Thursday, November 29, 2012

chickens are bitches

It's been a while since I posted a chicken update. That's because they've been relatively lame, and just lay eggs (although not so much these days). Plus I didn't touch them when I was pregnant because I was pretty sure that touching chicken poo would make my unborn child grow a third arm or something. I asked the midwives if I could touch chickens, and they were like, "Um, I'm going now," and never answered my question. I'm pretty sure my farmer Aunt Shirley would throw side eye at me for even asking, but it got me out of the work so whatever.

Chickens have this spaz attack whenever they see blood. Like sharks. They see blood, and they decide to make more blood by pecking the crap out of whatever is bleeding. So that means if a chicken gets injured, the other ones will probably inadvertently (or advertently) kill it. They are not known for their empathy and kindness.

Greta used to be the HBIC of the coop. At one point, we even thought that she thought she was a rooster, because she wouldn't lay eggs and always beat up the other ladies. Plus she was the biggest. Unfortunately for her, the tables turned, and she became the bottom rung of the ladder. Maybe she stole one of the other chicken's boyfriends or something. The upside was that she started laying eggs. The downside was that the other chickens ripped all her feathers out. Greta looked like a house pet after a toddler gets his hands on some scissors. She was covered in bald spots and super mangy looking. I'm sure all our friends were accusing us of chicken abuse in their heads.

It's just a pecking order. It's natural, and it's usually not a big deal. But when I went outside to feed the brood a couple days ago, I noticed she was bleeding from both of her wings, and that bitch Judy was digging her beak into her open wounds. So I did what any good chicken owner would do, and I brought her into the house. Now she gets to curse those backyard skanks while she eats leftover pizza and apple cores.

I feel like I should earn some kind of plaque for being a chicken-wrangling, mouse-catching (for another post), breastfeeding mad housewife. I should probably move to Pennsylvania.

Friday, November 2, 2012

Birth Story in Photos

Presented without further comment. Courtesy of Agnes Kindberg Photography.