Friday, November 21, 2014

Cold Chicken

It is too much to hope for a mild winter after the last few days, and counting our blessings here that we are not in Buffalo [ just a little schadenfreude going on…] with a 5' snow fall and more to come.  Here it has just been damned cold, too damned cold for just before Thanksgiving, and the hens' first winter.  Maeve, Magda, Martha, Minerva, Morgan & Mary don't know what any of this means yet, having only hatched out of a nice warm nest 6 months ago, but Mista Woosta is coming up on his 3rd round, so his behavior might be understandable.
A cold, grey and nasty morning, frozen everything and the girls are still motivated to turn over any leaf possible to see if there's something they missed yesterday, he comes out briefly has a look around, nails a hen or two and goes back to the perch until the sun has thawed the air out a little more.
By noon, the girls are racing around, being followed at a stately pace by their not very motivated caretaker.
 If there's enough sun, they will clump together under a tree, being indistinguishable from the leaves and rouse themselves only if they see me, whom they have come to associate with the kinds of food they can't find on their own.
Candy bars, ice cream, cake and other specialties.
The heater in the coop has died, and I'm hoping the new one gets here soon.  Though I am told that chickens can take it, I can't sit here in a warm house knowing I have birds who are re-enacting Jane Eyre only a few feet away.

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