Captain’s Log – Early Mornings

Excuse me, could someone please come get their weather? This is ridiculous. 

My kids in North Dakota are warmer than we are this morning. My nose hairs are frozen. My fingers are frozen – yes, I was wearing gloves. And my toes are frozen. Never mind the flip-flops over my wool socks.

The water bottles in the bunny shed are not, however, frozen. So, we are enjoying that continued success. 

The outside chickens appear not to be bothered by these temperatures. They are snuggled every night in their little cubbies and appear as happy as they can be. The bunny shed chickens seem a little more spoiled, though, and were quite stirred up this morning by the time I let them out.

It is pretty normal for Chester the Spectacular to be loudly calling the sun from inside the shed starting about 4 a.m., but as I filled a bucket with chicken scratch, a strange squall had me on high alert.

At first, I could not even tell where it was coming from, but it was not a normal yard sound – not a rooster, not a kitten, not a hunting owl.

Finally, the realization dawned that it was coming from inside the bunny shed, but something was off. This noise was offensive to the nerves and dreadfully off-key from the two-part rooster harmony. It was a cat, after all – the desperate plea of a rowdy boy cat trapped with fowl and small mammals overnight had me off guard for a minute. Not a sound I was expecting at all.

Apparently, Mikey was hunting in the shed when I locked everyone in. He spent the night with five hens, two roosters, and eleven bunnies, emerging fairly insulted and covered in rabbit pellets and wood shavings.

Mikey and Hector, the formerly sweet little kittens, have gotten QUITE large all of a sudden, and they do not always come in every night – they have turned into really good hunters, and sometimes they are still on the prowl when I turn in at my old lady bedtime.

They are now at that funny stage where one minute they will be stalking a bird bigger than they are, and the next they are in my lap on the fake fur blankey, purring loudly as they “nurse” on a chunk of the fur and kneed their big ol’ paws into my leg like it is a momma cat.

My pretty white, faux fur TJ Maxx lap blanket has these funny tufts where some kitten was working through whatever psychology resulted from being orphaned at the Sorensen farm earlier than he should have been.

So, while we navigate the early mornings at The Boyer Bunny Ranch, strange noises and all, we’ll still be right here… 

…Keeping you Posted. 

Rach.