Due to circumstances beyond my control (as in, Cassidy is at a sleepover and can’t help me hook her camera up to the USB port of the hub/computer) we (as in you) don’t get to see pictures of the five most amazing little ‘can-do’ chickens ever. Ang and I both had our ‘chick trust account’ time today, and the little girls seem to be really coming around.
This evening was the first ‘clean out the washtub’ day. And let me tell you I re-read the directions (in my head, anyway) and remembered to put the newspaper UNDERNEATH the pine shavings (“never cedar; the fumes will kill them”, rang the Tractor Supply girl’s voice) (not out loud – in my head, right after the newspaper directions finished). Plus, in a spirit of full disclosure, I need to add the cost of Angie’s yoga block to the price of the eggs. My brilliant idea was to use her yoga block (bright blue foam-y brick about the size of those cardboard blocks in grade school that looked like real bricks. We could use them to “build a wall, kids! Won’t that be fun?!?” Right before nap time) as a riser to put the watering bottle on. This would greatly reduce the amount of pine shavings (never cedar…) (I’ll try to quit saying that every time) that end up in the water. After three days, the yoga block is covered in chicken poop and is irredeemable. Even I will never put that yoga block between any of my body parts to facilitate relaxation and stretching. Nope. So how much do those cost?
Our big news is that we officially see TAIL FEATHERS!!! The two Barred Rocks, one named Juevo (by Cassidy) and the other possibly named Barcelona (by Angie – who isn’t ready to commit, but likes the Spanish theme with both of the darker ones without being racist about it) have sprouted tail feathers. Look back at the start of this third paragraph again. “Now look at your man, now look back at this, now look at your man, now look at this. We are writing about chickens”. This is a big deal – the feathers thing. You know, they used to make quill pens out of feathers – before China found a way to make them out of plastic.
Of course, paltry words don’t do justice to our newest family members. I will bribe Cassidy with a rooster booster slushy to upload the pictures tomorrow while I am slaving away practically in the salt mines underneath Hutchinson. Or at least flailing away on Clearance Delivery, trying to remember what the computer entry is to allow an airplane to fly around Wichita.