- Dec 17, 2010
- 165
- 10
- 103
I was a gardener before I ever considered keeping chickens. A couple years ago we heralded the first sighting of a toad as a good omen in our garden. We dubbed him "Todd". One day we spotted him eating a swarm of termites--an hour later we came back to the same spot and found him tripled in size, and still chowing down on the few remaining insects. That day we declared him a hero. We made him little houses and chased stray cats away to protect him.
Today our chickens came out to supervise the planting of the spring garlic. We paid little attention to them until I noticed the RIR acting unusually aggressive. When I looked, Todd was dangling from her beak while she viciously jerked to and fro like a cat with a mouse! Todd was already a goner.
She ran off with him when I came close (afraid I was going to steal her prize, I guess). I later found his abandoned carcass lying in the middle of the lawn. The only thing left to do was to give him a proper burial in the compost heap.
Why couldn't she have taken this kind of interest in the chipmunks that destroy our strawberries?
Today our chickens came out to supervise the planting of the spring garlic. We paid little attention to them until I noticed the RIR acting unusually aggressive. When I looked, Todd was dangling from her beak while she viciously jerked to and fro like a cat with a mouse! Todd was already a goner.
Why couldn't she have taken this kind of interest in the chipmunks that destroy our strawberries?
