And what would you do on a day that is suddenly so... uninviting?
I look outside and notice snow showers. This will have been the highlight of the day: snow showers. So wet that they don't even stick. The landscape remains predominantly brown. Thank God for the red sheep shed and the remaining crab apples!
(Can't see the wet snow falling? Let's look again.)
Ed lets the cheepers out, but they don't seem inclined to make the long walk from barn to our front door (whereas on previous days, they'd any annoy the hell our of Isie boy by claiming squatters rights to our doorstep, making it impossible for the cat to go in or out without coming into contact with at least one of them -- a risk too big for our rather distrustful guy).
I go out and call to them -- cheepers! cheePERS! Move! You need the exercise!
Nothing.
We eat breakfast surrounded by chickens of the type you place on your dining table.
(tussled hair)
(Can you look less out of it, Ed? Thank you!)
After, I try again. Cheepers!
Alright. The girls heard me. slowly they make their way over. I reward them amply with stale bread (their favorite) in addition to black sunflower seeds, trapper peas, and GMO-free milo. (Dont ask; it's what the Chicken Store sold us. For a special treat.)
When they finish picking out the foods from the soil, they retreat under a bush and there they rest for the better part of the day. This leads me to say to Ed -- you know, I can't really think that they are happy in winter. They must live with a constant feeling of cold.
I can't give them Florida, he responds and goes back to his computer. Ed is very matter of fact about what can and cannot be had in life.
Since the sun refuses to show any signs of emerging, I follow its lead and stay inside. Wouldn't you? It's just a degree above freezing and the forecast tells me that this is the warm spell for the next two weeks. But without sun, it just looks dismal out there.
I'm thinking -- if the cheepers need exercise (and they do), then shouldn't I nudge Isie boy toward some activity as well (in the few minutes out of the day when he is not asleep)?
I try.
As you can see, very unsuccessfully.
This is the kind of day where the best thing you can do for your (retired) self is to read, write and hatch plans for better days and sunnier spaces. I do all the above!
And for dinner, we eat home made chicken soup, ignoring the brutal fact that the meat in the broth is awfully similar to what we have resting in the coop right now.
I look outside and notice snow showers. This will have been the highlight of the day: snow showers. So wet that they don't even stick. The landscape remains predominantly brown. Thank God for the red sheep shed and the remaining crab apples!
(Can't see the wet snow falling? Let's look again.)
Ed lets the cheepers out, but they don't seem inclined to make the long walk from barn to our front door (whereas on previous days, they'd any annoy the hell our of Isie boy by claiming squatters rights to our doorstep, making it impossible for the cat to go in or out without coming into contact with at least one of them -- a risk too big for our rather distrustful guy).
I go out and call to them -- cheepers! cheePERS! Move! You need the exercise!
Nothing.
We eat breakfast surrounded by chickens of the type you place on your dining table.
(tussled hair)
(Can you look less out of it, Ed? Thank you!)
After, I try again. Cheepers!
Alright. The girls heard me. slowly they make their way over. I reward them amply with stale bread (their favorite) in addition to black sunflower seeds, trapper peas, and GMO-free milo. (Dont ask; it's what the Chicken Store sold us. For a special treat.)
When they finish picking out the foods from the soil, they retreat under a bush and there they rest for the better part of the day. This leads me to say to Ed -- you know, I can't really think that they are happy in winter. They must live with a constant feeling of cold.
I can't give them Florida, he responds and goes back to his computer. Ed is very matter of fact about what can and cannot be had in life.
Since the sun refuses to show any signs of emerging, I follow its lead and stay inside. Wouldn't you? It's just a degree above freezing and the forecast tells me that this is the warm spell for the next two weeks. But without sun, it just looks dismal out there.
I'm thinking -- if the cheepers need exercise (and they do), then shouldn't I nudge Isie boy toward some activity as well (in the few minutes out of the day when he is not asleep)?
I try.
As you can see, very unsuccessfully.
This is the kind of day where the best thing you can do for your (retired) self is to read, write and hatch plans for better days and sunnier spaces. I do all the above!
And for dinner, we eat home made chicken soup, ignoring the brutal fact that the meat in the broth is awfully similar to what we have resting in the coop right now.
