A commenter suggested that I love having chickens, that I've always wanted chickens at the farmette, that this was meant to be.
That is 75% correct.
But there are times when I'm in total despair and wondering if I could dump the whole lot of them into someone else's unsuspecting lap, along with with maybe two round trip tickets to France as an incentive.
I am completely distressed when the hens (it's always the hens) hammer away at my flower beds.
And this morning proceeded in that vein.
It began well enough.
Sunrise over the old orchard.
Coop care.
A few more minutes' sleep.
Release from pen.
Breakfast.
Distress.
Lexie, as if she didn't already wear the cloak of bad girl for any number of other reasons, is also my biggest garden digger. She has so much energy that she cannot help herself. She must dig!
And I cannot blame her here. Why would certain patches of ground raise my ire? She doesn't get it.
I am near tears by now.
I cannot let them destroy my flower beds! They're years in the making!
Ed is thoughtful. Do you know that they are destroying anything?
I don't want to find out that they are! It will be too late!
Do you want to keep them penned?
How can I? They love to roam! Really, you should see their excitement when I come in the morning to let them out of the pen. Joy unleashed.
But after a morning of frantic digging, the chickens settle down. They take pauses. They watch our movements. They are fine, they are fine! They relax. I relax.
In other news, we had two big gardening events today that brought us closer to the growing season: both of our suppliers of (free) wood chips dumped truckloads of the stuff for us and so we spent many hours hauling chips to various parts of the farmette. We'll be doing this all season long, but for now, my beds need the ground cover and so we start there.
The chickens, ever curious, follow our progress. It is a good set of hours for us and for them.
And too, we run a few small errands on Ed's motorcycle. I am finally warm enough that I don't insist we take the car. As we ride along the rural back roads, I am reminded of the first time I ever rode with Ed on his old Honda, nearly nine years ago. I was freezing then, completely caught off guard by the wind, the chill in the valleys, the loudness of the engine. It took a while to grow to love these rides.To get over the rough spots.
With the chicks, the love of the good hours is easy. But the rough spots are definitely there. As with most anything in life, it'll take a bit of patience and thoughtful work to get them ironed out.
Not yet a full moon tonight. But soon. In the meantime, the night is mild, the chickens are asleep.
That is 75% correct.
But there are times when I'm in total despair and wondering if I could dump the whole lot of them into someone else's unsuspecting lap, along with with maybe two round trip tickets to France as an incentive.
I am completely distressed when the hens (it's always the hens) hammer away at my flower beds.
And this morning proceeded in that vein.
It began well enough.
Sunrise over the old orchard.
Coop care.
A few more minutes' sleep.
Release from pen.
Breakfast.
Distress.
Lexie, as if she didn't already wear the cloak of bad girl for any number of other reasons, is also my biggest garden digger. She has so much energy that she cannot help herself. She must dig!
And I cannot blame her here. Why would certain patches of ground raise my ire? She doesn't get it.
I am near tears by now.
I cannot let them destroy my flower beds! They're years in the making!
Ed is thoughtful. Do you know that they are destroying anything?
I don't want to find out that they are! It will be too late!
Do you want to keep them penned?
How can I? They love to roam! Really, you should see their excitement when I come in the morning to let them out of the pen. Joy unleashed.
But after a morning of frantic digging, the chickens settle down. They take pauses. They watch our movements. They are fine, they are fine! They relax. I relax.
In other news, we had two big gardening events today that brought us closer to the growing season: both of our suppliers of (free) wood chips dumped truckloads of the stuff for us and so we spent many hours hauling chips to various parts of the farmette. We'll be doing this all season long, but for now, my beds need the ground cover and so we start there.
The chickens, ever curious, follow our progress. It is a good set of hours for us and for them.
And too, we run a few small errands on Ed's motorcycle. I am finally warm enough that I don't insist we take the car. As we ride along the rural back roads, I am reminded of the first time I ever rode with Ed on his old Honda, nearly nine years ago. I was freezing then, completely caught off guard by the wind, the chill in the valleys, the loudness of the engine. It took a while to grow to love these rides.To get over the rough spots.
With the chicks, the love of the good hours is easy. But the rough spots are definitely there. As with most anything in life, it'll take a bit of patience and thoughtful work to get them ironed out.
Not yet a full moon tonight. But soon. In the meantime, the night is mild, the chickens are asleep.
