The Usual Peculiar Goings-on Here

Quick break just now while I marched out and explained to my rooster (Oscar Wilde II) that I’d appreciate it if he went elsewhere to do that. I have no idea why, but he’s just spent the last hour standing in the woodshed making odd noises, not ordinary crowing, more like a hen cackling while being strangled. I’m tolerant, but after an hour I’d heard enough and said so. Oscar knows when not to push it, he’s departed for a back paddock along with several of his hens. Where, so far as I’m concerned they can sing jazz or rap if they want, just so long as I don’t have to listen.

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