LifeOnTheFarm.farm

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  • Mission: Save Baby Bjørge (Feat. Human Panic Mode)

    A thrilling tale of life, death, and one man handling a tiny bird like it was a live grenade.

    The Scene of the Crime

    This is when things went from tragic… to absolutely ridiculous.

    It all started with a murder attempt.
    Not mine—I’m too fast. But my tiny, clueless baby? Not so much.

    I was out for my morning patrol when I heard screams.
    Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Bjørge, aren’t you overreacting? Birds scream all the time.”
    No. This was different.

    I raced to the scene and found my kid getting WRECKED by the neighborhood delinquent: a skjære (magpie).
    Now, I respect the hustle of stealing shiny things, but attempted murder at my doorstep? That’s a war crime.

    The magpie dive-bombed my baby, slammed it into the balcony, and continued its WWE-style beatdown right in front of the human’s house.

    THEN—BOOM!
    The human, in his infinite wisdom, saw what was happening and did the most logical thing:

    HE SLAMMED HIS HAND AGAINST THE WINDOW LIKE A MAN TRYING TO SCARE OFF DEBT COLLECTORS.

    The magpie, shook to its core, fled like it had just seen a ghost.
    My baby, however, lay there… completely motionless.

    The Human Meltdown Begins

    The Human Meltdown Begins

    This is when things went from tragic… to absolutely ridiculous.

    Step 1: Enter Full Panic Mode
    The human stared at my baby, trying to process what had just happened.
    You could see the wheels turning in his brain, except they were square-shaped and on fire.

    Step 2: “I NEED GEAR!”
    Instead of just picking up my poor kid like a normal person, the human went into full biohazard containment mode.

    🔹 RAN to the garage like he was about to defuse a bomb.
    🔹 Dug through piles of forgotten equipment looking for a cage that probably hadn’t seen daylight since the Viking Age.
    🔹 Put on thick rubber gloves, as if my tiny baby was carrying the plague.

    I was screaming at him (“JUST PICK IT UP!”), but all he heard was “chirp chirp.”
    So instead of saving my child quickly, he wasted a solid 10 minutes preparing like he was about to perform open-heart surgery.

    When he finally returned, my baby had stopped struggling.
    Not because it was dead.
    But because it had lost the will to live after witnessing this absolute circus.

    The Emergency Hotline & The Ultimate Decision

    Finally, the human placed my baby inside the cage (like he was capturing a wild tiger) and did the unthinkable:

    He called for backup.

    Enter: Jonas.
    The local hunter. The bird expert. The voice of reason in a world of nonsense.

    Jonas, cool as always, gave him a number for bird rescue.
    And THEN came the moment of truth:

    They agreed that if my baby was too weak to survive, Jonas would handle things in a way that was… final.
    (Translation: The human was too emotionally fragile to make the tough call, so he outsourced the decision.)

    But guess what?
    THE BABY WAS A WARRIOR.
    Despite looking like it had just been thrown out of a tornado, it started to move, eat, drink.

    And the human? He just sat there, watching. Waiting. Muttering things about “hoping it would be okay” like a worried dad at a kid’s soccer game.

    The Big Release – A Comeback Story

    The next day, something amazing happened.
    The baby woke up feeling like Rocky Balboa after training in the mountains.

    It was jumping, flapping, ready to go.
    The human, now emotionally invested, hesitated.
    What if it’s not ready?
    What if it falls?
    What if it doesn’t even say goodbye??

    But my baby had had enough.
    The second that cage door opened—BOOM.
    It shot out like a missile, straight toward the legendary oak trees.

    I could hear the human gasp behind me, probably wiping a tear, whispering,
    “Fly, my child. Be free.”

    I swear, if he had violin music, he would have played it.

    And the best part?
    The baby landed right on a 600-year-old oak tree, the same ones that have survived wars, storms, and now, human incompetence.

    🎬 BONUS VIDEO – A Mother’s Victory Lap 🏆

    Like an action hero returning after the final battle, I swooped in with my baby, back at the birdhouse where it all began.
    And what did I do?

    I fed my little warrior. Right there.
    A proper motherly flex.

    For all the magpies watching, this was my way of saying:
    “Nice try. Better luck next time, losers.”

    For the human watching from the window?
    He was probably whispering “I helped raise that one.”
    (Spoiler: No, you didn’t. But thanks for the dramatic rescue.)

    This is the real ending to our story.
    Not just survival—a full-circle moment of triumph.

    🔥 The comeback is complete. The chaos is over. The legend lives on. 🔥

    (Until the next disaster… Stay tuned.) 😆

    🔴 The Red Bird Prophecy – A Funeral, a Suspicious Spot, and a Human Who Attempted CPR on a Bird 🔴

  • 🔴 The Red Bird Prophecy – A Funeral, a Suspicious Spot, and a Human Who Attempted CPR on a Bird 🔴

    There are days when I, Bjørge the Mighty, feel like the universe is trying to tell me something.

    It all started with a mysterious crime scene – a poor red bird lying flat on the deck, its feathers scattered like the aftermath of a feathery bar fight. No wounds. No signs of struggle. Just… gone.

    Now, a normal human would probably say,
    “Oh no, what a shame,”
    and move on with their day.

    But not my human.

    No, no.
    He saw the lifeless bird and his inner medic kicked in.

    Because, ladies and gentlemen, this man – with actual medical training – tried to resuscitate the bird.

    🤲 Held it gently. Checked for signs of life.
    👂 Listened for a heartbeat (on a bird…).
    💨 Considered mouth-to-beak (but thank God, stopped himself).
    🚨 Briefly thought about calling for professional help.

    And when all else failed?

    👉 Held an emergency funeral – digging a tiny grave like he was conducting the world’s smallest Viking burial.
    👉 Muttered something dramatic about ‘respect for nature’ while looking over his shoulder, probably expecting the ghost of the red bird to haunt him.
    👉 Planted a young oak tree over the grave – a noble gesture, but let’s be real… that tree now carries serious baggage.

    But the weirdest part?
    This was only the beginning.

    Because just hours later, something way bigger happened.

    🆘 Something went down. A rescue mission. A frantic human. A baby bird.

    A scene so chaotic that I can’t even describe it in one post.

    Which is why you’ll have to wait until Sunday to hear the full story. 😏

    (Hint: It involves an old cage, a ladder, and a grown man handling a baby bird like it was a ticking time bomb.)

    Stay tuned.

    https://www.nationalgeographic.com

  • Bjørge – Identitetskrise, TV-kjendis og… et mystisk tall?

    Da jeg først ble kjent med Bjørge, var jeg overbevist om én ting: Dette var en tøff kar. En uredd hakkespett med attitude, en skapning som taklet livets utfordringer med nebb og klør (bokstavelig talt). Og selvfølgelig måtte han ha et navn som matchet dette badass imaget.

    Så hva gjorde jeg?

    Jeg stjal navnet fra en legendarisk TV-karakter fra Charterfeber. Ja, Bjørge – en mann med like mye kaos i blikket som han hadde historier fra Gran Canaria.

    Og hva skjer? Jo, etter måneder med stolthet over å ha en skikkelig røff og tøff hakkespett-kompis, måtte naturen komme og sette meg på plass.

    Bjørge er en hunnfugl.

    Ja. Det stemmer.
    Alt dette snakket om “mannemann”, den selverklærte skogenes hersker – og så viser det seg at hun er en dame.

    Det ironiske? Hun har alltid vært der, hakker løs, observerer kaoset fra avstand, og har sikkert ristet på hodet av mine feilslutninger hele veien.

    Men vent – det blir verre

    For å gjøre hele situasjonen enda mer surrealistisk, skulle jeg laste opp et bilde av Bjørge til bloggen. Hva skjer?

    Bredden på bildet havner helt tilfeldig på 666 piksler.

    Hva betyr dette?!

    • Er Bjørge en hemmelig overvåker av all urettferdighet i nabolaget?
    • Er hun en overjordisk entitet sendt for å avdekke sannheten bak kaoset?
    • Eller er dette bare skjebnens måte å ydmyke meg ytterligere på?

    Jeg vet ikke.
    Men én ting er sikkert: Jeg har null kontroll over noe som helst.

    Så her er vi – jeg har en hunnfugl med et mannsnavn, en potensiell numerologisk kode skjult i bildene hennes, og en følelse av at jeg burde vært litt mer oppmerksom på naturens detaljer før jeg begynte å gi fugler personlighetstrekk fra reality-TV.

    Og for de av dere som tenker: “Men vent, hvordan fant du egentlig ut at Bjørge var en hun?”

    Vel…

    Det er en historie for en annen gang. 😉

  • Bjørge’s Daily Chaos – Life on the Farm Begins!

    🐦 By Bjørge, the Great Spotted Woodpecker, Supreme Ruler of the Farm

    Good morning, peasants!

    It is I, Bjørge, your beloved (and slightly unhinged) farm mascot. You may think life on the farm is peaceful, a charming little paradise tucked away in the countryside. But let me tell you something—this place is CHAOS. And I, of course, am at the center of it all.

    Morning Duties: Peck, Eat, Supervise

    My day starts early, just before sunrise. I sit at my Royal Feeding Throne (a.k.a. the bird feeder) and observe the strange activities of the creatures below. The human, who refills my glorious banquet, seems to think I’m just here for the sunflower seeds. Fool. I’m also running surveillance on all suspicious movements in the area.

    From my high vantage point, I keep an eye on my kingdom—trees, the road, certain humans (who shall not be named yet), and anything that dares trespass into my domain. Squirrels? Annoying little acrobats. Magpies? Too chatty. Random cats? Disgusting.

    Farm Life and the Struggle for Power

    The humans who “own” this farm seem completely unaware that I am the one in charge. They go about their days, making noise, driving around, and occasionally staring at the sky as if something profound is happening. Meanwhile, I must manage diplomatic relations with the other birds, defend my feeder from invaders, and maintain my reputation as the loudest, most dramatic creature around.

    Suspicious Activity Report

    Now, I’m not saying I have reason to be suspicious, but let’s just say some certain individuals have been acting odd lately. I’ve noticed movements on the neighboring land, an increase in vehicle activity, and some highly questionable behavior near the fence line.

    But alas, I am merely a woodpecker. A handsome, intelligent, all-powerful woodpecker—but a woodpecker nonetheless. So, I shall continue to observe, report, and, if necessary, unleash my mighty pecking wrath.

    Coming Soon: More Chaos!

    My next report will include updates on food shortages (aka the humans being lazy with refilling my feeder), my battle against the magpies, and my ongoing investigation into The Mystery of the Moving Objects. Stay tuned, my loyal subjects!

    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some extremely important pecking to do. End transmission.

    📸 Bonus: A video of myself gracefully eating sunflower seeds 🐦

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