Bunches of downy feathers greeted me outside the chicken coop, scattered as in a wind whisper of a seedy dandelion head. Only sweet nothings were not the message; rather, upon checking in on the lady layers, I discovered four were missing. That verdict quickly changed to dead as I scanned the surrounding fields. Another pile of feather over yonder . . . and what’s that? a Rock? nope, a chicken body. Due to the severed head and uninjured body, friends in the know about these sorts of things declared Round One Victory for vampire weasel. 
Yes, I laughed too. My parents came to visit that very day and we set ourselves to ’securing’ the coop. Whatever one has in mind to keep out foxes, apparently a weasel is more nimble. Seeing as he or she (probably a hungry mama, no?) managed to half our flock in one moonlit spree, we did our best. Old barn stalls require fortification. Pictures coming soon of said defense system.
With the lovely 60s-ish day Dad and Lana joined us here at Iron Wood Farm, Michael and I put them to work. Wood cabinet doors were re-glued, raspberries planted and mulched, seed potatoes halved and dug in, and rock garden work begun. When life gives you rocks, I say create rock gardens.
Get out and plant your sweet snow peas!
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