an April day

Yes, it is possible to have snow here in the middle of April. And yes, showers are common at this time of the year. And, too, you can have some chilly days. Yes, not to exceed 35F.

But just because all this can happen, doesn't mean that you like it when it does.

I was expecting a cold Monday and I got it!

There is no sunrise photo for you. It was one of those gray ornings and the chickens weren't especially anxious to go out and forage when I released them from the coop and pen sometime around 7. Lexie was going nuts, dancing around me with the expectation of some kind of a treat -- like a kid whose parent went away to an exotic place, surely warranting a return with a gift, no?

Lexie is still likely to peck at you when she is worked up and I have to admit, cleaning the coop then can be a challenge. Ed locks the chicks out when he does it. I feel like they need to settle down with me going through their personal belongings, so I let them stay in the pen, but as a result, the whole process takes forever.

And did I mention it is cold?

And that there is snow on the ground?






Indeed. But snow is the least of our issues. It had rained so hard in the last two days that the wheel barrow is nearly filled to the top with water. The blanket shielding the coop from winds is one soppy mess. It isn't pretty outside.

Or is it?






In my absence, two things happened: the daffodils had a growth spurt. And so did Lexie! My scrawny girl is nearly as big as Butter! It's not easy to tell them apart these days (well, their personalities give them away...).






(Somewhere in these morning hours, there was breakfast.)






Later, as we return from Menards (cedar planting pots, on sale!),  I see them: hawks. Three, circling overhead. One of them is zeroing in on the courtyard of the farmette. Suddenly, I know it: the chickens are in danger. You know the expression slam on the brakes? I do the opposite:  slam on the gas pedal.What are you doing?? -- this from a horrified Ed.

I swerve into the driveway, run out and wave my arms wildly. The hawk is low, the chickens are frozen. Most are inside the pen, but Butter is outside, under a tree.
Ed - you look wild!
They say if you wave your arms enough, the hawk will eventually quit harassing the chickens.

It's sad to think of their inability to ward off all dangers. They wait, defenseless, hoping a hawk (or some other predator) will leave them alone. And maybe he will and maybe he wont. This one swoops down one last time and flies away.





We have another cold day ahead of us. After that? No promises. And yet, maybe this is the last of the wintry mix?

I cook up a pot of chicken soup for supper. Ed looks at me quizzically. I shrug my shoulders. There are Lexie, Oreo, Butter, Whitney. Then there is chicken from the grocery store. Funny how the mind works.






The wind howls, the temperature falls. Yep, it's April.