons (maybe for the 3rd time in 3 years?) as mrs.perou is in london town for her sister's birthday dinner.
the sons have been well behaved (for a change).
despite my difficulty with reading the bedtime stories as i'm losing my voice.
the seasonal cold is lingering.
need to clear it by tuesday for my first shoot of the year.
the hen known as 'shim' or 'satan' which we raised up from an egg is shitting blood.
spent a long while online reading different people's opinions about what's wrong with the chicken.
subsequently i bought some 'epson salts' from the chemist (confusing the chemist by saying 'there's 'directions for use' for adults and children but no mention of chickens?')
and syringe fed the hen a teaspoon of solution, left her some layers mash mixed with live bio yogurt and made her a fresh bed in our fowl ICU.
amazing what you can find out.
(we're binning the encyclopedia brittanica that we inherited...if anyone wants a full set, let me know)
some of the combined online mind were also of the opinion that if you're chicken's shitting blood it'll be dead soon.
i'm not a vet but i reckon it's probably gotta a 'sour crop'.
fire/police (little) man Z
i wish grown up service people would wear wooly gloves with animal characters on each finger.
maybe better for policemen than firemen?
mummers boy
z, treading the mummers' boards: the flatbed trailer in the pub carpark.
i'd LOVE to be a mummer.
but i don't spend enough time in the pub.
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