One day the poultry were having a fit. It wasn't thier "I found GOLD!" noise like when they found the worm beds or when we hand fed them bread from the day old bakery outlet, so out i went, curious to what had stirred them up. I knew it wasn't Dr. Suess AKA Hitler, a cochin who would get on the deck and strut back and forth, squawking until he had the rest in a frenzy then would hop down and strut through them like a dictstor. A rattler had made it's way into our yard and was just as scared and confused as they were it seemed. I grabbed a shovel with the intention of picking it up and putting it in a bucket so it could be released. Suddenly I noticed I was a lot closer than I wished to be to him. Tom, our huge Broad Breasted Bronze Turked was pushing his chest against the back of my legs and he peered around one and screamed encouragement to him. The snake didn't co-operated so I had to take it's little head off. But we ate the snake nd I made a hatband from its skin and the rattles went to my youngest son, so it's passing wasn't a total loss. Though regrettable.

Edited by Snake_Doctor (04/26/12 05:32 PM)