Beware of attack chicken

We have, residing here on the Unfarm, an attack chicken. This attack chicken's name is Gretchen and he (yes, you read that right - he) is our rooster. We named him as a chick when we were told that he was a she and the name just stuck. If you ask either my mom or I our opinion on said rooster you would be told that he is a fearsome defender of (almost) all of his lady hens but otherwise he is relatively harmless and even somewhat comical at times - performing his sidestepping shuffle dance for us in an attempt to either add us to his harem or show who is in charge, depending upon which theory you ascribe to. According to Dad, however, Gretchen is a "mean rooster" who attacks both frequently and without remorse. 

In looking at various threads on the backyardchickens.com website the main consensus seems to be that Gretchen's behavior is dominance based and that he should be culled from the flock. Well, that's just not how we roll around here - Gretchen is family and we just don't go around killing our family members. We just don't. And besides, it's not like Gretchen isn't good for anything. He does protect most of the ladies. Penny is the notable exception - we're not sure if it's because she is older than the rest of the chickens and so didn't grow up with Gretchen and his crew or if it is because she is sporting spurs on her legs - but whatever the reason, Penny is definitely lowest down in the pecking order and frequently gets picked on or chased by Gretchen and several of the other hens. 

Aside from his lack of protective instincts towards Penny, Gretchen is quite protective of all the other hens and no one is too big for Gretchen to go up against when it comes to someone bothering his ladies. Axel, the largest of the three dogs, grew up with chickens and cows on a farm somewhere before we rescued him from the shelter so he generally leaves the chickens alone. Scout and Molly, however, are another story. Scout thinks that the chickens are endlessly fascinating toys of some sort and they only want for the proper persuasion to get them to join in a rousing game of chase. Molly will chase almost anything that a) moves and b) is smaller than her. Being a chihuahua mix not many things fall under category b, although she will join Scout if he decides to chase the chickens. The chickens, for their part, squawk and flap their wings and tear around the yard in a highly disorganized manner that often leads them back into the path of the dogs. Hearing this commotion, Gretchen races to the rescue. He flies into the dog run and heads straight for whatever dog is closest and slams into their side, effectively drawing the attention away from the hens in order to give them time to make their escape from the dog run. The party is generally over at that point. The hens are gone and none of the dogs wants to tangle with Gretchen the attack chicken so for now the good outweighs the bad and Gretchen is staying where he is, "mean" or not.

Gretchen, our attack chicken

Cuddle time

Most of the animals here on the Unfarm are fairly self sufficient when it comes to going to sleep. The chickens put themselves away in their coop each night - even Lucy, who has stopped going into the Little Coop at night as abruptly, and mysteriously, as she started it. The ducks start nodding off as almost as soon as they get inside for the night and the mice curl themselves away in their little castle to sleep the day away. The rabbits sleep quite lightly but they do doze several times throughout the day and night. Cats are notorious for being good sleepers and ours are no exception, napping most of the day so that Maximus can spend the whole night upstairs playing while the dogs are out of the way in the bedrooms. And speaking of dogs, Molly and Axel can go to sleep whenever they feel like it - mostly when I am gone from the house and there is nothing else to hold their attention. Scout is another story. 

Scout is many things. He is high energy. He is fast. He is a ball thief at the dog park (because he is fast.) He is playful. And cute. And also really, really annoying when he is sleepy. Apparently he can't just go to sleep like everyone else. He must have someone there with him to cuddle up to. He is insistent. Very insistent. When he gets tired he finds someone and proceeds to make a pest of himself. If I am watching TV in the bunny room, Scout will try to crawl up onto the TV stand. Or my desk. Via my chair. If you are working at the dining room table he will try to crawl up onto the table, pushing your laptop out of the way until you give in and sit with him. On occasion, Scout has even tried to crawl onto me, putting his paws up on my shoulders and crawling into my lap. 

There is little else you can do but go and sit with him. And sometimes that is not even enough. In his quest to get close to you he will often sit not just next to you but actually on you. I got a text message the other day that said "look at your dog." Going out into the living room I found my brother on the couch with a 50 pound Scout sitting on his chest. If you are lying down he will try to sit on your head. 

This annoying behavior has been given the innocuous name of "cuddle time" and someone always draws the short straw and has to cuddle with Scout. If you choose not to you have to go into a room and close the door behind you, then listen to Scout as he scratches up the other side of the door trying to get in. Each scratch on the door is another one of your nerves being shredded until you just can't stand it anymore and you give in. Probably not the best way of dealing with him but the only way we have discovered so far. We keep wondering if perhaps he will outgrow this puppy-like behavior but at two and a half years old it isn't looking good as of yet.

Banana bread, and why Scout doesn't like it

Banana bread

The original recipe was found in the Pillsbury complete cook book and included 1/2 cup chopped nuts that I usually leave out.

3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened
2 eggs
2 medium bananas, ripe (if frozen, let thaw)
1/3 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease the bottom of a 9x5 or 8x4 inch loaf pan. Mix sugar and margarine in a large bowl and beat until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and beat well. Add the bananas, milk and vanilla and blend well. In a smaller bowl, combine flour, baking soda, and salt and stir well. Add the dry mixture to the banana mixture and stir just until the dry ingredients are moistened, then pour into your greased loaf pan. Bake for 55-65 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the loaf comes out clean. Cool 5 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool completely. Once cooled, wrap tightly and store in the refrigerator.

Our freezer is full of, among other things, a large collection of over ripe bananas. No longer suitable for eating plain they get tossed into the freezer until someone - usually me - decides to thin them out by making a batch or two (or three or four) of banana bread. That was the case a few days ago when I managed to fit a triple batch of banana bread into our mixer - just barely - and made up three loaves of banana bread that I left to cool on the counter. Naturally I took precautions - I pulled out the bread boards effectively pushing the banana bread to the back of the counter where Scout can't reach it. Unfortunately, Scout figured out that he could push the bread boards back in. Now we practice basic math: if you made three loaves of banana bread and you only see two sitting on the counter, how many loaves did your mischievious dog make off with? 

Yep, Scout got a whole loaf of banana bread and had eaten at least a third of it before he was caught red handed, and he had slobbered all over the rest of it so the whole loaf was ruined. It wasn't a total loss though - the chickens had a field day with the other half of the loaf. I have yet to discover who might be the mastermind of these kitchen raids - the chickens benefit nearly as often as Scout does. Whoever was behind it, the plan backfired for Scout. It seems that a large portion of banana bread consumed all at once does not do the digestive system any favors as Scout was gassy for days afterwards. The next day he was offered a small piece of banana bread as a treat but would not touch it, having apparently grown sick of it. But as Scout is a slow learner I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before the process repeats itself with some other treat from the kitchen - he has already gotten a third of a jar of peanut butter a couple of months ago. Until then we can at least pretend that he is a good boy. Right?

The nightly routine

It is no secret that dogs like to eat and that their palate is somewhat less sophisticated than ours with a taste for, among other things: cat poop, bunny poop, chicken poop... basically anyone's poop, liver, cat food, and fish oil. Along with their own food they also have a taste for duck food, which leads me to the nightly routine. After the dogs get their dinner the chickens get put away in the coop for the night and the ducks are brought in. Before bringing the ducks inside for the night we feed them dinner on the back deck: a bowl of water and a bowl of Purina duck chow. The dogs know this and wait impatiently at the kitchen door for me to bring the ducks inside. This is not because of some great love for the ducks and a strong desire to see them again after being separated all day. No, this is purely selfish on the part of the dogs. 

After I put the diapers on the ducks I scoop them up while they furiously paddle their little feet and we head to the back door. As soon as I get the door open six inches or so the dogs will force the door open the rest of the way and then I just stay out of the way as all three dogs burst through onto the back deck. They run right past the ducks and I as if we weren't even there and make a beeline for the duck bowls. Were Scout and Axel after the same thing we might have a problem but they complement each other perfectly because Axel heads straight to the water bowl and starts drinking while Scout grabs the food bowl and takes off. Scout picks up the bowl by the rim without tipping anything out and takes it across the deck to eat the water soaked duck chow in peace. Molly is left to clean up the scraps that fall onto the deck boards. Having eaten less than an hour ago I know for a fact that the dogs are not starving, they simply like the taste of watered down duck food. Go figure. I guess there's no accounting for taste.

The best seat in the house

This post is late by, like, a week because we've been hosting my cousin and having a craftapalooza here on the Unfarm. She only gets to come down from Seattle once a year or so since she is usually so busy with school so we like to cram as much arts, crafts, and tax free shopping in as possible which leaves very little time for blogging, checking email, or doing anything remotely responsible aside from taking care of the animals and even that didn't always get done - the dogs missed their walk on Wednesday. At any rate, here comes a post for you, short as it may be.

Scout likes chairs. And couches. And beds. And basically any soft spot. In the bunny room/my art studio/my office there are two chairs. One is a wooden desk chair and the other is an IKEA poang chair that I stole from the living room. Needless to say, the poang chair is by far the more popular one. It is springy and cushioned and comfortable and it was where I happened to be sitting last night when Scout came into the room. He stood around near me for a few minutes before he lost patience and used his muzzle to nudge my elbow a couple times. When I didn't respond he repeated himself, nudging my elbow again. Figuring he wanted something I stood up to find out what it was he needed. He immediately hopped into the chair and made himself comfortable. Turns out what he wanted was my seat. If Scout is in the room I usually have to content myself with the desk chair because Scout will inevitably want to sit in the poang chair. But saying no to those puppy dog eyes is nearly impossible, and Scout is incredibly persistent so I may as well get used to it.

Scout curled up in the poang

Now it's my turn to limp

I was quite a hit today at the dog park. All the dogs kept coming up to me to sniff and then try to lick my knees. Unfortunately it was not because I had smeared myself with peanut butter but because I had smeared myself with Neosporin after having a run in with the sidewalk last night. In case you are wondering, the sidewalk won. We were walking the dogs in the evening and two things joined forces against me: the uneven sidewalk and gravity, assisted by the hill we were walking down. I tripped and before I could do anything my knees were taking most of the force of the fall. 

After hobbling home with blood dripping down my legs I got to spend the next half hour cleaning the scrapes. A shower didn't do the job sufficiently so I had to endure betadine and hyrogen peroxide washes and then cotton swab scrubbing and poking with tweezers to get all the little bits of gravel out. I can't think of a more enjoyable way to spend an evening. Oh wait, yes I can. 

While yesterday hurt I am sure it is only the beginning because as the wounds heal and scab over it will hurt every time I bend my knees. And knees, as we all know, bend often. It's pretty much all they do. Lucky me.

On a more positive note, Scout finally saw a bone specialist and he said that Scout's limp is nothing to be concerned about. Possibly some elbow dysplasia but it shouldn't stop Scout from going on walks or playing at the dog park, much to Scout's delight. At least one of us is on the mend.

Limping back to the vet

As always tends to happen here on the Unfarm, no sooner has one pet gotten back from the vet than another one heads in. This time it is Scout, who is limping. Again. Last time it was his right leg and this time it is his left and in both cases the blood work came back with a high eosinophil level while the x-rays came back clean and the anti-inflammatory medication has no effect which means we need to see a specialist. Which means more money. Our vet's office recently remodeled and added another exam room, a project I am sure was funded mostly by the Unfarm; they really should have just named the new wing after us.

In this case there is no end in sight yet to the vet visits for Scout. First up is an expensive test (surprise, surprise) to rule out Addison's disease. Should that come back negative we have to schedule a visit with an orthopedic specialist who may recommend injections for a month that we would have to learn how to give. So in addition to being able to pill a duck and collar a chicken I would be able to add "inject a dog" to my list of accomplishments. The fun never stops around here. I'll keep you posted.

Another one bites the dust

The population of Scout's toy box is steadily declining. Stuffed animals, frisbees, and rope toys have all become endangered species around here. Apparently, the most entertaining part of a toy is not shaking it or chasing after it but actually pulling the stuffing out of it to reach the squeaker inside. Watching the toy box progressively get emptier I grew concerned that our puppy would become bored and move on to the destruction of less appropriate things like, say, the couch. Knowing that if that were to take place Scout himself would become the endangered species I came up with what I thought was a genius solution. I bought a package of tube socks and a bag of stuffing and stuffed each sock with the stuffing and a squeaker and then sewed the top closed. Voila! A bunch of new toys. This should last him a while. Right?

It took Scout all of an hour to figure out that these new toys were perfect for tug of war. As soon as he could convince Axel to play with him the two of them were squared off, each trying to rip the sock away from the other. More than winning the sock, the real appeal of this game appears to be the sound of the sock ripping open and the sight of the stuffing falling all over the living room floor. Now not only is the toy box population still decreasing, but we are cleaning the living room daily of fluff and squeakers and ripped up socks. I think that I am going to have to break down and buy new toys made of tougher stuff or risk finding pieces of the couch strewn about the living room.

Hang ten

Scout is a professional surfer. Counter surfer, that is. At this point he could win pro-surfing competitions with all the practice he's had. And Scout is not shy about his surfing. He will do it right in front of us if he thinks there is something worth going after on the counter. His regular raiding runs have netted him several prizes already including, but not limited to: an entire container of dog treats, a hot dog bun, cookies, bread, a variety of lids to a variety of containers, plastic bags containing or previously containing food, the top to a thermos for Mom's tea, plastic water bottles, dog toys, training treats, half a jar of peanut butter, an entire cube of butter including the wrapping, and his latest prize: a bottle of fish oil for the cat's food. Much to his disappointment I caught him red handed and confiscated the smelly item, but not before he chewed several holes in the bottle and spilled fish oil all over the living room carpet. This was, presumably, a tactic to ensure he would have some for later, like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. He spent the next hour licking fish oil out of the carpet, even after Mighty Mouth - our industrial carpet cleaner - tackled the mess. What remains from Scout's counter surfing is the unpleasant aroma of fish permeating the house, and several large stains all over the carpet. 

This was obviously not Scout's first misadventure with counter surfing and I'm sure it won't be his last. Case in point: just a few days ago I found a chewed up bottle prescription bottle and several pills scattered on the living room carpet. This pill bottle was previously a resident of the kitchen counter and we have never made a practice of storing our medications scattered across the floor. Clearly Scout had been at work again, and this time it cost us $65 to call the animal poison control emergency line to make sure that Scout had not inadvertently poisoned himself with Molly's Prozac. (He had not, although he was rather more sleepy for the rest of the day than a ten month old puppy should be, which was actually a nice change for us all.) As much as we try to keep items that may be of value to Scout out of his reach, he has a habit of turning lemons into lemonade and finding a purpose for anything he encounters in the kitchen, whether it is edible or not. Non edible items make great chew toys, after all. It would not surprise me if there was a sequel to this story.

Hello my name is Scout

In the several months that we have lived with Scout we have discovered several things:

1. Puppies are absolutely adorable but they don't stay that way for long. Pretty soon the little six pound, eight week old pup that was the picture of cuteness when he gently mouthed your slippers or jumped up to see you when you got home is a forty pound teenager who destroys your shoes in five minutes and pulls you down the street as he gasps and chokes at the end of the leash, making you look anything but in control (and let's face it - you're not.) On the plus side, he pees outside most of the time now so let's celebrate the small victories.

2. The grass is always greener. Scout has come to the decision that any treat any other dog has is better than the one he's got and will complain bitterly about the injustice of life having served him up a treat (bone, rawhide chew, peanut butter filled Kong, etc) that is clearly sub par to the one that Axel and/or Molly have. After about five minutes of his incessant barking in the particular tone that we have come to learn can be translated as, "I want what they have! My treat isn't nearly as good as their treat and if I only had their treat I would be completely satisfied for the rest of my life!!" we will either take all the treats away or we will switch treats with Molly who generally couldn't care less what treat she has, so long as she has one. Scout is perfectly happy for about two minutes until he realizes that Molly now has his former treat and suddenly that treat is the best one and the process starts all over again. For Scout, the grass is always greener on the other side, or the other treat is always better than the one he's got.

Scout has been jealous of the other dogs treats from the beginning

3. Toys are awesome and toys with squeakers are even more so. Scout loves toys, the noisier the better. Apparently, the purpose of toys is to either A) interrupt dinner with the loudest squeaky toy in his arsenal by running in circles around the dining room table merrily squeaking away, or B) cover the living room floor with the stuffing from whatever toy has fallen victim to Scout's ruthlessness, leaving the sad, empty shell of the toy lying forgotten on the floor amid it's own innards.

4. The purpose of life. The purpose of life, according to Scout, is to eat treats. And he's not picky about our treats either - treats can, and do, include traditional dog treats: food, bones, Zuke's treats, cookies, rawhide chews, homemade dog treats, and any assortment of items found in the aisles of both Petsmart and Petco. But let's not overlook the benefit of nontraditional treats - peanut butter straight from the jar on the counter, regular butter from the [now broken] butter dish, cat food, pre-digested cat food (otherwise known as sand cookies around here on the Unfarm), duck food, chicken poo, duck poo, rabbit bunny berries (do you detect a pattern here? if it came out of any animal other than a dog it's fair game), plastic of any kind (water bottles and milk jugs are a particular favorite), and food of variety that gets left out on the counter.

5. Life is full of obstacles - it's how you deal with them that matters. Nontraditional treat inaccessible? Use your surroundings: Scout will crawl, climb, jump, and stand on tiptoes to get to what he wants.

Scout stands on my desk to look for treats

Scout searches for bunny berries in Jojo's hutch

6. Make yourself at home. Scout will turn almost any object into a chance to relax; the world is his pillow. Literally. He will sit on just about anything: beds, couches, rugs, carpets, Molly, Mom, Dad, me (especially when I am trying to get my shoes on for a walk), and - believe it or not - actual pillows.