This week I expanded my Fellow Creechure Horizons, an made some great new frens who live at a pretty place with a fish pond an lotsa trees, called Frick an Frack Farm. (I KNOW, Cool Kibbles, right?)
A nice lady greeted me an my assistant an led us out to a fenced paddock with several liddle sheds with doors. Standin’ together, noses over the gate, were two light brown donkeys. (I knew they were donkeys cuz I’d met one buh-for an made the fox paw of thinkin’ she was a liddle horse. Woof, did she set me straight preddy quick. It was embarrassin’, but I sure learned what a donkey was. She also said sometimes they’re called asses but she personally didn’t pruh-fur that.)
“Good morning,” I said. “I’m Bonzo.”
“I’m Jenny,” the paler donkey said softly. “An this” (the nice lady) “is our Momma, Tamara.
Our Dad is Stacy. He’s workin’. An this is my son, Jack. Welcome to our farm.” She nudged Jack. “What do we say to our guests?”
He looked up shyly an said, “Umm, we say, umm, welcome to our home Mr., umm, Bonzo. We’re Very Pleased to meet you.”
“Thank you, Jack. A pleasure to meet you as well.”
“We came here from a petting zoo,” said Jenny. “Now, you MUST meet the others.”
As Jack an Jenny wandered away, their Momma produced a pail of cracked corn, opened the gate, flapped her arms like wings (a chiggen greeting), an rattled the pail. Immediately a flurry of CHIGGENS came shootin’ outta the liddle sheds, through the gate, flappin’ their wings in return, feathers fluffed, bobbin’ side-to-side. They were Very Spruce: some white, others bright gold/orange. They had floppy red decorations on their heads, an some also on their chins.
Right behind ’em was a VERY BIG GOOSE (a good bit taller than me), white, with brownish wings an tummy, looong, snakey-lookin’ neck, dark pointy beeek, a Very Important-lookin’ forehead, an orange feet like ducks have, with all the toes attached to each other, sorta like a spatula, I thought. I didn’t haff to even ask. I KNEW this dude was in charge. I was impressed (anna little intimidated).
He spread his wings regally, then whooshed them back to his sides, an looked down at me. “Good morning. Welcome, on behaff of all of us here at the farm. I am Flop Darress, Offi-shull Spokesgoose and Protector of The Flock.”
“Good morning, Flop,” I said, as the chiggens bobbed by. “I’m eager to learn how you found this cool place.”
“Well,” Flop explained, “all the chiggens an ducks arrived here still in their eggs. They were hatched in Momma an Dad’s bathtub!”
“Wha-at?” I exclaimed. “No Woof?”
“Abso-honkin’-lutely,” he replied. “Of course, they had comfy blankets and it was nice an warm. I myself came from a store called Tractor Supply. They offen have heaps of baby chiggens, ducks an geese inna big container. My cousin Abby works there an told Mamma about us, so Momma came an chose ME an my sister when we were just a coupla days outta our eggs. I’m a Chinese Goose, called a KNOB Goose, cuzza this knob on our foreheads, you probly noticed.”
I had. “It’s very impressive!”
Flop’s Momma gathered him up in her arms, an patted him gently. He nuzzled her, his long legs dangling. After a liddle conversation, she set him gently down.
“I am a bit of a House Goose, ackshully. I climb up the back deck stairs an go inside Upside Down House.” Noticin’ my puzzled expression, he explained, “It’s called that cuz the living room and stuff are on the second floor an the sleepin’ rooms are on the bottom. I sit on the couch with Momma an nap, or hang out in the kitchen when she’s makin’ breakfast. I walk with her to collect the mail, an sometimes nibble her toes, to let her know I appreciate her an Dad.
“The very first night after Momma brought me home I fell asleep snuggled on her neck. We Totally bonded,” Flop shared. “It’s called imprinting.”
“Imprinting. That’s intresting. I didn’t know that,” I said.
Just then, a gold chiggen sauntered (yep, sauntered) up. He was maybe haff the size of the other chiggens, but with Serious Swagger.
“Yo, Flopman, who’s the pooch?”
“This is Bonzo, a journalist. He’s writin’ about us. Bonzo, meet Buddy. He’s a bantam rooster. He can fly, which is very rare for chiggens. AND he’s quite the Chick Magnet.”
“Bonzo, hey? So how ya doin’, Dog? Like Flopman says, all the hens love me. What can I say?
If ya got it, ya got it.”
Buddy headed off toward the cluster of hens, an I noticed a pair of black-an-white ducks, standin’ together: In the sunlight, their heads shone a very dark green. “Who are those two?”
I inquired. “Nice colors.”
“That’s Frick an Frack. They’re Mallards,” Flop replied. “Good lookin’ liddle quacks, an don’t they know it!”
“So, Flop, you said you’re Flock Protector. What’s that about?”
“It’s wonderful here, but not without Dangers: Dive-bombin’ hawks by day, prowling bobcats at night. I make sure everybody’s safely in the coop buh-fore dark. The ducks are most vulnerable during the day when they’re at the pond, ’specially on Spa Day when they’re all takin’ Dirt Baths.
“Truth be told, Bonz, this job is personal for me: A bobcat got my sister last year.
Watchroosters Buddy and Rudy crowed, I was honkin’, Jack was brayin.’ Momma took care of the situation, but it was too late.”
“I’m so sorry, Flop,” I managed.
“So,” he continued, “we watch 24/7. At night, Jack patrols. To help the chiggens go to sleep, Momma sings a song called ‘Feed the Birds.’ They nod off right away.”
Headin’ home, I was thinkin’ about my Kool Kibbles new frens, imagining what it’d be like to live onna farm. Fun an excitin’ for sure. but me, I’m mostly an indoor pooch. An EasyChair Potato. Writing about fellow pooches’ lives is excitement enuff for me.
Till next time,
