I love my hens just a little more now that they aren’t all molting and nekked. And my hens seem to love me ever so slightly more. Maybe that’s because I hand feed them raisins, a trick the neighbors taught me. The chicks don’t mind so much the huntress kitty cat, and Boris is largely unconcerned by the whole lot of us outside the Hubster. I dubbed the video sound to cover my yelling, “NO RAISINS FOR YOU!” I seem to be the only one who doesn’t kowtow to the Hubster’s Vader-like presence.
Oh, this is just too low. Pet blogging.
Poins: Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.
Falstaff: What, upon compulsion? Zounds, and I were at the strappado or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you upon compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion? If reasons were as plentiful as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.
(Henry IV, Part One, 2.4.246-42)
Best, Michael. Shakespeare’s Life and Times. Internet Shakespeare Editions, University of Victoria: Victoria, BC, 2001-2005.