Jacinta Lou – Writer

Category: Kidlit

  • Last week in the hen house

    Last week in the hen house

    Last week, I watched Rex and his seven chooks meet up with a family of native hens (Turbo chooks). The hens didn’t seem to mind sharing the paddock with the turbos but Rex had other ideas and confronted them. The Turbos weren’t phased by the bossy rooster, but did slowly move back from where Rex had his hens. I couldn’t get close enough for a photo but watched as the two families sorted out the space.

    The following day, just after I opened the hen house, a cheeky currawong flew in and tried to get some vegetable scraps. I have never seen a rooster move so quickly to get back into the hen house yard and chase the cheeky currawong away, empty beaked. Feathers did fly and Rex strutted back and forth for about ten minutes, guarding the hen house. The currawong waited till Rex was at the far side of the paddock and went in, with his mate, to clean up left over scraps. They won’t cross Rex again in a hurry.

    One of the joys of living in the bush, is watching birds sort out the pecking order, so to speak.

  • A grand Rooster

    This grand fellow is called Rex, but it hasn’t always been his name. He began his life as an egg in the hen house. His father, Rex and his mother, Nutmeg. He was one of nine eggs but the only one to hatch. He was born (hatched – what is the right term for a bird?) and named Popcorn. At this stage it wasn’t known if he was a rooster or a hen, he was just very adorable. Not long after his birth (hatching?) his brave father, Rex, was killed by a quoll, defending the flock. A sad day for everyone.

    Popcorn grew and eventually became a rooster even grander than his father so his name changed to Son of Rex and then to Rex. He still gets called Popcorn from time to time but with a family of seven hens to protect, we think he prefers Rex.

    He is every bit as brave as his father, who was also born (hatched) on our property but he has more hens and keeping them together in one place proves difficult.

    We see, and hear Rex, running back and forward around the yard and the henhouse keeping a watchful eye on his flock. They free range through the day so he has his work cut out for him. (If you are ever feeling a bit down, watch a very grand rooster run. It will soon have you smiling, if not laughing.)

    Rex lives in Tasmania so he doesn’t have to worry about foxes or dingos but he does have to be vigilant to feral cats and quolls.

    He shares his yard with the native hens (turbo chooks) and their families. Theirs is an easy alliance with plenty of food for all. The currawong raid the coop as soon as the gate is opened, having worked out, through trial and error, how NOT to get tangled in the bird netting.

    My goal is to write the adventures of Rex and his feathered friends, native and migratory, as either short stories or picture books. At the moment I’m enjoying watching them as they go about their day. Moving to the bush has turned me into a bird watcher!

  • My Writing Companion

    This is my writing companion, Bella. When I say writing companion, what I mean is my partner in crime. The crime of procrastination!

    Bella is a lap dog and she takes her job very seriously. I adopted her when she was almost three and since then it is impossible to sit without her trying to get on my lap.

    Using a laptop with a lapdog is fraught with danger. I don’t recommend it. Occasionally she will allow me to rest a book on her but NEVER the laptop. She refuses to give up her prime realestate and in her determination has walked across the laptop on more than one occasion managing to delete my work. Just lucky she is cute.

    I had to obtain a desktop computer to enable me to work without the fear of losing my efforts, or, more importantly, upsetting the pug. It’s taken a few months but she has come to terms with losing my lap to the desktop – as long as I don’t write for too long.

    When I sit back on the couch, she pounces and takes up her spot. I can’t move then, can I? Like I said, she is my partner in procrastination. She sometimes walks on the remote and turns on NETFLIX. Then I’m really stuck.

    Stuck is the wrong word. I could get up and write if I wanted to… I really could, but being the lap for a lapdog is a very important job and I, like my pug, take my job seriously.

    Apparently my lap is required on the couch. Till next time.