Saturday, November 7, 2015

Fowl Things

I went out to feed my chickens this morning, and coming back in I glanced at my reflection in the door glass, and had to laugh:
--red nightgown
--blue fleece jacket
--brown leather outback hat
--blue yoga pants, 15 years old, with holes
--pink fluffy socks
--brown clogs.

Not winning any awards here in fashion, and happy for it.

Anyway, who would've thought that I'd become so fond of three chickens? It's happened. I talk to them. I fuss over them. They follow me around the yard (making a scratched-up mess of the garden) and they bicker amongst themselves, argue with me, peck for bugs. Altogether a pretty cozy scene, all things considered. Fluffy pink socks and all.

And eggs! Usually three per day! I keep an eleven watt bulb lit from 5am - 9pm every day, so they're fooled, so far, into summer hours.

Maybe my urban days are waning. Time will tell.


  1. My hens are bloody useless. I feed them, look after them, play with them, make sure they have comfortable beds, etc, but they haven't laid an egg for months. They have become lazy pets.

  2. Adorbs!

    Those eggs must be delicious. Does your cooking son commandeer any of them?

    Love, C.

  3. I've dithered around over the chicken thing, wondering if I should take the plunge and get a few. You are mighty persuasive, pink socks and all!

  4. I LOVE the outfit. Think you could manage a selfie? I had chickens years ago when my daughter was preschool age. They were great fun, but eventually, despite my best efforts, were eaten by skunks, raccoons and probably a fox or two. But, while they lasted, the eggs were yummy.