Mr. Moon is home and Owen has been delivered safely to his baseball practice and they did not bring home a deer but they did get stuck in the red Georgia clay-muck and I hear that Owen loved the mud-bogging which was done not exactly on purpose but happened anyway.
I am glad to have my fella home and I'm sure that Owen's mom and dad and sister and brother are glad to have him home too. When Maggie was here she would occasionally ask, "Where Owen?" and when I woke Gibson up on Saturday morning he said, "I can't go to soccer! Owen is one of the coaches!"
He seemed genuinely distressed about this.
I assured him that the other coach could handle the situation but I'm not sure he believed me.
Owen is definitely the beloved big brother.
Okay. See that picture up there? That's three of the not-so-babies who were on the back porch today along with a bunch of other chickens. After I got them all off of the porch and back into the yard where they belong I blocked up the hole in the screen where they come in and made a pronouncement which was NO MORE CHICKENS ON THE BACK PORCH!
Look. It would be far more fun to have them keeping me company if they didn't just poop so randomly. I will never own another dog because of the poop factor and goddammit, chickens just poop everywhere and I don't need to be spending my time cleaning it up. Their poop should be outside where it can fertilize the yard.
So. What this means is, we probably need to fix the hole in the screen and also, no more feeding of chickens on the porch.
Dearie is going to be pissed. The other day she actually pecked my leg so hard it made a bruise, trying to alert me to the fact that she was indeed right there and needed food.
Good lord. Chickens are domesticated but not THAT domesticated.
So anyway, I had a pleasant morning and afternoon. Temperatures were warm and the sky was blue. I cleaned the nests in the hen house (speaking of chicken shit) and pulled up some more of the invasive Glory Flower and weeded a few rows of greens in the garden and also replanted beets.
Maurice helped me.
I finally have enough greens to make salads and I am thrilled beyond all appropriateness about this.
I realized today that the chickens have been eating the collard greens. Collards are their favorite greens and my plants all look as if someone with a pair of manicure scissors has gone crazy with them. They can fly over the fence and they do and well, also, I need a new gate on the garden fence. The one there now is falling apart and hard to close all the way.
What I really need is a system of raised beds to grow my vegetables in but I'm not holding my breath on that one. Mr. Moon already has about fifty projects ahead of that foolishness on the to-do list.
Or possibly one-hundred and fifty.
So that's what my day was all about. Chickens and poop and weeds and greens. After all of my bitching about my hens and roosters, you may wonder why I keep them in the first place.
And that would be one answer.
Of course the fact is, is that I just love them. They entertain and amuse me. They soothe and delight me. They sing and croon to me. And now, thanks to the lovely Jennifer at Sparrow Tree Journal, they have helped me to define myself. She sent me a link on Facebook which you can find HERE
By god, I am a Hen Wife!
And now I know.
Thank you, Jennifer. I feel so honored that you thought of me when you read that piece.
All right! That's enough. Gotta go cook some supper. Spicy mustard shrimp tonight with rice and of course, a nice green salad. A really, really fresh nice green salad.