No controversy today, just chickens.
I’ve got bad knees (they’re not really bad, more like just a bit naughty) which means that when we have a significant amount of snow and ice in the yard, my husband is the one who goes out to the hen house to tend to the flock each morning. (We’ve found it’s a less expensive solution than going to the Emergency room for a knee sprain.)
I end up gazing longingly at my pretties from the safety of our living room while they look with cocked eye at my silhouette in the window – all of us waiting patiently for the warmth of spring to reunite.
Even our dog, Pippin is having a tough time. This is what is left of his dog run:
But today I decided – knees be damned. This morning, I put on my boots (Columbia, excellent tread) and made my way out to the coop. It is nearly engulfed in snow drifts. The front door was left slightly open during a snow storm and I’m afraid that we’re not going to be able to get closed it until the thaw.
Nice to see our wicker giraffe is still standing guard in the back.
The girls recognized and rushed over to greet me at the corner of the run. Wouldn’t you know Charlie was front and center and loudly clucking in conversation. I read once that chickens don’t retain memory.
Apparently someone forgot to tell Charlie that because *every* time she sees me she waddles over to say hi. Like a Grinch, my heart simply swells when she does that. Best Friends Forever.
That’s Charlie in the background being photo bombed by one of our Buff Orpingtons. As you can see, we have a little bit of comb frostbite going on (those black spots on the Buff’s comb.) It’s nothing severe and nothing I would even treat, but something I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on.
This weekend, we are supposed to get record breaking low temperatures. Not even my knees will be able to keep me away from the coop where I’ll be placing a few suet blocks and a seed block as added energy and fat for the flock. I know they’ll get through the weekend just fine, but it certainly won’t hurt to give them a small amount of help along the way.
And while I’m dropping off the food, I’ll tell them one and all, “Hold on, my lovelies, hold on. Winter can’t last forever.”
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
Also, join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.
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