More blurry chick photos!
You’re so excited! Just what you wanted! MORE BLURRY CHICK PHOTOS!!! Sigh. I am so tapped out at the minute that even an hour–half an hour–to experiment with The Magic Camera and do what Blue Rose and a few others have suggested Cannot Be Budgeted into the Schedule at This Time.* With the result that . . . this week’s photos of expanding poultry are also blurry. I’ll probably waste even more time screaming and throwing things at WordPress. Although I am attempting to use the photo template that patient Blogmom has mocked** up for me: she of course can’t replicate what keeps happening to me. I’m sure this means this template will grow horns and a long pointed tail as soon as I start loading photos.
This is where we began a fortnight ago. Week-old chicks. Woosha woosha.
This is now last week. THEY'VE GROWN. As they do.
Food! Food! Foodfoodfoodfoodfoodfood!
And they talk ALL THE TIME. Cheepcheepcheepcheepcheepcheep. It's like someone left the switch on.
Look, Mom! I can FLY! (Or at least jump with flapping.)
This is now this week. By next week they won’t be chicks any more, they’ll be half-grown chickens.
They're still obsessed with food though. While Penelope was feeding the other chickens they rushed over to me. Any human shoes are worth a try.
FEEDING FRENZY! GAAAAAAAAAAH!
WE HAVEN'T EATEN IN AT LEAST HALF AN HOUR! WE'RE STAAAAAAARVING!
I wish a little of this would rub off on the hellhounds. . . .
One of the cool things is the way mum patrols. She walks round and round and round, keeping an eye on things and making ‘don’t worry dear I’m here’ gurgles deep in her throat. Penelope says that after the chicks have had their meal she herds them firmly into a corner, plonks herself down in front of them and makes them have a nap. Snork. Mums. They’re all alike.***
* * *
* I happened to be listening to a voice + piano concert on Radio 3 . . . just before I had planned to do my own singing practise. Ugggggh. Change of plan. She was one of these dark rich apparent mezzos who have the full coloratura top end. Ugggggh. . . . The only drawback so far to learning how to knit, aside from the stash, the books, and the time, is that it destroyed my standard cry of despair: Why didn’t I take up knitting! I need a new standard cry of despair. Why didn’t I take up carving roses out of soap! Why didn’t I take up World of Warcraft! Why didn’t I take up snowshoeing!^ I can’t say Why didn’t I take up crochet because clearly I will take up crochet. Just not right now.
^ I did. But I ran out of snow.
** So to speak. Blogmom is pretty much a mock-free zone although she retains her right to irony.
*** Gulp. Pressing the publish button now. . . .
comments
Please join the discussion at Robin McKinley's Web Forum.