Out at 11 to keep the water trough from slushing up. This time I took Pity on Rosalie and put her coat on. K bought it in the fall, and I don't think she has ever worn it before. She was not thrilled.
She said, "I - can just stay on the porch? Right?"
As a matter of fact, no, Rosalie, you cannot.
I can't even.
She did eventually get the hang of moving in it, but continued jumping into the air and shaking vigorously, trying to get rid of it.
Meanwhile, Hero and the gang are just hanging out by the haybale. Enduring stoically.
The part where I had to climb the damned apple tree, in my winter layers and boots, to force the idiot chickens to go in their coop does not bear talking about. There was hostile language on both sides.
@zooarchaeologyatdinner I'm wheezing, coughing, laughing, wiping tears away. You simply MUST tell the rest of the story.
π sometimes, one chooses to get err... a less modern breed of chicken. Like, say, Icelandics. And chooses to let broodies hatch out chicks because chicken is tasty, and hey, I got these birds in part because of their reliable brooding and mothering instincts.
Unfortunately this means that come mid to late summer, the cockerels are ready to strike out on their own ie. Stop sleeping with those silly grownups (alternate version as reported by the adult chickens: parents kick those absolute idiot teenagers out of the coop perches due to a serious case of Excessive Hormones and Unruly Behaviour) (a pattern that does seem to match with their jungle fowl ancestors)
Then, when one goes out to lock up the coop at night, one is faced with the tree nearest the coop being filled - up to a height of about 30' - with chickens who are convinced this is the Best and Only place to sleep. (To be clear there is significantly more indoor perch space than actually needed, they could and do all comfortably fit inside)
Choices at this point are:
a) feed the raccoons (not ideal on many levels including but not limited to that's *my* future dinner dangit!)
b) shake the tree (at best resulting in confused and irritated chickens landing on one's head, also not ideal)
c) get out the leaf blower because I have yet to meet a chicken that enjoys its butt fluff being suddenly blown backwards
So C it is. Which thankfully after a few days does result in being able to run the chickens out of the tree just by turning it on for a few seconds. They aren't stupid birds. But those first few days I do have to stand around under the tree (or on the coop roof) causally leafblowing my chickens.
It's the only reason we own a leaf blower.
I am ENTRANCED at the mental image. Thank you so much.
