Daily OpusEverything I write is freely rebloggable. Just keep the source and tell people about my books :D [Until I decide otherwise, my pronouns are Ze/Hir/Hirself. As in "Ze went to the shops to get hir medication hirself". Thank you for the respect.]
“Shunned in school because of her disability, she devoted her life
to the cause, organizing a historic sit-in that led to landmark federal
legislation.”
“The vast majority of individuals with mental health diagnoses are
not violent, and mental health diagnoses are not useful predictors of
future violence.”
Just because one of your chicken eggs hatched a fire breathing dragon people think you’re evil. But you’re still just a regular farmer trying to make a living while dealing with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you and fanatics who want to worship you as the new Demon Lord.
The thing you need to know about all of this, the thing that
got me into all this trouble in the first place, is that chickens will sit on anything when they get broody enough.
Anything. Duck eggs, goose eggs, turkey eggs, lizard eggs, egg shaped rocks,
anything. Chickens aren’t smart. If it looks vaguely like an egg, they’ll plant
their feathery arses on it and wait.
I noticed that there was a bigger egg under one of the broody
chickens, when I checked. Of course I noticed, it was twice the size of the
others. But I have geese. I figured it was a goose egg she’d found and stolen. It
was about the right size, and I didn’t take it out to check the colour because
that particular chicken gets very protective of her eggs. I’ve already got a
scar on one hand from trying to get eggs away from her. I didn’t want a matched
set.
That was a decision I regretted the moment I went out to
feed the chickens and found a little blue-and-silver dragonet’s head poking out
from under a very confused-looking chicken. The poor thing kept shifting around
and looking under herself in a bewildered way, like she didn’t know what to do
next. This particular chicken is a good mother, and she’s raised clutches of
ducks and geese without any trouble – she’s even resigned to some of her
children swimming – but this was too much. She didn’t object when I carefully
reached in and fished out the little dragon.
It was so tiny, then. It fitted in my hand, with its little
head peeking out one side and its tail looping around my wrist. Cute, too, with
its big eyes and little snout turned up towards me.
That was when I made my second mistake. I decided to feed it
before releasing it. Dragons are innately wild creatures, everyone knows that.
They can’t be tamed. People have tried. The eggs are abandoned as soon as they
are laid, and the dragonets hatch able to hunt, so they don’t even bond with
their mothers. So just feeding it a little shouldn’t have been a big deal. It
should have gobbled the meat and fled as soon as I loosened my grip on it and
it saw the open sky.
It didn’t. As soon as I’d fed it, it fluttered up to a sunny
window ledge and went to sleep. I went about my work, figuring that it’d leave
in its own time.
By noon, it was sitting on my boot, squeaking pathetically. I
wondered if maybe it was confused by the farmyard – they usually hatch in
mountains, if the stories are right – so I took it back to the farmhouse with
me and fed it again when I ate, then took some time away from the fences I
should have been mending to walk it up to the hills. I found it some nice
rocks, with plenty of lizards and beetles and suitable prey for something that
size. It pounced on a beetle almost as soon as I put it down, and when I left
it was crunching happily.
I hadn’t walked a quarter of the way back before something
hit the back of my boot. The little dragon was holding on with all four claws,
and when I looked down it squeaked pathetically. If possible, its eyes got even
rounder.
Listen, you don’t make it as a farmer if you just let orphaned
baby animals die. We hand-raise calves and lambs and ponies, set chickens to
sit on abandoned eggs, or put them under the kitchen stove or by a fireplace.
You don’t make a success of farming if you don’t value every animal. A good
shepherd will spend all night looking for one lost sheep. So despite what was
said later, it wasn’t just sentiment that made me sigh and pick up the little
thing and carry it back to the farm. I
am a good farmer. I don’t let orphaned babies die just because they’re a little
work.
I can’t stand elon musk’s simp army like okay maybe they could idk pay for a concerted clean up effort with those billions of dollars they have? You can’t just destroy this planet to get to other ones lol. source
Libraries also provide students a place to study and do homework that they otherwise wouldn’t be able to complete (and teachers will not let kids off the hook, even when they physically do not have access to internet/computers/printers). As someone who only got internet when I turned 16, being able to print and study at the library was vital in avoiding detention and not lagging behind my peers. Libraries are more than just reading books (which is also invaluable), they’re also the only means of properly completing an education for a lot of kids.
That guy deserves to be fired… out of a cannon… at a wall
![ultrafacts:
“Source: [x]
Follow Ultrafacts for more facts!”](https://64.media.tumblr.com/451f9dd1bcbd94aac7dd86afacdb7c42/tumblr_p2ozeec2Yf1rhavdko1_500.png)
