Sunday I was confronted with the hideous sight of a full-sized horned goat coming out of the chicken house. Out of the chicken door. Which is 9x16 inches. He was very mellow, gave me a nod as if to say, "What's up, buddy?" and strolled casually out of the chicken yard, chewing his cud of layer mash. I was stunned or I would have smacked him or hollered at him or made a fuss. It was like watching clowns come out of a circus car. Or a butterfly put of a cocoon. (OK, a big butterfly out of a tiny cocoon, chewing expensive food that could kill it.)
So tonight I installed a goat-repelling hobbit door on the chicken house.
|After. The guineas inspected it carefully.|
|The little guy decided it was OK.|
|The oldest keets are roosting outside now – after that cat killed one of them in the chicken house.|
|Smokey is spending afternoons in the lobster pot.|