The last census held in Myland, a one acre Earldom bordering on the city of Haarlem, South Africa, the total headcount was:
Ruler (benevolent.) – 1. Earl Pete.
Department of Security. Canine Contingent – 3.
Roving ambassador, meat importer. Feline – 1.
Taxpayers: Hens – 18.
Tax inspectors: Rooster – 3.
Student taxpayer: Chicks – 1.
Refugee: Guineafowl – 1.
I feed the dogs before letting the chickens out because they rush to the stoop to steal the Security rations. Normally, I’d not feed the Security Division twice a day, but I have to give young trainee, Spy, a meal and the other two seniors, Sergeant Fudge Staffy and Corporal Rita Ridge, don’t understand why they are left out. I cannot afford for them to go on strike.
Ambassador Thor spends a lot of his night out gallivanting for meat import contracts so sleeps a lot of the day, but if his hunting has not been successful, he demands food when I get up. A tin of minced pilchards lasts about three days if I share one between him and Spy, but too costly. There is no pets mince available in the local supermarket for import at the mo, but I got some chicken heads from Sheila the other day who gets them delivered from the abattoir nearby and that’s what I start the day, cooking for the dogs with yellow pap. Thor demands a head, too, if he can get away with it. None get raw heads; I’d hate for the ambassador or the security detail to get the taste and take the law into their own mouths. Imported morsels are allowed by the ambassador only.
The single chick and his/her mom are still in their cage to keep the chick safe from hawks and other terrorist predators, but doing well. Thor was introduced to chicks as a kitten and when he took an interest got a good whack which has kept chicks off his menu. Spy insists on joining me as I feed the chickens and eats the crushed mielies as well, which should also save on tinned fish. The fowl population then head out to forage for the day, returning to their quarters in the evening after queuing for their rations. Then I collect the egg-tax on my way back to the castle (an Englishman’s home) to have my first coffee; from 8 to a dozen eggs a day at the mo, but a couple of hens are broody. I have to keep an eye out, therefore, for tax evasion and illegal offshore deposits.
In line with current immigration displacement policy, I have admitted one refugee. This one is from Guinea Fowlland and is fitting in with the local community quite well so far, and does not appear to be a radical, although she is consuming rations and does not pax taxes. She seems to talk only guineafowl, so communication is difficult.