Step away from the bird

The rooster attacked me once too often.  He drew blood with his spurs and bruised my arms with his wings.  He has torn the back feathers off most of the hens.  He had to go.  I went out to close the coop door after dinner and heard the click and swish of a bolt being lowered. A voice from above said, "Step away from the bird" and took one shot to dispatch him.  The hens cackled loudly for several minutes, discussing the merits of the old boy or Paul's terrific aim, perhaps.  They finally settled down and apparently haven't missed their protector.  I know I haven't; when I hear footsteps behind me I know it's a hen begging for a treat, not the rooster begging for a fight.  Our mornings haven't been this quiet in a year.

The weekend was beautifully cool but sunny so we moved the boxes that Paul built for the lavender garden and the bluestone slabs for the front and rear entry by the asparagus plot to function as raised beds.  Of course we had to pick rocks so we have 6 more feet of rock wall base on the property line.

First order of business is to plant some garlic and onions to winter over.  Then in the spring we'll try out growing potatoes. We have 3 beds and we can rotate our crops. Luckily we had 3 boxes to play with.  There is still room for one or two more boxes, perhaps for peppers and tomatoes and things.

The other big job was to plant 1.5 bushels (300 bulbs) of mixed daffodils and some muscari in the rock-free beds Paul prepared. They are from VanBourgondien, and come in real bushel baskets.  We need another bushel to finish off the beds.
Sir Rooster led his girls to help; Paul laid fencing on top to discourage them. He's a beautiful bird, except for his feet, but he's getting a bit too territorial and protective.  I watched him and a barred rock fight for over a minute.  Both had their capes raised and claws looking for blood.  She had him on his back for a second; he tore a beakfull of feathers.  They called it a draw until next time, I guess. He's beginning to put up his dukes at me, daring me to fight.  That isn't acceptable, Bird.  you may be seeing the inside of a crock pot before the winter is over.

Reading: The Perfect Crime **** by Peter Abraham from Stephen King's list of well written books he's enjoyed. (library book!!!!)