RIP Malcolm; More Competence

 It's been a helluva day.
Started out OK - I actually got up soon after breakfast because I knew I was covering an afternoon shift at work today and I wanted to tackle the dryer.
I had noticed recently that the dryer was not really doing its job.  It was taking something like 2 hours to dry a load of laundry.  Well, it's old.  But what a pain - I did not feel like going dryer shopping, and the hassle of delivery (no matter how many times we tell them, they never send the smaller delivery truck, only the big one that can't make it up our driveway).

I analyzed the problem.  The tumbler was working.  The clothes were getting hot.  They just weren't getting dry.  To me - that sounds like an air circulation problem.  So this morning I pulled the dryer out . . .

Yuck.  I have a hard enough time keeping the middle of the room clean; I don't go looking in hidden places.  But that dryer hadn't been moved out in years, and it was a rather nasty looking archaeological site back there.  But I got it cleaned up, and then down to the business of removing the exhaust hose and cleaning it out.  And there was the problem - there was enough lint there to make it look like a family of guinea pigs had moved in.  I got it all cleaned out and put back together, and now it works fine.  Pleased as I was at my own competence, there was still that bit of wistful sadness that this didn't used to be my job.

I was multitasking.  While I was working on there dryer, I was roasting some vegetables.  After I finished the dryer, I took the trimmings and scraps out to the chickens.  And there, in the corner, was the mangled remains of my rooster Malcolm.  Somewhere in the 2 1/2 hours between my letting them out into the scratch yard this morning, and going out with their treats, something got in and killed him (and partially ate him).  Likely raccoon.

He was a lovely bird; I don't think that I ever got a good picture of him.  A Rhode Island Red, but with the "frizzle" gene, so that all of his feathers were twisted and curled and fluffed around him when he walked.  Unlike some roosters, he was never vicious.  The only time he would threaten to jump me was when I had to grab one of the hens.  I don't think he ever ate any of the treats that I would toss to them; instead, he would cluck and peck at them and call his girls over.

I gave him his funeral, then started going over the scratch yard trying to find any loose board or gap in the wire that would have let the raccoon in.  Then I had to go to work for a few hours.  When I came home, I inspected and tightened up things more.  Finally, I fed the cats, showered, and ate.

So I'm really tired now.  And sad.  Malcolm (so named because he liked to roost in the middle of the girls) was such a good rooster, and he died defending his ladies.  While you don't need a rooster (hens will lay eggs anyway) it just seemed more natural to have him with his little harem.  I'll miss his crowing.  And, of course, now I'm going to worry that something will get the girls.  That's why they're locked up safe at night, when the predators normally hit.  But it's baby season now, so the mothers are hunting all the time.  I don't blame them - animals have to eat - but I thought they were safe.