A Fish Tale

I came back to the farm last Tuesday evening laden with goodies from the apartment. Dan had given me the kitchen scraps for the compost pile, the table scraps for the chickens and  a broccoli for me. I plopped everything on my kitchen counter and went to bed.

In the morning I composted the kitchen scraps, gave the chickens the table scraps and ignored the broccoli. Big mistake! The rest of Wednesday was spent running errands, etc. But when I got back home in the late afternoon, every square inch (or metre as they say here) reeked of fish - old fish. I did the bloodhound sniffing thing and circled in on the broccoli. I lifted it up and lo and behold there lay a fish head happily rotting away on my counter.

I muttered angrily to myself (expletives deleted) and gave the fish head to its intended recipients: the chickens. You can see how thrilled they were at this largesse. That is the ignored fish head on the right.

 Thursday I spent in Auckland and when I got back I was too tired to track down the continuing fish smell. I figured it was lingering since I had the apartment shut up. On Friday morning my disillusionment was complete. The fish smell was pretty darned strong. So I did the bloodhound thing again and finally found a large pool of fish blood that had spilled down the back of the counter and pooled on the floor underneath. It was big enough for Smudge to swim in. All I can figure is that the fish head was frozen on Tuesday, thawed on Wednesday and dripped, dripped, dripped. I'm not sure about the time line. Whenever I question Dan all that happens is that he has another laughing fit. Wasn't that funny to me.

Until next time.