Swine flu may have hit the area. They’ve closed all the schools in Madison ’til Monday. Fred said it was like a ghost town on the way to work.
I blame these guys.
“That’s RIGHT, we started the Swine Flu! Would this have happened if you gave us all the cookies we wanted, like we demanded? It would NOT. You have no one to blame but yourself, lady! Three cookies in the evening is hardly enough to survive on!”
For today, a picture entry consisting of pictures that are taking up space in my “to post” folder. You’re welcome!
Little Polish chick is getting head feathers. I love the way it looks like a flat top.
Check out the leg fuzz!
Charlie, in a nest box with one of the broody mommas. The broody mommas are endlessly patient with Charlie and if they’re outside with their babies and Charlie comes close, they don’t get fierce and protective the way they would if any other chicken came close to their babies. I guess they don’t consider her a threat.
These guys love to hang out on the coop steps. (Nance, these are some of the ones who hatched when you guys were visiting!)
Silkie Momma’s babies. Fred particularly likes the one with the tan face.
Poor fucking bluebird. I found him dead by the back steps yesterday. I TRIED to convince him not to hang out in the back yard, but he was stubborn about getting worms from the back yard. He said they were tastier ’cause they’d marinated in the het of Mister Boogers.
After I found the bluebird, I called Fred and demanded that he come home and kill all the cats, but he refused. Hmph.
Polish cross, about 10 weeks old. We moved all seven of the chicks from that batch out to the big chicken yard. They seem to have adjusted well, but Tuesday when I walked by the maternity/ little chicken coop, this one had escaped the big chicken yard and was trying to get into the maternity yard. I let him in and he hung out there for the rest of the day, then we moved him back out to the big chicken yard where he appears to be willing to stay. For now.
“THTOP calling her a bad mother! She is a good mother! I luff her!”
Saturday, Fred was working on the shade structure on the big coop (something I still need to get a picture of), and I was inside puttering around. He came in and said “Did you see the show?” I said “No, what happened?” Apparently he’d been up on the ladder, lost his balance, and FELL. Right on top of the ladder. He hurt his elbow and bruised up his leg, but the worst bruise by far is the one on his ass cheek.
You know you’ve been dying to get a good look at his ass.
The bruise is about the size of a softball, but as is always the way, it’s the areas that aren’t as badly bruised that hurt the worst.
We’re getting to the point (AGAIN) where we’ve got too many roosters. They sure are pretty. It’s too bad they’re such assholes.
“GIVE TO US THE FOOD AND NO ONE GETS HURT.”
For a while there, we had such wet weather that there was nowhere for the chickens to take their dust baths. In desperation, some of them started doing it inside the coop. Fred caught this one on camera.
What I love about having little kittens: watching them curl up and sleep with each other. So cute I go into sugar shock every time.
Bed capacity: holds four.
I love how he’s holding on to her like she’s a stuffed animal.
Joe Bob saw Newt run up the Poltergeist Tree and decided to join him. Then he wasn’t quite sure what to do. In the end, he had no problems getting down. Newt stayed up in the tree and took a nap.
Previously
2008: It smelled like evil.
2007: I think you can imagine our happiness.
2006: No entry.
2005: Always/ Sometimes/ Never
2004: Erin should be more concerned with the fact that he’s been killing people and burying them in the back yard and less with his lying.
2003: I believe there’s a seat in the ass-singe section with my name on it.
2002: Sucks to be her.
2001: “Fuuuuuuuuck,” he said.
2000: Don’t come back here looking for no entry, my friends.