The Evolution of Atlas: A Breeding (and Chat) Thread

You know when you know I think. I was 20 when we got hitched. We were engaged for a year, it was a long year. I don't miss being 20 and dumb. Boy was I dumb.

Aren't we all at that age? Wonder what choices we'd make if we were wise at 20?

Something weird happened. The elderly woman across the street has had her great grandson living with her for a long time, a teenager. A few days ago, he approached my husband when he went to get the mail and said something about someone asking us about doing work for us, like interior construction work? My husband told him we had talked to no one about anything of the kind, that we do all our own work. So, today, his great grandmother called and said the guy who was putting a handicapped ramp in for her mentioned talking to us about converting a room into a den. WTH? I have no room to convert and have spoken to nobody about anything. I wonder if he was trying to drum up more work somehow by flat out lying to her or if he meant someone else. If I had work estimated it would be a roof-over for our outside steps so they'd stay dry/non-icy in winter. Strange.
 
I might of run the other way if I was smarter back than. Thankfully everything has worked out for the better in the long run.

Used to be neighbors were an asset, but lately I no longer feel that way. That is an odd thing to make up about you guys. I am suspicious of everything, and everyone these days.
 
Perhaps the guy was using you as a (deceitful)"reference" to convince her that, since you were interested in his work, she could trust him?

That's what I thought, but it's weird since he's already built her covered handicapped ramp. In any case, he's lying his through his teeth unless he meant someone else, not me. But, except for Mark Wilson on the other side of me and down the hill, we're the only neighbors in sight. No one else lives on my street. Stuff like this creeps me out, in addition to making me angry.
 
I have mostly great neighbors. The one exception I ignore completely, after I forced him to move a fence off my property and back onto his - he made a strange bid to claim it by fencing it in.

Me, I'd rather not even know mine. Thankfully, this contractor is not a neighbor to my knowledge. Our property is sort of a land island, or was until someone else became the owner of our bottom lot so no way there could be property line disputes(and he says we will remark the lines if we put up a fence or he starts clearing that lot and he's a good guy, no reason not to trust this man). I really don't know who my neighbors are now-I think some lots have been built on and some older folks have sold out and moved or even passed away. Except for two or three folks, I have no idea who lives in here and I'd like to keep it that way. Even Mark Wilson next door has people coming and going and I don't know if they're relatives, friends or burglars-too many cars go up and down his driveway and I have not personally seen him in a long time, though I hear his dog, Brody, barking and running around (out of the fence, of course).
 
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I'm really glad that Betsy has pulled through. I'd make sure she has a bit extra of the larger granite grit in her gullet, just to be on the safe side. Hopefully, Bash will be through it in a few more days. Did you use the "concoction" to help with it, or what?

I can't really complain about my neighbors. The unspoken rules tend to be 1. Mind your own business. The property owner has the right to do whatever they want on their own property, and no one else has any say so about it. 2. If you see anything suspicious, tell the neighbors. That's pretty much it.

When we first moved in, it took quite awhile for the neighbors to "accept" us. The previous owner told them we were coming from the city. I guess they thought we would be bringing "city ways" with us, expecting everyone to conform. Nope, not us. I love the "mind your own business" policy.
 
I was raised in the close in suburbs of Atlanta, but I had ponies in my backyard. I was often on my grandfather's farm west of Atlanta where it is still countrified. I was never truly a city kid so I am home now. And I am possessive of my country freedom, my property being unmolested by craziness, including roaming dogs and nutty neighbors. That means I mind my own business and I insist others mind theirs. Doesn't mean I don't wonder what someone down the hill is fighting about or growl at the dogs barking all night long, little dogs out in the frigid cold, but I leave it be unless I catch someone being abused in front of me, man or beast.

As far as the crop sickies, I used EVERYTHING. I syringed the lemon and baking soda mixture into both of them, even used lime juice when I ran out of lemon, though not three times a day-that was just a lot for us to do and messy as heck. Used Epsom salts in their water, added coconut oil to their soft feed for added calories and fat and whatever antibacterial properties it has, etc, etc. At one time or another over the past month, we've done it all to fix Betsy. Something worked, finally, but this was the toughest one we've had to deal with other than on a bird who was obviously dying, like my porcelain cockerel, Angus, who had a heart problem, or Xander, who was at the end of his life. Usually, it's hens, not roosters, who have crop issues. They just tend to eat a lot more, period, which exacerbates any issues they may have.

ETA: I think we'll skip going to Cleveland today and just go into MurphyNC. Tom's been having headaches daily and I don't want to make him suffer any more than he has to. We can go to Bojangles for breakfast, Walmart, the Grocery Outlet for their Angus sale day and a huge bag of potatoes to make potato-peanut butter candy for our family dinner and do some canning of potato chunks (very useful during the year), as well as Big Lots. And I may stop in to a feed store and get some sort of small bag of crumble for ailing birds, maybe game bird grower or whatever specialty food they have.
 
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