First day back in office after Thanksgiving. Got an issue going to the printer on Thursday. Need to finish a Classic Gunfights and my editorial on Unsung Heroes: Little Known Characters of the Old West.
I've got rooster problems in my chicken coop. Remember when I thought I didn't have any roosters? I was told by Betsy I bought seven hens. So, I went and bought a little rooster called Peckasso to give the hens something to live for, but when I put him in the hen house they all tried to kill him. I even tried the wait-until-midnite-and-put-the-chicken-in-amongst-the-sleeping-hens deal and in the morning they will accept the guy? Did that twice and each time when I came out to check in the morning, there Peckasso was running around trying to avoid getting speared to death. So I kept Peckasso in my studio for a month until the cleaning lady, Olga, threatened to wring my neck, after cleaning up all the chicken droppings. So then I gave Peckasso to my neighbor Tom and as the days have gone by it appears I have, ahem, a YMCA deal going on here. Instead of all hens it appears I have mostly roosters. Came home for lunch today and had an apple for dessert, and started laying in brush strokes of the saguaros in a study I've been working on (below). Came to a logical place and stopped, then took the apple core out to give to the chickens and saw this:
Rooster Death, 1:12 p.m. Chicken Condo Central, Cave Creek, Arizona
The big red rooster kept jumping on the white rooster, who was still breathing, but fading fast. Big Red jumped up on top of Whitie and pecked at the face and eyes and pulled with his beak at the face until the breathing stopped. Oh, and this is the NATURAL WORLD.
Threw the dead rooster over the fence and went back inside to finish an ambitious study: "August Clouds Over Ratcliff Ridge".
This is a scene I look at out our kitchen window. Really a spectacular stand of saguaros on the ridge across the road.
When we were in LA last week, we ate at Tacos Delta on Friday morning, a place Carson Mell turned us on to.
As we were leaving I saw this billboard in the parking lot:
I couldn't get anyone to go see "Lincoln" because it clocks in at three hours. Dang. I need a good review. You got one?
"Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?"
—Old Vaquero Joke
