For Christmas we bought our younger daughter a pet. Yes, I know. Pets are NOT gifts. Gifts are things you can exchange, or forget about, or give to Goodwill next week. Pets as presents? CRAZY TALK.
I am writing today to get something off of my chest, as well as my head and shoulders. Meet Kiwi.
The chickens have been w/ us 7 weeks, and although confident in my ability to care for them, I’m still feeling like a teacher with a new class. I can identify two of the chickens (the larger and smaller black ones) but the other 4 red ones, forget it. I speak to them sweetly and try to be impartial. Ooooh aren’t you cute, mumblemumblemumble.. and YOU, soandso….
You’ve seen their house. Inside its confines they have an endless supply of food and we’ve taken to dishing out additional treats. Our chickens like table scraps.
A month ago I introduced you to the adorable fluff balls known as Fred, Cuddles and the rest of the girls. AKA, our baby chicks. In just 4 weeks these formerly tiny chicks have morphed into big birds with fully functional wings. And once chicks start flying around the living room, it’s time they move outside.
My husband & I had to build a coop, and fast. But having never owned chickens before, let alone built a coop, we needed to do a little research before starting construction. We read a few books and found a photo of a coop we really liked. A quick Google search turned up plans for the “Playhouse Coop” shown below.
HOWDY ALL! Sorry it’s taken me so long for a new post. Last week was my older daughter’s graduation from elementary school and things have been BUSY. Back when I was in school, I don’t recall there being a celebration of this sort- more like we were pushed out the door and told to hoof it to the Jr. High the next year. But nowadays things are much more refined.
The fifth graders were feted with a bowling party, a pizza party, yearbooks and MORE. They even had a graduation ceremony, attended by sooooooooo maaaaannny loved ones that these were our seats.
WOWZA! Good thing I brought my glasses.
I’ve been hauling firewood the past hour. EXHAUSTING WORK. And no easier with 2 feet of snow on the ground. I have to keep the puppy inside b/c our yard isn’t fenced and she has a tendency (read: compulsion) to run off after the turkeys. So I come in this last trip and sense something weird is going on. I hear Noises. The puppy isn’t answering. I grab my camera because I just know whatever she’s doing is bound to be bad. I enter the dining room to find THIS.