What a funny story CI. You might try picking up a few pullets from a feed store this spring or at a poultry swap or auction. The blue/green eggs are the coolest thing! I haven't got any pink layers but can only imagine the thrill. I do have one that lays a deep dark brownish pink though. I just love the different colors. -Sheila

Bostons are great pets. I used to raise and train large dogs and have owned a wonderful dachsund. But I've found that being owned by a Boston is much less strenuous and very entertaining! I knew a male Boston as a child. If a crowd was in the yard, he would pick up and carry two by fours around! I vividly remember that his owner had to remove a stack of boards just to keep him from tripping or smacking guests with his "toys". Even though they aren't very tall or large, Bostons' jaws, shoulders, and necks are extremely strong. They are also very persistent. It's their bulldog, rat catching ancestry. But their early breeding as pets for the wealthy residents of Knob Hill in old Boston has also made them very good with people. Our Boston, Maggie, used to excavate metal objects and bricks in the yard of her previous home. Her pursuit of buried treasure was so focused and relentless that her owners had to dig up and completely remove anything she unearched in order to get her to leave it alone. Apparently, she is an alpha female anyway and, because Bostons are more likely to include people than other dogs in their packs, being around so many other dogs at the breeders made her rather nervous and triggered a taste for the pursuit of buried objects. Consequently, her owners thought she would be happier as an only dog. We wanted only one adult dog, rather than a puppy, because we aren't home all day and wouldn't have had time to really train a puppy properly. Boston's don't seem to mind being home alone during the day as long as they have your company at night. So, in spite of my concern that she might dig up my flower beds, we bought Maggie when she was around three years old. She's turned out to have been the perfect choice and is queen of the house. Since her arrival, she has shown no inclination toward archeology at all. Alone in the back yard, she sniffs around the perimeter and casts disgusted looks at the neighboring labradors that bark incessantly. She does not bark at strangers, at the mailcarrier, or at anyone who comes near her or her territory. The only times she barks are when she launches herself after a tossed toy, when my husband talks directly to her in a loud, friendly voice, and when my daughter dances with her. Mind you, she will only dance with my daughter. That is their "special" activity together. If others try to dance with her, she just smiles at them as though they are nice but quite mad. DH is in a wheelchair most of the time when he is home. Maggie has also figured out how to do figure eights around his wheels and has no fear of being run over in the midst of her fun. She dearly loves DH, whom she has trained to sneak her tidbits, and can tell when he is due home. At 7 p.m. sharp she will get up off the couch, stretch, and sit in front of the door, staring and listening intently for her master's vehicle. If he is over 15 minutes late, she'll come to me with a worried expression. Only my verbal reassurance that "Dad will be home later" will make her lay down and rest. Since she can't see out the front door, if she hears a car, she'll come to me for an explanation. If I tell her "Dad's home", or "The girl's here" (my daughter) or "The boy's here" (my son) she goes into the Boston happy dance, which consists of wagging her entire body, since Bostons are born tailess and with naturally docked looking ears. Another plus, I think. Maggie has completly different relationships with each of our family members and friends. My son will wrestle and rough house with her so she has decided that rough housing is his purpose in life. My daughter dances with her. I feed her and let her out. However, it seems she has also figured out that any human can easily be converted into comfy dog furniture or a fetching machine. When humans enter the back yard with her, she'll leap two to four feet off the ground. Once she has their full attention, she'll find a toy to drop at their feet as a polite hint. If they move about, ignoring her, she'll follow them around, dropping the toy at their feet each time they stop moving. When I work in the garden I have to alternatively dig, toss, dig, toss, prune, toss and so one. She's a huge frizbee and ball fan and will go absolutely anywhere, including into very deep undergrowth and up shrubs or trees that are slightly less than vertical, for a toy. However, because Maggie is rather short, she has learned to carry the frizbee high so that she won't trip herself. She carries it so high that it covers up her head and eyes. We figure she must be navigating by touch, sound and smell because she certainly can't see where she's headed but always gets there. "Aunt" Maggie actually taught our naughty, very spoiled "grandog", Snickers (a chocolate dachsund) to fetch. He's typical for his breed--intelligent, energetic, and stubborn--and thinks it's great fun to bait the neighbor dogs, explore undergrowth, dig, and generally terrorize the place. He will not come when called, except to his "Dad", and must be tricked into doing what Maggie gladly does when asked. Snickers used to simply chase Maggie around while she fetched. Now he fetches but isn't inclined to bring toys back and would rather play chase. When he's being especially naughty, Maggie just watches him, sighs, and looks up at us as if to say, "Hey, he's just not a Boston. What do expect from a crazy weinerdog!"

I once watched several small carrot plants get pulled under the ground one after another in a short period of time.Just like in the cartoons. I stomped the tunnel on either side of where the carrots were and trapped the gopher in the middle. It stuck it's head up out of a hole where a carrot used to be and a shovel was the last thing that critter ever saw.He made good fertilizer-at least the plants grew pretty good that year once he was gone. Putting the water hose in the hole doesn't work.they dig tunnels to drain rain water etc.so they know how to get away from water when they have to. A friend put a bunch of gopher gassers (poison smoke bombs) in several gopher holes then covered them with wood-as the instructions say-Halfway down the block people came running out of their house with smoke pouring out from under the house.They thaught they were on fire... He flooded his next door kniebors back yard where the gophers drain hole was too on another day.He had left the hose on all afternoon and the water was washing mud into the guys pool. Nothing like kicking back with a homebrewed beer watching someone at war with the gophers. Almost as good as watching the launch ramp follies at the lake every summer. Me,I feed the bugs and birds hot peppers and hot pepper plants... :) All my plants are in containers. Check out the link below.Watch the video. Blow them up.Pretty funny. Here is a link that might be useful: watch videos

When I was a teenager we had a Mina bird named Gus who had quite a vocabulary and was able to imitate voices and accents. One day when no one was home my boyfriend and I were "making out" in the living room when Gus made the sound of the backdoor opening and my mother's voice say " What are you doing?" You never saw two people get on other sides of the room so fast. Gus just laughed and laughed.