So, I put on my farm shoes, keep on my pajamas, don't bother with my glasses or my hair or my teeth, and go out to a-feed the cats, b-give the horses hay, and c-open the door to the Taj Ma Cluck, our uber cute chicken/duck/guinea shack. And that's when it happened. The fowl came rolling out around me, like I was the stone in the stream. They raced down the bank, the chickens intent on cat food, the guineas intent on trees, the ducks intent on the pond. Except for the teal-headed male duck. It seems, he was rather intent on a hen. That's right, a chicken. And she didn't seem to mind him so much. And right in front of me, no modesty, I swear, they did the deed, the down and dirty, the wild thing. It was hot drake on hen action. Inter-species mating in action. Until another hen saw, and she flew all over that duck like he was satan, she saw him as the sinner he was and pecked without mercy. But by this point, it didn't matter, in the words of Ray Stevens "It was too late, she'd already got a free shot."
And how was your Saturday?