I didn’t want my chickens to take over my Handmade Happy Blog (like they’ve done my LIFE), so I will just post updates on my lovies from here. I’m not just a cat lady anymore, but a crazed chicken lady too. What has become of me? You may have noticed that I said cats and chickens….why yes, they ARE a lot to handle, thanks for asking. The cats wanted to eat the chicks when they were little, but they were protected in their nice brooder Mister made them. The cats wanted to eat them when they were fully feathered and put out in the big house and run, but the chickens were somewhat protected by the chicken wire. Did you know that a cat’s arms fit perfectly into chicken wire holes? See, you learn stuff here, and that is important to me and my blog (actually my blog doesn’t care). My cats are different ages and although they are different sizes, their arms still perfectly fit through the chicken wire and try to grab the little chicks and what? I’m not sure, but it probably wouldn’t have been pretty. Then you have the problem of the chicks being quite stupid and they rush up to the chicken wire to see what this big furry thing is with his arm perfectly coming in through the wire with claws, and the chicks just stand there like “take us to your leader”. Now my chicks are pullets and I’m waiting for the big pay off – the eggs. They are near laying age, and getting bigger (one looks big enough for the oven). The cats would still like to eat them, but are more fearful than predatory around them, which is good because now the chickens get to free range for a period of time each day. In the evenings Mister and I sit outside while the chickens free range. The cats lay nearby and only swat if the chickens charge them, which they do, because they aren’t brilliant as I mentioned before. The cats have chased them too, but to no avail. The chickens flap their wings and make so much noise, and stick that creepy chicken foot in the cat’s face, that I thought my cat Bob keeled over dead from a heart attack. Bob really leaves them alone now. Skitty is a natural-born hunter, but now when he looks at the chickens, his eyes are as big as saucers and you see fear in them. Still I watch and make sure, but things are relaxing somewhat.
I will post pics and updates on the chickadees, and I hope you enjoy a little silliness. It’s good to have things to take your mind off the hard life out there. My chickens, although I fuss, have rewarded me already with bringing me back to a simpler life. It’s bringing me outside every evening after dinner to sit with Mister, and relax with the sea breeze, the only noise is the quiet clucking of the chickens scratching in some hay. We watch the sunset until the chickens go single file into the coop at dusk, and when my teenage daughter comes out to sit too, well there’s nothing better.