As a reminder, I’m doing photo entries all this week because I LOVE YOU.
The Chickens of Crooked Acres.
This rooster is part Americauna – which I only know because Fred told me so, and which Fred knows because we’ve suddenly had a proliferation of blue eggs in the big coop. The rooster apparently determines whether the eggs are blue or not. Or something. I wasn’t really listening.
Brahma rooster (in the back) does not care for Americauna rooster. Americauna rooster is casually sauntering away from (the much larger) Brahma rooster very very fast. But he is not running, because he is NOT SCARED OF NO BRAHMA.
Teeny tiny Silkie hen. I tried to get a picture of her next to a Brahma so you could see how very tiny she actually is, but she was uncooperative.
“What?”
You’ve met Sassy McGee (the pain in the ass who sleeps in the big chicken yard and spends her days free-roaming around the property. At least she stays on our property and doesn’t wander onto the neighbor’s lawn, I’ll say that for her.). This is Sissy McGee, our second free-roaming hen. It’s entirely possible that she’s one of Sassy’s chickens – it’s hard to know. She likes to scratch around under the bird feeders and eat up any seed left behind by the wild birds.
YOU BETTER WORK IT.
I’m sorry, how could you possibly resist the striped belly o’ Corbett?
Reacher’s a kitten on the move. The instant he sees me (or becomes aware that I’ve entered the room), he races over to howl at me. This makes it somewhat difficult to get a shot of all four kittens.
Reacher, minding his own business, happens upon a crime scene.
“Kind sir!” cries Corbett, reaching out in desperation. “Can’t you please help me?”
“Well, goodness me, no,” says Reacher. “I am but an innocent passer-by who prefers not to get involved.”
“I do not know WHO you think you’re fooling,” says Corbett. “You’re a former military police officer who wanders the country with nothing but a toothbrush and the clothes on your back, but you couldn’t mind your own business if your life depended on it. Now get over here and save me!”
“By god,” says Reacher. “I do believe you are correct! I do have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, don’t I? Now pardon me while I take care of this scoundrel and get involved in a conspiracy that does not involve me in any way, shape or form. I will be the only one with the steely-eyed determined intelligence to identify and solve the problem. Solving this problem will undoubtedly require gunfire and perhaps explosions, and certainly I will need to make sweet love to the first hapless – yet incredibly insightful and brilliant – woman who stumbles across my path. Also, have I mentioned that despite the fact that it’s rare for two clocks to ever agree on the exact current time to the minute, somehow I will always know the precise time of day, no matter how many time zones I’ve crossed, how much torture I’ve been through, how much whiskey I’ve slammed down, and how concerned I am over the location of my toothbrush?”
Rhyme: “Huh?”
(Please note: the above might mean nothing to you if you’ve never read any of Lee Child’s Reacher novels.)
Tommy and Sugarbutt really believe in claiming their space. And everyone else’s space too, while they’re at it.
Previously
2009: IT WASN’T WATER AT ALL.
2008: No entry.
2007: Love you! Mean it!
2006: I am absolutely the last person on Earth you want in the vicinity if there’s an emergency.
2005: Questions answered.
2004: I am absolutely stunned that… I frankly couldn’t give less of a shit.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: I have to wonder, what the hell do all you skinny people do?
2000: Yes, this is a lame, short entry, but since y’all love me, you’ll be back. Right?