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.


4 comments:

  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.

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  2. Adorbs!

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

    Love, C.

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  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!

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  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.

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