A few weeks ago someone e-mailed me about raising chickens and asked if it was worth it and I wrote her back and said yes, very much so but that the first thing you have to realize is that you're going to get attached to these birds and you're going to end up losing some and that's all there is to it and so be prepared.
Last night we lost Miss Trixie. Mr. Moon came in from shutting the Elvis and the hens up in the hen house where they roost and he said, "There's only five hens."
I went out and sure enough, only five, and Trixie was missing.
This morning he found her in the yard, seemingly whole except for some missing tail feathers and we're thinking maybe a fox got her and couldn't drag her off. She was not a tiny chicken. But who knows? It's always a mystery except for the time we actually witnessed a hawk swooping and grabbing a youngster chick and flying away with her over the railroad tracks.
Yes, it's almost always a mystery and definitely always a sadness and this morning Elvis can't seem to convince the hens to leave the henhouse. Chickens are not stupid.
I guess that today is a work-in-the-yard day. I need to get more of the garden weeded. Mr. Moon thinks he can get a second planting of tomatoes in but I'm not convinced. We'll see. Right now I just don't feel very optimistic about much of anything and we all have those days. Lily and the boys are coming to spend the night before our departure tomorrow so that Jason can work on the bathroom in their house without interruption. This trip to Weeki Wachee is a two-fer. We get to see the mermaids and Jason gets to finish the bathroom re-do.
And now one of the hens is out. I think it's Miss Sharon, and Elvis is dancing and chasing her all over the place, trying to convince her that a little mornin' lovin' might be in order but so far, she's resisting his charms.
Okay. Mr. Moon has on his overalls and is on his mower. I guess I need to get my ass in gear too. I need new overalls. Every pair I have has broken strap hardware and is being held together with vintage diaper pins. As if my look wasn't funky enough already. For some reason, I haven't been able to score any good overalls at the Goodwill in over a year and I refuse to buy new ones. Well, I say that but I may be forced to.
This is my life. Chicken slaughter by wildlife, overalls held together with diaper pins, and working in the dirt. It's not all shrimp and grits and martinis, y'all. But tomorrow night we'll be glamming it up at the Motel 6 across the street from Weeki Wachee so there is that.
What are you up to today? I'd love to know.
I'd say "Happy Saturday!" but I just don't have it in me. Poor Trixie.