Pretending to not see this cuke, I waited to see how big it would get.
This guy no doubt thought he would escape the pickle jar by becoming the Arnold Schwarzenegger of cucumbers. I believe I heard it chuckle when I gasped over what a big boy he'd become.
The chickens love to peck out the seeds, but leave the rest of the cukes. Periodically, I have to rake out the cucumber and zucchini donuts from the hen run.
Rupert the Rooster is quite gallant, calling the hens to eat before he does. I've watched him break off a small bit of clover and put it down for a hen. The stupid hens never do notice his offerings, but do come for chow whenever I appear anywhere nearby. They prefer vegetables to cracked corn, which always gets left for the cardinals and other birds to clean up.
As for Mr. Big Cucumber, as sometimes happens with these late-maturing brawny types, he wound up being terribly henpecked.
