Chicken horrors

The only wild rooster we couldn't catch and relocate is a guy I've dubbed Blackbeard, because of his thick and luscious chicken whiskers. He's too smart for the idiotic stick-and-basket traps we set, and after he managed to get 10 chicks under my hen, I gave up. He's a good chicken dad, even if he does have two other girlfriends he brings around for free food. 

So we thought it was Blackbeard who was crowing like an asshole on top of our house yesterday, and went outside to find an ENORMOUS black rooster strutting around on the eaves. Huge. Part horse, probably. So we sprayed him with a hose and he came flapping down like a nightmare and we all ran for our lives. Fine.

Half an hour later, there was a fwupping, flapping sound, like pigeons humping each other. When it didn't stop, I went outside to investigate and found Blackbeard - who is easily half the size of this monster chicken from hell - holding the black rooster down and ripping his fucking head off. And he was doing it under the neighbor's truck, where I was not about to army-crawl just so I could arrive face-to-face with a head-ripping chicken. What I did instead was pace around in circles, threaten him with a broom, wring my hands, and finally run away to let nature take its horrible, horrible course. 

Blackbeard the Decapitator

So that was horrifying. 

Painting 

I haven't had time to paint. Been taking it in small bites where I can, making agonizingly slow progress on this huge piece of ginger, working from the bottom up. My wet palette is in the freezer so the paint doesn't dry, waiting to ambush people rummaging for ice cream bars.

I'll figure it out.