Captain's Log -- Picky Eaters No one eats their own food around here.

I just came in from feeding the menagerie and had to watch out the window for a bit as Clio picked through the rocks and gravel with the peacocks, high-grading the cat food I fling out across the yard because the beautiful birds just love it.

Since when do Great Danes prefer cat food to the fancy, high-end, system-sensitive dog food she's been getting since birth? But along that same line of thinking, why do the birds prefer cat food to the fancy, high-end game bird feed I tracked down and buy for them?

The chickens, too, love cat food, but they prefer Clio's fancy dog food. And then Clio will sneak behind me when I'm feeding the chickens (who are across the yard, pecking in dog food bowls) their painfully mixed concoction of laying pellets, corn, and scientifically formulated flax supplements, dunk her head in the bin, and scarf away while I'm not looking.

The bunnies eat a delicately balanced mixture of high-protein alfalfa pellets, Quaker oats, and black sunflower seeds, which the chickens absolutely love. Denise and Sophia immediately jump into that bin as soon as it's open, and I'll turn around to a bucket full of chickens, unable to scoop portions for the rabbits without having to pluck hens out one by one.

And then the goats—the stereotypes exist for a reason. Those girls eat anything, because, well... goats, I guess. They get a molasses-corn mixture and timothy hay, but I'm also trying to make them easy to handle, so I sit with them on a cinderblock in their pen, my pockets full of cut-up apples. They really don’t want to be my friends, but pocket apples turn them into silly, nudging, curious, and almost sweet little creatures. In addition to the apples, they also try to eat the paper plate, plastic bag, or jacket pocket, whatever receptacle I've used to transport the treats.

Thinking back on my child-rearing days, it's not really a surprise we have this Boyer Bunny Ranch Banquet. I was the mom (short-order cook) who whipped up whatever the little darlings wanted at mealtime. Pancakes, waffles, omelets, you name it. It was not unheard of, after gathering everyone from basketball, wrestling, and piano practice, to hit three separate fast-food joints on the way home to accommodate everyone's whims.

Just yesterday, I put in the Walmart delivery order at the shop and hollered across the office for what snacks everyone needed replenished. As I explained to our newest gal, "One of my favorite things in life is to cook for my people.” Nourish. Apparently, now that extends to my pets.

So, while we make room for another run to the feed store, we'll still be right here...

...Keeping you Posted.

Rach