Quack
is what I imagine the ducks said when they saw the fox/opossum/racoon/whatever coming at them last night. It translates to "Why the hell did that madwoman force us to sleep outside the safety of the coop and bed down with these disgusting goats?"
It's because they constantly spilled all the water out of the fonts which led to constantly wet bedding, which led to respiratory disease, which led to Coccidiosis, which led to five (six? more?) dead broilers, two more sick ones, and a sick layer. So far.
So. I put them out thinking that they'd be safe and the chickens would get better and here I am with no more ducks. Fuck fuck fuckityfuckfuck.
So. No more ducks. None more.
And where the fuck is the trapper, already?
2 comments:
aww, poor ducks.
I do feel bad for the ducks, but hey, if they were so inconsiderate to make the chickens sick, then they had what was coming to them (just kidding, losing the ducks is sad and kind of violent. Do the goats need some sort of therapy to get over the traumatization of watching fellow livestock get slain in the night? Maybe help stave off PTSD?)
You don't suck and you didn't mean for it to happen, obviously.
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