Dear Ferret Folks-

Recently my Hubby and I went away for a week of vacation, leaving
behind our good friend Val who had agreed to stay at our house and
look after all of the critters. It's a tall order. There is Loki, the
Australian Shepherd who seems perpetually coked up. Well, you would
too if the first year of your life was spent in a crate for 20+ hours
a day, living with idiots in a two-bedroom studio. Now she is free and
living with us, and she is making up for lost time by power-romping
every minute that she can get. We also have Sterling, the Silver Cat,
fourteen chickens, eleven baby turkeys, a fish tank and of course,
Todd and Caff-Pow. Add to that a variety of houseplants and you have
a truly challenging house-sitting scenario.

Things began well enough. Loki stole and ate two pounds of uncooked
whole wheat spaghetti. These excesses of hers no longer astonish us,
but Val was somewhat taken aback. Val does not much like dogs, but
thoughtfully left our back door open a bit during the day while she
was away so that Loki could come and go as she pleased while Val was
working. It never occurred to her that *other* things could come and
go as well.

Val came home one evening and Loki was particularly agitated, even for
Loki. She kept running circles around Val and whining. Generally that
means that Loki is trying to "herd" someone to alert them to a problem.
Being a shepherd herding people is one of her natural behaviors. It
generally means "I want you to come look at something, and I am going
to push you there to see it." Val did not understand. She just thought
that this was one more of Loki's peculiar behaviors, like stealing and
chewing spatulas. Even clean ones. I cannot hold onto spatulas for any
length of time. Spatulas are cheap. Good thing. Val became irritated by
the whining and the energetic display. She walked past the ferret cage
and into the guest room, where she tucked into an early bed. Loki was
left to jump up on our bed alone and sulk herself to sleep.

Well, sleep ended rather violently at three in the morning when the
silence was shattered by a series of REALLY LOUD rooster calls.
ER-RER-RER, RER REEEERRRR!!!....I mean really, really loud. Like, Val
couldn't believe how loud. Afraid that some predator was bothering the
chickens, so ran past the ferret cage and out the back door into the
faint dawn glow in the east in her nightgown to the hen house in the
back yard. She opened the little door, but no chickens came out. She
could hear them moving around in there, could see them dimly through
their dusty window, but they remained stubbornly inside. She was
baffled. They always compete to see who gets out first. Usually the
pushy Barred Rock hen wins. And Val could still hear, a bit more
faintly now ER-RER-RER, RER REEEERRRR!!!....ER-RER-RER, RER
REEEERRRR!!!....ER-RER-RER, RER REEEERRRR!!!....

Val walked back into the house wondering what the hell was wrong and
how she was going to have to explain this to us. Something was terribly
awry. The awful crowing stopped for a bit. Again, she walked past the
ferret cage which stands about four feet tall in the living room. And
then...ER-RER-RER, RER REEEERRRR!!!....Right into her face at ear
shattering volume. Much to Val's astonishment my excellent rooster,
Three Bucks was sitting on top of the ferret cage and giving her *the*
most pissed off, puffed up look that you can possibly imagine from a
mere eighteen inches away. His arcing bottle green tail feathers
trembling in outrage, he stood up to his full hight and let her have
it again. ER-RER-RER, RER REEEERRRR!!!....He glared at her with his
red eyes, stood up even a little taller and let her have it again.
ER-RER-RER, RER REEEERRRRRRRRR!!!....Val did not tell us how she
reacted. Knowing her as I do, I suspect she screamed *almost* as loud
as the rooster. When she regained her wits she opened up the back door.
Three Bucks gave several thumping flaps and jumped onto the floor. Then
he calmly walked outside and over to the hen house. He crowed again,
and all the hens came thundering out the little door, stepping on one
another in their haste to be united with their mighty protector. Yes,
Three Bucks is a fine figure of a rooster, with sharp two inch spurs.
He loves his wives dearly, and watches over them all day long.

I try to imagine this all from Todd and Caff-Pow's perspective. At some
point the day before a HUGE CHICKEN had walked into the house and the
back door must have shut somehow. The rooster looked for the highest
point in the house and settled in for the night. As in, roosting. The
hoomin had walked right past the HUGE CHICKEN on top of their cage
who knows how many times. The dog tried to get her to look. Todd and
Caff-Pow danged near shredded the underside of the cardboard box on top
of their cage that I store newspaper in, and occasionally the odd HUGE
CHICKEN. Todd is afraid of chickens, but Caff-Pow looooves chickens.
Loves them. baked, fried, BB-Q'ed, live, dead, he doesn't care. He just
wants him some chicken. And the biggest chicken in his universe spent
the night overhead, juuuust out of reach. Caff-Pow could smell the
chicken, hear the chicken, feel the chicken moving about on top of the
newspapers. But could tell no one with opposable thumbs who might be
able to open a barred door and let him AT the chicken!

I wish that Caff-Pow was truly able to type and tell you this story
from *his* perspective. I don't doubt that his re-telling would far
surpass mine, but this is the best that I can do. I do not doubt that
he is *still* pissed off. And who can blame him? He is, after all, a
weasel, and weasels and chickens have long enjoyed a very special
relationship.

One more time:
ER-RER-RER, RER REEEERRRR!!!....

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 7101]