It’s just like the crazy cat lady, only instead of a purse full of tuna and bathtub full of kitty litter, I have cracked corn in my pockets and bird poop running down my back.
No wait, come back! It’s not THAT bad… I just do weird chicken lady things like make hot grits for the girls
and call my chickens “the girls” just like I call my girls “the girls” which totally confuses The Hubster because I start rambling on about these girls and now he’s all “which girls” and I have to be like “the one’s that poop in the yard and peck my toes” and then he gives me a look that says “which girls?” because Tessa’s been known to do that stuff too.
I also am all paparazzi on their feathered asses. Mira and Tessa spend camera time shoving each other out of the frame or making faces that scream “I’m taking a dump” so instead of ripping every last strand of hair from my head (hahaha like much is left- this postpartum shedding is a bitch), I stalk my flock
Some of the girls are natural models
while other won’t deign to lower their beaks for a head shot or two
On occasion, when I make my grand entrance into the yard and 17 beaks of fury coming flying at me, a Pip (we call the black and whites collectively The Pips)
will rise up from the flock to land on my shoulder. I scratch her head and then have myself a wicked witch flying monkeys moment where I feel the urge to cackle and holler FLY MY PRETTIES FLY!
yeah, like I said- crazy chicken lady
and for a less chickeny and more thoughtful Fidget, click on over to Capessa to read me rambling on about manners
aw man, i’m jealous. i am a crazy chicken lady in the making.
I do miss having chickens now that we’ve moved into town. Yours look not much more than mere children
I recognise what I would call Marans and Warrens in my part of the world. I held them in great affection until the day I decided to release a tiny field mouse I had found into their paddock. They fell on it in a swoop, and field mouse was no more. I didn’t feel quite the same about them afterwards.
A.’s last blog post..PhotoHunt: blue
Chickens scare me. There too fidgity and nervous. Oh, I heart ALL animals, but chickens always seem to be preparing to peck my eyeballs out. And I like my eyeballs where they are.
Maternal Mirth’s last blog post..Maternal Lessons #1018, #1019, #1020 and #1021
Crazy chicken ladies scare me.
No wait, that orange jello with the fruit floating in it SCARES me.
Crazy chicken ladies make me feel better about myself and the chickens that live in my kitchen.
AtHomeDaddy’s last blog post..Adore the Princess. Or pay the price
Those are some nice lookin chickens…thanks for the laugh.
frogmama’s last blog post..Foreplay never looked so breezy
Oh, Honey. I couldn’t begin to mock you when I just came in from serving my chooks and turkeys a heapin’ helpin’ of scrambled eggs and yogurt, with a few apples thrown in for good measure.
And those are some GREAT chicken pictures! I want you to come over and shoot mine, now!