Meet Jasmine, she’s raising her babies in my chicken coop. She isn’t afraid of me, and the hens are pretty sure she’s just a goofy looking long-eared chicken. Home is where you’re comfortable, safe, and a place where nobody cares if you’re wearin’ feathers or fur.
Apparently the unoccupied chicken coop I moved the hens to while the new barn is being built isn’t vacant after all. This morning I found these cute baby bunnies sharing living quarters with my ladies.
After planting a billion sunflower seeds the last surviving seedling has been devoured by rabbits. I have a rabbit problem here, they live and breed everywhere, in the hay room, under the feed shed, even the chicken coops. This morning a new litter of tiny bunnies were found under one of the chicken shelters.
I’m beginning to realize what I can plant and what’s a big waste of time. Cactus are never bothered, so I thought maybe all thorny vegetation would survive and planted a beautiful pink rose bush. Well yesterday morning it was nothing more than a near naked bald stick in the ground. Off to the shed I went and got four stakes and some chicken wire in hopes of saving it.
Pink rose stick bush
I hate chicken wire, handling this jagged and unruly material is like volunteering to bleed to death. By the time this unscheduled chore was complete the temperature was 95 degrees, my arms were half shredded and I was toast.
And another thing, why are wire cutters always substandard? I now have four pair, even the expensive ones work hardly better than if I chewed the wire off with my teeth. Ibuprofen should be shrink wrapped to this inadequate time consuming tendonitis causing tool. So all this drama for one little rose bush. Maybe I’m overlooking the obvious… perhaps my forte is raising rabbits, not gardens.