On my walk this morning, I saw a hen with a brood of 9 chicks and a turkey hen with a clutch of 7. There was one maverick in the turkey group. Mama was trying to watch out for him, but he won't be long for this world if he doesn't learn to keep up on his own.
The other day, I learned that there are people who have the gift of telling the difference between male and female chickens shortly after birth with as high as 90% accuracy. This is not an easy task. My question is, how many of the baby chicks I saw are male? How many of them will wind up adding to the noise in the neighborhood?
The other thing I saw this morning was regular traffic. The state opened up. I had an appointment with my hairdresser yesterday. I had called her earlier this week to check. She said, no, she was not open yet. I would say I should not be first on the list. Some people lost their appointment in March and are seriously overdue. Some clients need to go back to work and would prefer not to look like they've been living in a cave for the last month. I have no place to go until Bikram opens up until school starts up next August.
I texted Sandor to tell him I was getting flashes of ultraviolet blue. At first, I thought I was actually seeing something in my neighbor's yard. However, a few repeats of those flashes convinced me that it might be unlikely. Sandor told me to come in at noon on Friday.
Today I had several chores. First, I had to find my driver's license. I gave it to Yvette to confirm my identity when she went to the bank to cash some checks I'd received. The bag with the license, checkbook, and cash were sitting on the library floor for its three-day quarantine. Next, I will check if the car still works after sitting for a while.
It rained moderately hard but briefly just before Elsa and I went on our before-dinner walk. By the time we got out, there were dry spots in the driveway. While I felt nothing, I could see fine droplets illuminated by the setting sun. It 'rained' like that during our whole walk. It was rainbow rain. I saw a faint one through the cloud. I was ever so slightly damp when I got home, but I never felt a single drop hit my skin.
As I watched TV, I finally opened the two-gallon spray bottle I bought several months ago.
I went to bed late. I had to watch the end of the last session of Unforgotten. Few shows hold my attention these days. This show did it. Not violent, very civilized. Much to my taste.
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