Teila's Tales From the Coop

[satay]

Teila ....

You are THE  greatest tonic.     Was sitting feeling slightly sorry for myself, ( arthritic pain and waiting for meds to kick in ), when I opened up your thread here. 

Tears rolled down my cheeks with laughter.   Especially the snow lessons.   Wot a hoot.   

As for cats - they are adorable ........well - - mostly.   

Absolutely fabulous writing - such a joy to read.    You and the meds mostly fixed the problem.   

Good onya .... 

Cheers  .....   ( I think that is an hysterical laughter emoticon !!  ) 

So agree with you anni. When i lost Zeus earlier in the year i got on the net and there was one of Teila's stories that brought a smile to my then very sad face. I have noted not to drink Tea while reading them though

 

[Anniebee]

So agree with you anni. When i lost Zeus earlier in the year i got on the net and there was one of Teila's stories that brought a smile to my then very sad face. I have noted not to drink Tea while reading them though

So sad to lose a much loved pet - like Zeus. I know the feeling, only too well.

On a much happier note though, it is thanks to Teila and others elsewhere who have this particular writing gift, that we can smile, and laugh so much - - - - - - and snort tea out through our noses. !! Laughter surely is the best medicine.


I wonder when the next gem will be published. ( Teila ... I am honestly not being pushy here, just looking forward to more stories one day, when you have time and the inclination ) - I have gone back and read them again, with the same response - heaps of laughter. ....

 

[Teila]

The Uninvited Visitor

The reason why is not important but my Mum, my sister, myself, two dogs and one cat were all sharing a high set Queenslander in a medium sized country town. This was our first experience in a country town, having lived 15mins from the centre of a major capital city.

On a Friday evening we liked to wander down to the local Pub, have a counter meal, a couple of drinks and while Mum was playing pokies, my sister and I would have a dance, chat to people we knew etc.

This one particular Friday night when we got home, the dogs seemed a little hyperactive and the cat was no where to be found.

We did not think a lot of it and while my sister and I got changed, ready to flop on the couch and watch some television, my Mum went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Mum was always a little on the highly strung side and we were used to screams when she encountered a mouse or spider etc. However, on this particular night she let out a scream way out of the mouse/spider league and more into the human eating ghost or zombie league; not that we had had cause to hear that scream before, this was a judgement call

On arriving in the kitchen, we followed her horrified stare to the top of the kitchen door, on which was perched not a Zombie but the most cutest, cuddly looking Possum I have ever seen.

This instantly explained why the cat was nowhere to be found, he would be under the bed, plate sized eyes, muttering “BIG Rat! BIG Rat! … BIG Rat!”. We both pretty much said “Mum, shut up, you are frightening the life out of the poor little guy” while I was thinking the best place for her would be under the bed with the cat.

Anyways, now we have to work out how to get the little guy out of the house. This is not going to be easy because the kitchen door he is perched on is in the middle of the house and he does have some serious claws on his cute little paws.

At the time, I was working at the local Police Station and thinking we might need a hand, gave the guys on night shift a call. They said it was quiet and were happy to help in exchange for a cup of coffee.

When they arrived, their first suggestion was to get Mum out of the house and they thought she might be best in the garden, holding the dogs back. Thinking this was a great plan, she retreated.

It did not take the remaining four of us long to gently encourage Mr Possum from the top of the door, up the hallway and out the open front door to safety.

What none of us knew was that Mum had retreated to the front lawn, where she had squatted down, facing away from the front door, with a sitting dog under each arm and one tiny flaw in her ‘keep me and the dogs as far away as possible’ plan. She was positioned right between the front door and the closest tree.

Mr Possum, raced down the front steps, across the lawn, up her back and launched off her head into the tree

They probably still tell that story at the Station

 

[Anniebee]

The Uninvited Visitor

The reason why is not important but my Mum, my sister, myself, two dogs and one cat were all sharing a high set Queenslander in a medium sized country town. This was our first experience in a country town, having lived 15mins from the centre of a major capital city.

On a Friday evening we liked to wander down to the local Pub, have a counter meal, a couple of drinks and while Mum was playing pokies, my sister and I would have a dance, chat to people we knew etc.

This one particular Friday night when we got home, the dogs seemed a little hyperactive and the cat was no where to be found.

We did not think a lot of it and while my sister and I got changed, ready to flop on the couch and watch some television, my Mum went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Mum was always a little on the highly strung side and we were used to screams when she encountered a mouse or spider etc. However, on this particular night she let out a scream way out of the mouse/spider league and more into the human eating ghost or zombie league; not that we had had cause to hear that scream before, this was a judgement call

On arriving in the kitchen, we followed her horrified stare to the top of the kitchen door, on which was perched not a Zombie but the most cutest, cuddly looking Possum I have ever seen.

This instantly explained why the cat was nowhere to be found, he would be under the bed, plate sized eyes, muttering “BIG Rat! BIG Rat! … BIG Rat!”. We both pretty much said “Mum, shut up, you are frightening the life out of the poor little guy” while I was thinking the best place for her would be under the bed with the cat.

Anyways, now we have to work out how to get the little guy out of the house. This is not going to be easy because the kitchen door he is perched on is in the middle of the house and he does have some serious claws on his cute little paws.

At the time, I was working at the local Police Station and thinking we might need a hand, gave the guys on night shift a call. They said it was quiet and were happy to help in exchange for a cup of coffee.

When they arrived, their first suggestion was to get Mum out of the house and they thought she might be best in the garden, holding the dogs back. Thinking this was a great plan, she retreated.

It did not take the remaining four of us long to gently encourage Mr Possum from the top of the door, up the hallway and out the open front door to safety.

What none of us knew was that Mum had retreated to the front lawn, where she had squatted down, facing away from the front door, with a sitting dog under each arm and one tiny flaw in her ‘keep me and the dogs as far away as possible’ plan. She was positioned right between the front door and the closest tree.

Mr Possum, raced down the front steps, across the lawn, up her back and launched off her head into the tree

They probably still tell that story at the Station

I will tackle the kinda serious part of this first ...... being Victorian, I only recently learned ( via Hot Seat Millionaire show on Ch. 9 ) what a 'high set residence' is - and where they can be found.

In Queensland. ( I got the correct answer, in front of my TV set ). Was just a guess, but now I know for sure. I know a lot of Queensland residences are built on stilts but .... ??

.,,,,,,,

I am tempted to say "puleeze, Teila, my aching sides won't stand much more" .... but this story was hysterical. I had side split laughing throughout most of it and can handle that for the joy and fun of your stories.

It was the visualisation of your mother on the lawn, with the dogs - not expecting to be a spring board for a possum, that had me in stitches. Seriously. And best place would be under the bed with the cat !! ( Poor Mum !! )

But the entire story is more than entertaining, and invites a what will happen next, imagination overload. That is great writing and what it is all about.

And the involvement of the local cops ---- yep - they would still be talking about that diversion from normal duties, for quite a while.

Very well done - - - and thank you ...... AB.

 

[pattyhen]

Another great story. Poor mum I'm sorry but I can't quit laughing.

 

[sunflour]

The Uninvited Visitor

The reason why is not important but my Mum, my sister, myself, two dogs and one cat were all sharing a high set Queenslander in a medium sized country town. This was our first experience in a country town, having lived 15mins from the centre of a major capital city.

On a Friday evening we liked to wander down to the local Pub, have a counter meal, a couple of drinks and while Mum was playing pokies, my sister and I would have a dance, chat to people we knew etc.

This one particular Friday night when we got home, the dogs seemed a little hyperactive and the cat was no where to be found.

We did not think a lot of it and while my sister and I got changed, ready to flop on the couch and watch some television, my Mum went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Mum was always a little on the highly strung side and we were used to screams when she encountered a mouse or spider etc. However, on this particular night she let out a scream way out of the mouse/spider league and more into the human eating ghost or zombie league; not that we had had cause to hear that scream before, this was a judgement call

On arriving in the kitchen, we followed her horrified stare to the top of the kitchen door, on which was perched not a Zombie but the most cutest, cuddly looking Possum I have ever seen.

This instantly explained why the cat was nowhere to be found, he would be under the bed, plate sized eyes, muttering “BIG Rat! BIG Rat! … BIG Rat!”. We both pretty much said “Mum, shut up, you are frightening the life out of the poor little guy” while I was thinking the best place for her would be under the bed with the cat.

Anyways, now we have to work out how to get the little guy out of the house. This is not going to be easy because the kitchen door he is perched on is in the middle of the house and he does have some serious claws on his cute little paws.

At the time, I was working at the local Police Station and thinking we might need a hand, gave the guys on night shift a call. They said it was quiet and were happy to help in exchange for a cup of coffee.

When they arrived, their first suggestion was to get Mum out of the house and they thought she might be best in the garden, holding the dogs back. Thinking this was a great plan, she retreated.

It did not take the remaining four of us long to gently encourage Mr Possum from the top of the door, up the hallway and out the open front door to safety.

What none of us knew was that Mum had retreated to the front lawn, where she had squatted down, facing away from the front door, with a sitting dog under each arm and one tiny flaw in her ‘keep me and the dogs as far away as possible’ plan. She was positioned right between the front door and the closest tree.

Mr Possum, raced down the front steps, across the lawn, up her back and launched off her head into the tree

They probably still tell that story at the Station

Well told. You have a great gift and should be writing for a living

 

[Teila]

Lead in ….. For the over three years we have had chickens, hubby has watched me clean the coop, feed the gals, change their water, tend to their chickenalities, break their broodiness etc. When I have had to go away for a couple of days, he does enough that the gals are alive when I get home

So, we are not talking about a novice here.

He loves the gals pretty much the same as I do BUT they also have him wrapped around their tiny dinosaur feet!

If the gals want extra meal worms, they do not even ask me any more, they just go straight to Dad and beg. If the gals want anything, they ask Dad and they usually get it. If he had his way, broody breaking would be outlawed and whoever was broody would happily have a dozen or so eggs to sit on and we would have chicks as far as the eye could see.


Blondie is broody!

Blondie is proving very hard to break!

Day 3 in the Broody Breaker Blondie is close to broken and I’m thinking one more night and we should be done.

Enter Hubby ………

Hubby: “I am going to work outside today so that the girls can free range and Blondie can have a wander around”

Me: “Cool, thanks”

The removable chicken door at the top of the ramp gets positioned so Blondie has no nest box access. The day moves on .. I hear hubby chatting to the girls and the girls chatting back, meal worms being doled out, the occasional “what did you do that for?” etc Crystal gets let into the coop to lay her egg and then out again.

I work from home and when I checked at lunch time, all was going well, Blondie was mooching around the garden with the others and only occasionally running back to the chicken door … looking good

This is where the tale takes a turn that you may have been expecting but I can tell ya, floored me!

We have a few options when breaking a broody and the breaking process is usually a combination of:

1. Broody Jail
2. Close chicken door to coop
3. Close big door to run, ramp and coop when free ranging
4. Lay plank across nest boxes

I wandered out at 4pm when I finished work, saw the removable chicken door on the outdoor table and enquired

Me: “Who is in the nest box”

Hubby: “Blondie”

Me: thinking .. What the? Huh? Did I hear that right? Are you insane? but going with “Why?”

Hubby: “Cos she was driving me nuts running up and down the ramp”

This is news to me so definitely also going to be news to you .. apparently we have an Option 5 . Go right back to square one!

Was I muttering and mumbling under my breath while I peeled a tiny, blonde, screeching, raptor impersonating, feather duster out of the nest box? You betchya!!!

Blondzilla:

 

[satay]

Lead in ….. For the over three years we have had chickens, hubby has watched me clean the coop, feed the gals, change their water, tend to their chickenalities, break their broodiness etc. When I have had to go away for a couple of days, he does enough that the gals are alive when I get home So, we are not talking about a novice here. He loves the gals pretty much the same as I do BUT they also have him wrapped around their tiny dinosaur feet! If the gals want extra meal worms, they do not even ask me any more, they just go straight to Dad and beg. If the gals want anything, they ask Dad and they usually get it. If he had his way, broody breaking would be outlawed and whoever was broody would happily have a dozen or so eggs to sit on and we would have chicks as far as the eye could see. Blondie is broody! Blondie is proving very hard to break! Day 3 in the Broody Breaker Blondie is close to broken and I’m thinking one more night and we should be done. Enter Hubby ……… Hubby: “I am going to work outside today so that the girls can free range and Blondie can have a wander around” Me: “Cool, thanks” The removable chicken door at the top of the ramp gets positioned so Blondie has no nest box access. The day moves on .. I hear hubby chatting to the girls and the girls chatting back, meal worms being doled out, the occasional “what did you do that for?” etc Crystal gets let into the coop to lay her egg and then out again. I work from home and when I checked at lunch time, all was going well, Blondie was mooching around the garden with the others and only occasionally running back to the chicken door … looking good This is where the tale takes a turn that you may have been expecting but I can tell ya, floored me! We have a few options when breaking a broody and the breaking process is usually a combination of:

1. Broody Jail
2. Close chicken door to coop
3. Close big door to run, ramp and coop when free ranging
4. Lay plank across nest boxes

I wandered out at 4pm when I finished work, saw the removable chicken door on the outdoor table and enquired Me: “Who is in the nest box” Hubby: “Blondie” Me: thinking .. What the? Huh? Did I hear that right? Are you insane? but going with “Why?” Hubby: “Cos she was driving me nuts running up and down the ramp” This is news to me so definitely also going to be news to you .. apparently we have an Option 5 . Go right back to square one! Was I muttering and mumbling under my breath while I peeled a tiny, blonde, screeching, raptor impersonating, feather duster out of the nest box? You betchya!!! Blondzilla:

Omg that's too funny. I can see my hubby doing the same thing.

 

[Fizzybelle]

Chickenalities, love it! Blondezilla strikes again.

 

[Anniebee]

Teila ... that is sooo funny. ... especially your description of Blondzilla. as you 'peeled' her off the nest.

Methinks that hubbies are big softies - and will do as demanded ( by chickens ) with no questions asked. My hubby ( part retired, sort of, maybe !! ) ... loves nothing better than 'finding eggs' in the morning, when he returns from work around 9 am - and I have gone back to napping. He often announces proudly that he has 'given the girls some fresh water' ... and fed them. Which is fantastic ... but he doesn't want to learn how to put in ACV which goes in their water now-a-days. And he thinks because they are smallish - they don't eat much

. ... I continually have news for him .. they are gormandisers of the first dimension.

One glorious day, I will get their eating habits through to him. One cup of layer pellets - does not 2 chickens feed, for more than about an hour !!

That's enough waffle from me .........

A super, funny post .... and thanks so much for the laugh.