Willow Tree Ranch

Royal Correspondence from Chandler the Peacock 🦚

A situation has developed.

One of the goslings hatched later than the others and, as a result, struggles to keep pace with the larger babies.

This is unfortunate.

What is even more unfortunate is that it has apparently decided that I am the solution.

Today I found myself being followed across the estate by a small yellow goose who seemed convinced that I was responsible for its continued success and well-being.

To be clear:

I am not its mother.

I am not a goose.

And babysitting is not listed anywhere in my official duties.

Yet every time I turned around…

There it was.

Following.

Peeping.

Existing directly behind me.

I suppose there are worse things than being trusted.

Still, I would appreciate it if the gosling would locate an actual goose at its earliest convenience.

— Chandler
Acting Assistant Deputy Gosling Es**rt 🦚👑

Royal Correspondence from Chandler the Peacock 🦚

It appears the calico kitten is no longer “the calico kitten.”

She now has a name.

Eris.

Which, I have since learned, is the goddess of chaos.

An alarmingly accurate choice.

This is concerning, as naming generally indicates permanence, and I was under the impression we were still evaluating her application.

Today, while I was simply existing peacefully and minding my own regal business, Eris took it upon herself to engage directly with my tail.

Playing with it.

Swatting at royal plumage as though it were specifically provided for her entertainment.

I would like it noted that I remained remarkably patient throughout this entire interaction. Mostly because she is very small and seems entirely unaware that she is antagonizing a creature of extraordinary importance.

She, meanwhile, appears convinced that all feathers within reach belong to her now.

Honestly, the name fits.

— Chandler
Reluctant Participant in Chaos Management 🦚👑

Royal Correspondence from Chandler the Peacock 🦚

An update on the kitten situation:

The tabby has departed for her new kingdom and is now known as “Juno,” which I will admit is a respectable improvement over the previous naming proposals.

The calico, however, remains.

And today she committed a breach of etiquette so bold that it must be formally documented.

During my dinner service, she walked directly up to my bowl… and began eating from it.

My bowl.

Without permission. Without hesitation. Without even the decency to appear nervous about it.

I observed this violation in stunned silence, attempting to process the sheer confidence contained within such a tiny creature.

The audacity was almost admirable.

Almost.

At this rate, she may become permanent staff.

— Chandler
Victim of Culinary Theft 🦚👑

Royal Correspondence from Chandler the Peacock 🦚

This evening, one of the emus and I conducted a coordinated perimeter patrol.

On opposite sides of the fence, naturally.

Boundaries are important.

We proceeded up and down the property line in complete synchronization—two large flightless birds silently evaluating the estate and, quite possibly, each other.

I will admit… there is something respectable about the emus. They are tall, serious, and equally committed to unnecessary pacing.

However, let the record show:

This was not friendship.

This was professional collaboration.

Temporary.

Monitored.

And conducted under my supervision.

— Chandler
Perimeter Security, Feathered Division 🦚👑

Royal Correspondence from Chandler the Peacock 🦚

The tiny floof units continue to receive regular meals, constant supervision, and entirely unreasonable levels of accommodation.

And yet…

They eat as though civilization is collapsing.

Every meal is approached with urgency, determination, and the apparent belief that this may be their final opportunity to consume food for the next decade.

I am told this is the influence of their feral mother’s instincts—an inherited survival strategy despite the fact that these kittens have, quite literally, never missed a meal in their lives.

Remarkable.

The orange one, Julius, watches them with what I can only assume is recognition.

Honestly, it is the most focused I have ever seen any cats on this estate.

At one point, I issued a supervisory call from the background to remind everyone that dining should maintain at least some level of dignity.

My feedback was ignored.

— Chandler
Director of Feeding Operations & Portion Control 🦚👑

Royal Correspondence from Chandler the Peacock 🦚

An update regarding Julius, the orange estate addition:

Recovery is underway.

New photographs of his wound have been provided for those monitoring the situation, and I am pleased to report that the angry crater formerly attached to his head is beginning to show signs of improvement.

Progress.

At last.

Additionally, Julius has now been introduced to the tiny floof units—also known as “the kittens.”

The meeting appeared… civil.

No dramatic incidents. No screaming. Minimal chaos. Honestly, better than most goose interactions.

Julius remains somewhat scruffy, mildly offended by modern medicine, and deeply suspicious of human intentions, but he is healing—and, against all odds, beginning to settle into estate life.

I will continue overseeing operations from a safe and judgmental distance.

— Chandler
Supervisor of Recovery & Controlled Introductions 🦚👑

Royal Correspondence from Chandler the Peacock 🦚

It is, regrettably, that time of year again.

The goslings are hatching.

Tiny yellow descendants of chaos, arriving with surprising speed and absolutely no concern for long-term planning.

Now, The Keeper insists she did not intend to acquire more geese. However, I invite you to attempt removing eggs from a determined mother goose and report back on your experience… assuming you survive.

As such, several of these small honking liabilities will be made available to suitable ranch homes.

Please.

Take them.

I would also like to formally address an ongoing injustice within this establishment.

Apparently, The Keeper has declared that we will not be acquiring female peafowl because she “doesn’t need a party of peacocks.”

For the record:

I disagree.

Strongly.

A party of peacocks sounds magnificent.

Unfortunately, my opinions are being ignored by management.

— Chandler
Victim of Administrative Overreach 🦚👑

Royal Correspondence from Chandler the Peacock 🦚

This morning, while conducting a full display in the driveway—an entirely appropriate venue for such magnificence—I was interrupted by The Keeper in a truck.

There was honking.

Directed at me.

I would like to clarify:

I was already speaking.

Naturally, I responded.

Louder.

With authority.

If one insists on communicating during an active presentation, one must be prepared for a reply of equal or greater significance.

I did not move immediately. Art should not be rushed.

Eventually, I allowed passage. You’re welcome.

— Chandler
Director of Traffic & Vocal Excellence 🦚👑

Royal Correspondence from Chandler the Peacock 🦚

Today’s observation took place ringside… or rather, fence-side.

Ivo was positioned in a down—calm, composed, and demonstrating what I am told is “proper behavior” while assisting his sister with her BH preparation.

Impressive stillness. Acceptable focus.

Naturally, I conducted a closer inspection.

From the front.

At eye level.

Because if one is going to claim composure, it should hold under scrutiny.

Ivo remained steady. Unshaken. Even as I evaluated him with the attention such a performance deserves.

I will admit… this is progress.

The dogs are learning.

Under supervision.

— Chandler
Evaluator of Standards, Close Range Division 🦚👑