Thoughts and Images
This week, we got our first chicken. Henny Penny has been living for a time in my friend Katy's backyard after suffering the vicious attack of her fellow hens. When they brought her home from her coop at the stables–bloody from constant pecking and deprived of food and water–Katy and her kids nursed this hen back to health and were then stuck with her living in their small backyard. At some point, she called and asked would we like a chicken or two. Do you even have to ask?
The Saturday morning of Mikalh's birthday party we spent some time getting to know our new hen. Chickens, it turns out, are distinctly more intelligent than ducks. A low bar, yes, but one Henny Penny cleared with no difficulty. Just like she cleared the fenced enclosure we first installed her in. She flew up, snagged her talons onto the footrest provided by a dolly of Mike's and was out. We moved the dolly. She hopped the gate. We secured more chicken wire around the gate. She flew up into the rafters of my storage shed and met my dog. At this point, we decided to install a short gate across the yard separating her from the ducks. She'd be able to clear it, but they wouldn't, which should protect her from them. She found our front gate and got ready to tour the cul-de-sac. Three of us all worked double-time to prune back a rampant virginia creeper and turned on our electric fence. She was undeterred. Finally, in defeat, my husband, declared his intended absentia from the birthday party to build a proper, much taller chicken enclosure.
Now she's in.
But we are worried she will get lonely so I called Katy back to ask for another hen. At this point, worries began to surface about reuniting Henny Penny with any of the chickens who previously tried to murder her. Good point. I did a little research and it seems that, if I get her an adult hen, they will likely fight, and if I get her a younger hen, she will likely attack it. I have seen several schematics of subdivided chicken enclosures for the introduction of chickens–chicken jails. More construction. How appealing.
I think I may try a pullet. Good grief.
This week, I guest blogged over at the lovely Word Nerd's on the subject of a blog-eating cat. I finally answered my tag meme (and did it all wrong, on purpose, just like everything else I do) and I ruminated on high school for my GBE2 prompt. I am brewing a Team Ambiguity post for next week on the subject of race. If you've got a great article send it my way. I'm still looking for the perfect one.
From Maggies's Farm has the most incredible, soothing images on her blog, like grass and light and children melted into grace. All is right with the world.
Southern Fried Children is now doing sponsored posts. Here's her first: "Monistat Anti-Chafing Gel: Not your mama's vag cream!"
I don't have enough finds this week. It would be easier to find you new stuff if all my Twitter friends weren't selling porn. I really think that's the easy way out–much lazier than writing good content to just keep talking about dildos. I try very hard to stay away from that no matter how dried up I feel for material.
In fact, you should probably start thanking me for not talking about dildos every time I post, especially if it's crap. Because that's when you know it was really tempting.
Oh, and in advance...you're welcome.