#... among other things

and this CUNT walks past all casual like this, looking all perfect and pristine:

i would fuckin

Anonymous asked: do you have chickens? if so, what are their names? what kind are they? :)

Anonymous asked: I’m assuming you have chickens, right? Tell us about them!

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… Alright let’s do this; here’s a shit ton of chicken feels, just for you guys.

I currently have a flock of six chickens residing in my backyard. A rooster and five hens: Buck Buck, Penny, Esme, Baby, Riley, and Skyler.

Buck Buck (above) is 8 years old. I’m not sure of his exact birth date, but I do know that he hatched sometime in early April. I should probably just stop being picky and just decide on a damn date, I swear to god… April 9th sounds good. Okay, it’s official.

I’m pretty sure he’s an Ameraucana. I honestly don’t know. He’s definitely a bantam though, since he’s on the smaller side, but that also means that he has more points on the fierce motherfucker scale. His beak is kinda fucked up and crooked for reasons unknown (resulting in the official diagnosis of "Wow Buck Buck, you have one crooked ass beak!") and his comb matches no known classification of comb. His spurs are kinda terrifying too. They’re curved rather than straight, LIKE GODDAMN DOTHRAKI BLADES.

He hates sneakers, most men, the color red, and me rolling him over to tickle his stomach, seeing as he jumps back up and fucking growls at me right after and stalks away to be with his girlfriends. He does have a nice side though when he’s not busy being a grumpy, middle-aged, testosterone-fueled war beast.

He is a gentleman. Besides the occasional spat he has with his true love, Penny (they are one of my OTP’s, to be honest), he is a pleasure to be around. He hops into my lap so I can stroke his carefully polished feathers (for any of you that have roosters, you know what I mean) and will pass the fuck out there if it’s sunny and he feels like sleeping. To hell if I’m trying to read, he’ll just peck at the pages until I give him what he wants, which I almost always do. He will even try to offer me a freshly killed insect, going so far as to drop it’s mangled corpse at my feet and make that jittery little clucking noise that means "Here, you lovely bitch, eat that."

Having been around a while, he’s gotten into all kinds of crazy shit as a result of him imprinting on me and me being a somewhat fucked up kid. This includes, but is not limited to: biking, sledding, skateboarding, hiking, and scootering. Don’t judge me.

He also almost got run over by a car once, which was fucking terrifying, but then shit got real wild when he started screaming at the driver. He also got locked outside at night once by accident, which as a chicken keeper is a BIG FUCKING NO. After searching though I eventually found him chilling on the wooden bench swing attached to our front porch, looking like a boss.

As a rooster, he’s also chased and challenged several other creatures. Cats, foxes, raccoons… and god knows what else I wasn’t there to see. Honestly, it’s a miracle that his ass is still alive, because he’s bright white and went years without the protection of an enclosed run. More evidence that he is undoubtedly a badass.

He also once overdosed on tomatoes. That shit was funny.

So yeah, that’s Buck Buck in a nutshell. I could go on for a while, but…

That’s Penny, Buck Buck’s lover. They sleep close together and facing one another at night because they’re romantic like that. The Arwen to Buck Buck’s Aragorn. Penny is also the alpha hen, so to speak, and fought for her right to be there. She is fierce as fuck, so no one questions her without getting their ass beat in return. But when she’s not asserting her dominance Penny is calm and collected. She is a Buff Ameraucana.

Penny has this weird dynamic that compels her to whack the shit out of me with her wings while I’m in the process of picking her up or putting her down, but when I’m actually holding her she’s fine. She laid tons of gorgeous blue-green eggs back in her heyday and let everyone know when she was done because she is the motherfucking queen.

If it’s cooler out she has the habit of burrowing her head into my jacket and falling asleep and fusses if I wake her up from moving too much. Penny also has the capability of pulling off one of the most superb bitch faces I have ever seen, complete with a growl/wail that let’s me know when something has displeased her. Other than that, she’s generally quiet.

That’s Esme, Eater-of-ALL-the-Things and Master Scavenger. If it’s edible, she will find it, and take it from you if need be. If I so much as touch the shovel in the garden she’ll sprint towards me because she knows that digging means worms. If I have a napkin she knows to leap up and rip it open despite me wanting to wait for later because that means oats or fruit slices. SHE KNOWS. SHE ALWAYS KNOWS.

Esme is a Barred Rock hen, which means that she comes with a hell of a sense of curiosity. I have caught her following around toads, okay? Just watching them and following them. I mean really. Like Tumblr but terrifyingly real.

She is also the biggest member of the flock, which means that she’ll barrel her way through vegetation to reach her destination because she just doesn’t care. Kinda like those big worm/fish ship things in The Avengers, careening through the city, heedless of the buildings. Yeah, that’s her.

Esme has the least bitch moments out of all of them. She enjoys being held and stroked like the rest of them though (once she’s had her fill, of course) and sometimes even likes it when I pet her face (though she has to be really tuckered out to allow this. God help your soul if she’s still hungry at the time). She is also the mother figure of the group, so come winter time when it’s cold everyone buries their faces into her fluff for warmth. She is the adoptive mother of Baby, and years later still tolerates her following her around and practically trying to lie under her at night. Shenanigans and drama usually ensues in those instances.

This is Baby. Her name is Baby because she hatched here in our yard under Esme’s watchful eye (while I was almost 7,000 miles away, of fucking course) and that’s what I called her “temporarily”. It stuck. Baby is Buck Buck and Ester’s (who passed away sometime after she hatched) daughter, so she’s half Ameraucana and half Golden Laced Wyandotte. She inherited her mother’s comb, feather pattern, and bitchy night behavior and her father’s size. Her coloring is a mix of both.

Baby loves water, so when I give them all bathes at the beginning and end of summer (a very, very dramatic affair, let me tell you) I leave her for last, because I know that she likes to sit in the water, prop her head on the rim of the container, and fall asleep.

If Penny is the Arwen to Buck Buck’s Aragorn, Baby is the Watson to Esme’s Holmes. They investigate new things together and otherwise raise hell, all the while being the best of friends. Esme almost always leads the charge though.

For whatever reason, Baby turns into a fully fledged rage monster at night. She will peck and growl at me if the coop is dark, despite hearing my voice. But when she’s not on one of her night rages, she likes when I pet her head and neck (which is something else she inherited from her mother). She’s tiny and scrappy, just like her dad.

So… yeah.