10jun25

For the second time in twenty years of rehoming rescue chickens, we have a bad batch. One already dead, one having to be kept indoors for two weeks while we see if the medication works, the third outside with the surviving chicken from the previous cohort but getting their water dosed. This happens. The last time we got a bad batch, my partner got into conversation with another rehomer at the next pickup, and he had genetic testing done on his because he couldn’t work out why they all dropped dead or lived sick for weeks and months. Turned out that whole flock that was rehomed was fucked at a genetic level.

Finished filling one of these last night. 64-page Passport sized lined notebook. You can find them on Amazon (UK) (US+) but I bought a stack from Temu of all places. Stapled, rather than the nice stitched ones Wanderings sell, but the paper is actually great, and since I generally burn through one every few weeks, it made sense to buy in bulk.

The main whiteboard is too full – I’ve been working too slowly of late. It doesn’t help that I’m filling notebooks with ideas for new schemes that would require me to generate an extra few thousand words a week.

Okay, I’ve just drooled coffee down a fresh shirt. Maybe I need to slow down.