Heavy sigh. Where to begin? I started this little blog thinking I 'd never really get chickens. What were the odds that Mike would actually follow through with this? This would be yet another phase that he’d be all excited about, but then the next thing would come along and he’d jump on that. Okay, that sounds bad, and I’m sure I’ll blog the hell out of that sooner or later.
Then he found the coop and the seven little chickens that came with it. Fine. I thought that was it. Nice little brood of tiny little feathered friends. Well, guess again. After an almost lovely day out with the girls, the beach, Portsmouth for Friendly Toast, then onto Kittery to my favorite candy shop, we came home. To a surprise. A live surprise. Fourteen live little surprises. Ah, more chickens you say. Yes, more chickens. Twelve, an even dozen peeping little critters. A dozen adorable three day old little chicks. Now you’re thinking, but you said fourteen live surprises! Ducks. Two fucking darling ducks! Well, duckling since they too are only three days old. The boys had already named them Daffy and Donald. But I’m calling the little black one nibbler. Mark my words, s/he is going to be a pisser! Already biting, well nibbling, and being mean to the cutest, most confused little ducky I’ve ever seen. Donald to the boys, but Dizzy to me. We’ll see who’s names stick!
Then he found the coop and the seven little chickens that came with it. Fine. I thought that was it. Nice little brood of tiny little feathered friends. Well, guess again. After an almost lovely day out with the girls, the beach, Portsmouth for Friendly Toast, then onto Kittery to my favorite candy shop, we came home. To a surprise. A live surprise. Fourteen live little surprises. Ah, more chickens you say. Yes, more chickens. Twelve, an even dozen peeping little critters. A dozen adorable three day old little chicks. Now you’re thinking, but you said fourteen live surprises! Ducks. Two fucking darling ducks! Well, duckling since they too are only three days old. The boys had already named them Daffy and Donald. But I’m calling the little black one nibbler. Mark my words, s/he is going to be a pisser! Already biting, well nibbling, and being mean to the cutest, most confused little ducky I’ve ever seen. Donald to the boys, but Dizzy to me. We’ll see who’s names stick!
Now the real exciting news. It’s not enough that we’ve got these petite peepers and as we all know they need to be kept warm and out of breezes…did I mention it was windy enough here today to nearly knock my SUV onto it’s side….so where does a reluctant chicken farmer keep the newly hatched fowl. In her office of course. What better place? It’s safe, from wind, wild and domestic animals…including the four year old mother hen who wants to hold each and everyone of them. If anything could kill them it would be the tender touch of my heavy handed, love-filled wild child. If they make it past the first weeks inside with her, the wide-open world holds nothing new for them.
So wish me luck raisin’ up these critters. I’m planning to have chicken wings soon, before I can’t imagine eating my little chickens anymore! Let’s just hope to hell we don’t get a cow. I’d died without BEEF!
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