Disco Fever

Continuing my Phyllis, the wonder chicken, theme...

Each evening after sunset we close the chickens in their coop for the night. They always appear to tuck themselves into their nesting boxes and prepare to snuggle into sleepyland. But the more I think about it, I'm starting to suspect that my girl, Phyllis, has quite the night life. I'm thinking that girl of mine waits till she hears us close the back door, sneaks out of the coop, and dances under the stars.

Girl's got disco fever!

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Birds of a Feather...

...it turns out, really do flock together.

Especially when it's cold outside.  While we have four chickens that happily live in our back yard, we really know practically nothing about them.  So when I realized that it was supposed to get almost down to freezing last night and below freezing tonight, I consulted my chicken lovin' friends.


Me:  "What do I do?  What do I do?"

My friends:  Basically..."Nothing, they'll be fine.  They're birds and birds are designed to be outside."


OK, so nothing it is.


But I had to peek just to be sure, and those chickens were having an adorable group hug.

Chicken love....

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Chickens are a Lot Like Babies

Having chickens is a lot like having babies again.  You know, in a chickeny kind of way.  I find that I'm suddenly involved with one in particular who loves to be held all the time.  She will come right to me when I go out there.  She'll let me endlessly hold her while I whisper sweet nothings and rub her back.  She'll happily sit on my lap just looking around taking the world in...and occasionally poop or spit up.

Yup, pretty much like having a baby again.  I actually think I might need to create a chicken sling so I can do some chicken wearing.

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Phyllis

So we have this chicken.

Phyllis is her name...and flying her freak flag like Phyllis Diller is her game.  Her feathers are poofed out all over her head in the most chickeny 'fro ever.   She is awesome!


On top of having the best chicken look ever, Phyllis is the sweetest chicken you ever could meet.  When you walk through the gate into their part of the back yard, Phyllis is the first one to come a runnin'.  That sweet girl wants you to pick her up and put her on your lap.  And then if you'd just spend a good long time scratching her back and smoothing her feathers everything will be just perfect.

And then there's this thing where when she gets startled she runs as fast as she can in the opposite direction of said startle until she runs smack dab into something.

So she's a little heavy on the sweets and a little light on the smarts.  I say that makes for the perfect chicken.

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Chicken Run

So it turns out that chickens are really, really fast.


Let me just pause here for a second to let you know that now that we have chickens...in addition to dogs and cats...I think you should all be prepared to hear a lot of chicken stories.

Anyway, we're new to chickens so this is all a crash course for us.  Dave and I were pulling out the food and water dispensers to refill them and out ran one little chicken.  And by run, I pretty much mean like greased lightning.

And I tell you what, that little chicken ran like a little maniac around our back yard, through the fence to the neighbors yard, back through the fence to our back yard, then out the fence to the front yard, then back in our back yard, and when Dave opened up the door to the coop that little chicken scurried right on in.

Whew!

And then we got the chicken wire out and put it all along the bottom of our chain link fence.  We're fast learners on this chicken crash course.

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I've Got a New Job

Yup, I've got a new job.

And considering how imperative my boss made it sound, it must be terribly important.  Here's how the hiring went down.


Little guy:  "Come hang out with me while I work."  He was in the back yard working on building our new chicken coop.

Me:  "You're sawing.  I don't want to be in a cloud of saw dust."

Little guy:  "OK, then.  Hang out with me while I'm putting in screws."

Me:  "OK."

Little guy:  "And there's a job I need you to do.  I really, really need you to do this.  You're my mosquito swatter."

Me:  "How about if I just spray you with poison?"  (Yup, mom of the year, I am.)

Little guy:  "They don't care about poison.  You have to be my mosquito swatter!"


So how about that?  I'm a Mosquito Swatter.  I think I need a badge.

...and a monogrammed swatter.

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