Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Frankie and Slim
Monday, June 20, 2005
GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
It is sad to have to report that one of my baby chickens did not survive the first week outside. It simply vanished. Ron thinks it got out in the open pen and a big hawk swooped down and grabbed it. We can not find a trace of the chick. All the others are doing well and adapting. Am I blue? Oh yes.
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It turned out the Araucanas can fly very early. I went to the pen time a few days later to see another one perched on top of the 6ft high fence ready to fly the coop. Ron and I immediately clipped their wings and that took care of that for now.
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