I just read all your stories. Really enjoyed all of them. That was so sweet how Skunk came to spend the night with Major when he was dying.
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Thank you for reading them.I just read all your stories. Really enjoyed all of them. That was so sweet how Skunk came to spend the night with Major when he was dying.
Horrible troll!This is Fudge, daughter of Cillin and Ruffles, with her three chicks. Fudge isn’t yet a year old, has a lovely disposition and is struggling with her first attempts at being a mother. She’s the most junior hen in her tribe and chose the nest box in my house to sit and hatch in.
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The chicks are eight days old now and Fudge must show them what they need to know to survive, feed them (of course I help) and keep them safe from the many predators and dangers we have here at Can P. Mother hens are particularly at risk here. While the adults tend to find a safe spot during the day and rest, or forage close by, the mothers need to range further afield and for longer periods in order to feed themselves and their young. Maximum cover can be the difference between life and death and mother hens pick cover spots for their young and somehow instruct the chicks that this is where they should hide in the event she gives the warning call.
While chicks are young (until they grow proper feathers) their mothers try to keep them close and as much as possible hidden from view. Go too close and the mother ruffles up and if you don’t back off she’ll go for you; it doesn’t matter how big or scary you are. For the first few days underneath mum is the safest place but as they grow older, the mum needs her chicks out from underneath her so she can tackle any threat unimpeded by the chicks.
I am incredibly privileged in being allowed to touch the chicks under a very watchfully eye and Fudge and the chicks will eat from my hand.
As the chicks grew older Fudge took them further away from the vicinity and relative safety of H Block. For Fudge and her chicks the most important criteria in their travels is the availability of cover. Even sparse cover provides some protection and importantly here during the summer, shade.
On the North side of H Block is a path that is very well shaded by surrounding trees and either side is a comparatively bare bank dotted with saplings and small shrubs. The banks are quite steep and the soil loose; climbing these banks is difficult for humans and chickens and almost impossible for baby chicks, but the track itself is a favorite place for Tribe 1 and 3 during the summer months.
Before these pictures were taken there was a small bush in the middle of the track just big enough to frustrate a hawk attack and a little to one side, another bush of similar size, suitable for three small chicks to take refuge in. Fudge has been spending a lot of time around this area. It’s close to my house which is a safe zone and close to the coop she and the chicks live in. I’ve watched Fudge send the chicks to these two small bushes on a couple of occasions when she’s felt under threat. Otherwise the path is bare of cover.
I saw the Troll one day peering over the top of my house looking down the shady path where Fudge and her chicks were scratching around in the slightly damp earth looking fro bugs. The Troll must have noticed this solitary shrub on the path and Fudge with her three chicks taking shelter there.
Now there are many sorts of Troll and the Troll that lives here is a destructive Troll; it hates nature because it won’t do as it commands and isn’t tidy. Worse still unlike the old style trolls who were limited to clubs and stones this Troll has somehow acquired a machine called a Brush Cutter which has evil steel blades that spin around very fast and mash everything in their path. When the Troll starts it’s machine you can hear all over the valley the small creatures like the mice, spiders, lizards and toads shouting to their children to run and hide as far away as they can knowing that any moment the trolls machine blades will destroy their carefully built homes and mash any creatures left behind into messy piles of pulp while it grins it’s happy stupid grin intent on maximum destruction.
Yesterday the Troll stomped past H Block (My house) door armed with the brush cutter, orange helmet, green overalls, white boots and gloves and heads off down the path. Being concerned for the safety of Fudge and her chicks I hurried out behind the Troll to find Fudge, knowing a Troll when she sees one, ruffled up ready to do battle and blocking the path.There they stood, the Troll in it’s full set of armor the Brush Cutter slung from a belt hook waving erratically in front of it and Fudge with her three frightened little chicks crowded around her ready to fight the Troll.
Being concerned that the Troll might try to fend Fudge off the brush cutter (Oh yes it would) I hurriedly intervened and gently ushered Fudge up the bank with some gentle assistance at Fudges rear end and then ushered the chicks up with her. I am now between the Troll and Fudge and the Troll stomps past. As the Troll passes Fudge slips round behind me and launches herself at the Troll; an attack I just manage to stop with my left hand receiving a couple of minor scratches and an admonishing peck for my trouble.
I had assumed that the Troll was headed off to the field at the bottom of the bank and when she stopped at the tiny shrub in the middle of the path and set about starting up the brush cutter I rushed back to my house to get my camera. I knew I needed a picture because no one would believe me when I told the story at some later date.
The Troll destroyed the little shrub and the one just on the bank edge, carefully mashing all the bits up as Fudge and her chicks looked on from their point of safety further up the bank. The Troll stopped the machine and stomped back up the path and back to it’s cave.
I looked at Fudge, Fudge looked at me; the chicks peered nervously down the path and I said to Fudge “that’s Trolls for you Fudge, evil little feckers. You keep out of their way sweetheart”.
As you can see from the picture, the path is mainly clear but in the foreground there are a couple of smaller shrubs on the path and as you will see in other pictures these are still there. You can also see past the Troll that the path is clear.
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In the next few pictures you can see that other than the shredded shrub on the ground the path is unchanged. If clearing the path had been the objective then the shrubs in the foreground would have gone as would much of the greenery on either side of the path. All that got cut down was the two shrubs Fudge used as cover, one in the center and the other off to one side.
This is the path the next day with Fudge and chicks.
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Fudge and chicks inspecting the damage.
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The path showing the untouched growth on either side.
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After witnessing this event and finding it hard to believe that even a very sick Troll could do this and there must be a rational explanation for such behavior I checked to see if the brush cutter had broken down and the Troll had abandoned further destruction due to technical difficulties.
When I tested the brush cutter later that day it was working as normal.
Now the reader might ask why didn’t I use the turn to stone spell on the troll. Unfortunately I live in a National Park and while turning other invasive and unpleasant species to stone is permitted, Trolls that have taken up residence on the mountain are a protected species.
What sort of person would go to all that trouble to destroy two small shrubs that are obviously being used as safe places by Fudge and her chicks? A person wouldn’t would they unless they were very sick, but a Troll might.
The Troll problem is ongoing here. I can understand some people wanting an area perhaps close to the house clean and tidy but the destruction of the hedgerows and the obsessive stuff in the story just makes my head spin.my brother and cousin will stop by and say I need to cut the "weeds" out of the fence lines, lawn and around the trees. I tell them a weed is a plant that is not service a useful purpose where it is at. The chickens use them for cover, shade and food... also I don't eat grass but I do eat blackberries, which is the weed they have the most issues with.
Sorry to hear about Dink. I read Cheepy's story and fell in love with her. My heart was broken when she was killed. So, I was looking for Dink's story, but haven't found it. Have you written one? I love your stories! So imaginative, and observant.I'm going to post a couple of the book versions of other stories that are dotted around the site here. I would like to have them all in one place for ease of reference. Keeping track of them is becoming difficult.
This isn't a story yet but this picture belongs here.
This was Dink. The most extraordinary hen I've known who got killed recently. I bury all the males and females that get killed by non human predation like this.
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