It’s not just us.

The bloody fox has struck again. Our friends who have just got into chicken keeping have been hit by the BF. It came in the middle of the day and took the lovely Gilda (she is, or rather was, the French Black Copper Marans I talked about earlier.) They had taken to letting the hens out for a bit during the day so they could get used to scratching around and feeding outside their pen, just as we have done. It was a nice sunny day. The BF had a lot of front to come and take a hen in those circumstances, but perhaps he (or she) had some hungry kittens back at the den.
Our friends, as you can imagine, are pretty fed up. They are going to put a net over the run so in effect the hens(I assume they will be getting a replacement) will be caged in. They will let them out but only when they are in the garden too and can offer some form of protection from the predators through closeness.

Biters

I can’t believe it. I received my first insect bite yesterday as I was weeding the potato patch. It got me on the crease behind my right knee. I suppose it was my fault as I put on my sexy cut-off jean shorts as soon as I can so that my little (this the word that La D uses to describe my walking limbs) white legs can get some colour in them. This will allow me to wear shorts (proper shorts of course) when I go out and will not constitute a threat to the sensibilities of old women and young children who are of a nervous disposition. I have no desire to frighten other people through the display of my little white legs.
Anyway, back to the bugs. After I had slapped the back of my leg in the vague hope of killing the thing that was literally sucking the life-blood out of me, I noticed some more starting to “sniff me up” so to speak. Well I put paid to them alright.
I completely forgot the weeding and stood as still as I could and became a bug-killing machine. As soon as they landed on my skin or clothes, I let them settle in for a few seconds, you know to get them to drop their guard a bit and feeling smug, and then WHAM! BANG! TWHACK! KAPOW! There was blood, wing bits, pieces of fly all over my shorts, t-shit and legs and arms. It was a bloodbath.

At least that was my intention. I actually got one fly, and as she (yes, it’s normally the females of the species that is deadlier than the male) had not had time to dip her needle deep into my flesh and drink my crimson body fluid to satiate her vampiric desires, there was no mess just a crumpled fly on the earth after I had whacked her on my cut-off jeans.
Although clearly she won’t do that again, it’s her relations I am worrying about now. Gulp. I must get some stuff to spray on my naked limbs that they don’t like and hopefully they will leave me well alone. We’ll see. I do seem to attract them for some reason. La D says they like rotten flesh, I personally tend to believe they like tender meat. I’m sticking to that.

Ciao, mantenere la fede