Hypocracy Reigns Supreme

The sun was bright and high in the sky as I turned the compost pile today.  I find few things more satisfying for releasing aggression (not that I have any, of course) than turning a pile of garden refuse, kitchen waste and office paper into food for the garden.  As I stuck my pitchfork into the pile, I heard a squeak… and froze.  Pulling a little dried grass away from the surface, I found a tiny, eyes-not-yet-opened… baby rat.  And after another shuffle of a little more grass, it’s brothers or sisters.  Four of them.  All blindly scrambling for warmth into each other and trying to avoid the sudden light into their little burrow.  Do I need to say out loud how cute they were?

So it’s official.  I’m a hypocrite.  I could.  Not.  Kill.  The Babies.  And yet, I will absolutely eat meat that is packaged in one way, shape or form.  Hey, even local meat has to come in a package.  Even my own chickens.  Can’t kill ’em.  Would if I HAD to, but don’t, so can’t bring myself to do it.

The worst part is that two days later I go out to check on the hens and the coop.  I putz around in the coop for awhile, cleaning, tucking up the hawk netting and checking their water.  There were seven eggs in the coop and I figured I’d wait an hour or two to make sure no one else wanted to lay.  Less than two hours later I head back to the coop only to discover no eggs, no trace of eggs.  None.  The hens didn’t get them because I can’t see one single trace of egg yolk or shell.  But rats could have rolled them through the big hole I discover in a corner of hay.  What do I do?  March straight up to the shed for the rat poison to kill the suckers dead for getting my eggs.

Annie
Okay, so I’m a Gemini and the twins are alive and well

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