I never knew chickens could speak English … until last night.
At exactly 2:49 am I was woken to the sound of a screamed “help, HELP”.
It was coming from outside and I realised it was one of my chooks …and that the dark shape slinking around their cage was a fox.

(well at first I fixed my myopic eyes on  what I thought was the fox only to discover that it was just a shadow and the actual fox was sitting much closer to the window I was looking out of).

Their cage is really quite sturdy
chook house med

…and yet I worried about my hens.
So I did what any self-respecting woman would do in the middle of the night – I poked hubby until he woke up and told him to go and sort out the kerfuffle.

So her turned on the flood lights and went back to bed … ’cause you know how much foxes hate floodlights right????

Apparently they aren’t too bothered by floodlights because it was back within minutes.  This time I had a good view of it poking a paw through the mesh to try and hurt my beloved Henrietta.

So I poked hubby in the side yet again.

This time hubby barricaded the cage.

He was asleep within minutes but I spent an hour listening for sneaky Mr Fox to come back …. thankfully he didn’t and the hens were OK.

But why I’m sharing this story is because of my 6 yo beautiful, loving daughter’s reaction:

“Mum, I’m going to trap the fox tonight.  Then I’ll spear it do death with a stick, chop off its tail and bum it over the fence”


I’ve raised a psychopath!

(No idea why she wants its tail and not really sure what “bumming it over the fence” means either).

Strange child must take after her father…..


Sorry I’ve been so quiet

I’ve been studying for my Dip Ed you see.

Working hard. As my brother has said, its the first time in my life when I’ve actually had to *study* for something instead of pulling stuff our of my arse like I usually do.

Its been worth it though (warning – shameless bragging follows):

So far I’ve submitted 3 assignments and received a 6+ (didn’t know you could get a “+” , a  solid 6 and a *7*  (the scale runs from 1-7 with grades under and including 3 being failing grades and then increasing from a pass (4) to a credit (5), a distinction (6) and a high distinction (7) …
So I’m one fairly happy girl right now.
At least I would be if I could stop dreaming about Essential Learnings and sequencing lessons on time measurements for maths…… (yep – I’m fun like that).

In other news, Dad had his MRI today. No results yet, but he said he could hear the clunking in his head for hours after the test was over.
Please God let the tumour be small like they think it is…..

update on Dad

Thanks Magic Quilter for asking about my Dad.

I’ve been meaning to write an update but am not really sure where to start.

The good news is that the cancer is very slow growing.  the other good news is that the really bad balance was caused by an ear infection and not the tumour.  The other good news is that the chance of fitting is very slim so Dad can still drive (he’s not a bad driver at all).

The bad news is that an operation probably won’t fix anything and has a 20% chance of causing a stroke … and Dad is a good candidate for a stroke.

The neurosurgeon has said its 50-50 as to whether he’ll operate as there’s every chance that it won’t cause any further effects for another 10 years … which will make dad about 84…. and there’s a fair chance that Dad could end up worse off.


Nobody will really know until after an MRI which isn’t for another couple of weeks AND a visit with an ENT specialist to see if there’s any other considerations to help make the decision on risk of op Vs risk of leaving tumour alone.

I think Dad is leaning towards not having the surgery and I can’t say I blame him.  Still, he’s waiting to see what the results of the MRI and the ENT guy say before making a final decision.

BUT a big thank you to everyone for your kind thoughts and prayers.  I know I’ve been slack in responding, but I’ve really been avoiding thinking how I feel about it all.  Its the realisation that my parents are starting to get old. My family has good genes for living well into their 90s so its a bit of a shock for me to have to consider that a man of 74 can be considered “old”.

My Dad

has an acousitc neuroma.

If you are going to get a brain tumour, this is the one to have ….apparently.

…and given that the symptoms include going deaf, having raging tinnitus, being wobbly on your pins, and periodically complaining of motion sickness *whilst not actuality in a vehicle* and hurling your guts up we probably should have worked out that he had a problem many years ago.

Dad’s been deaf in one ear for years.  But aside from a complete inability to whisper and a penchant for only catching half a conversation, we thought it just went with the territory of having worked with noisy equipment for half his life.

The tinnitus?  …same thing.

The dodgy pins?  Well he tore the ligaments off his left knee about 8 years ago so no wonder he was getting a bit wobbly.  Not to mention the three rounds of major abdominal surgery he had last year making him a bit weak.

But now that I really look at him and not tune out when he whinges* about stuff I am noticing that he’s really *really* dodgy on his pins:

  • He couldn’t walk up the hill to our front steps last week and that never used to bother him.
  • He was walking around the front of my car as I reversed out the driveway a few weeks back and he had to grab the wall of the house so as not to fall over.  I thought he was still struggling a bit from the major surgery he had at Christmas time … but as it turns out he’d been looking at my car as he was walking and as soon as his point of reference started moving, his balance gave way.

Tomorrow, he sees the neurosurgeon. I’m hoping and praying that the news is all positive.  I hate to ask again, but please keep any spare prayers and good thoughts flowing in the direction of my Dad.

*He does go on about his health like a hypochondriac … but annoyingly when he says things like “I think my bowel is blocked” or “I think I have a brain tumour” … he is actually right … I mean there’s no family-humour-pay-out-on-him value in that.

Cancer is complete CRAP

Open letter to Cancer:

Please remove your  fucking blight from my family.

We are sick if the sight of you.

You killed my father-in-law in 2007.

You scared the living shit out of me and my cervix in 2007 with your damn “lesions”.

You took a great fucking chunk out of my father’s bowel in 2008.

You *stole* my mother-in-law earlier this year,

…and now you give my father a brain tumour ???????

Keep your filthy hands off him – you’ve already had your share of my family.


More adventures in wildlife rescue

So you know how I was brutally savaged by a suicidal possum last week right??   Well I’ve had to rescue another poor, misguided terrorist creature from being brutally slaughtered by us humans and our enormous vehicles.

Just call me Ranger Mandy…..

Once again, I was driving home from school drop-off when I spied the poor, wee, dazed thing.  It was swaying by the roadside,  mesmerised by the cars speeding by.   I was pretty sure it hadn’t been struck, but its hard to tell with these cases (apparently).

But this time I was prepared.  I got a towel from the boot of my car, and also my camera to try and at least get a live shot for my blog this time (we all know how unattractive photos of dead animals can be after the last adventure of Mandy, the Roadside Rescuer).

But the tiny terrorist creature was ready for me.  It fixed its crazed, beady eyes on me and drew itself up to its full height before launching itself at me with the cry “eeee I kill you” before I got a chance to don welding gloves and chuck a towel over it.

(It seems nobody told the wildlife to be nice to rescuers.  They all seem to share some weird thing about trying to kill the hand that helps.)

Anyway, I backed off  – hey  – I learned my lesson about picking up small animals after the possum incident.

I managed to shoo the small creature off the road fairly easily, but first managed to capture a single shot to show my dear bloggy friends the dangers a dedicated wildlife rescuer must face:


(OK – to anyone who’s ever so slightly offended by this, before you sic PETA on my butt, please realise that I am deadly serious about wildlife and cars not mixing.  Also note that I intended this post to go out on April 1 at 6am but forgot to set the auto publish thing, and only just noticed it sitting in my drafts pile, and since I’m a) lazy and b) haven’t had much time to blog lately, I thought I’d post it anyway even tough its a couple of days late).