[From April, 2016]
This has not been the best week.
Except for one big thing. On Tuesday night, we went out in our back yard to forage for henbit, an edible spring weed. In case you're wondering, we have mostly the look-alike, Purple Dead Nettle, which - despite the name - is also edible. Our next door neighbor was also out and called, "Hey, do either of you know how to clip a chicken's wings?" [I love our neighborhood.]
I pointed at Caleb. We'd never discussed this before, but the man is full of surprising knowledge about things like this. This started a long conversation about our neighbor's new chicks, how this one wasn't getting along with the others, how Caleb and I wanted chickens eventually, how you could eat the chickens once they were past their egg-laying prime, [aside moment to hold their new teacup chihuahua puppy], how Caleb knew the best way to kill a chicken... I went inside.
About 20 minutes later, Caleb walked in our back door. "So, we have a chicken now." His hands were cupped around the small white bird previously being discussed. We welcomed her, played with her, named her Sadie, put her in a box with some of the feed from our neighbor, and had our first pet.
Tiny Sadie lived in a cardboard box in our living room while we figured out a better solution for her. We would race home from work to take her out in the yard to play. This bird would run around and then dive into our laps to cuddle and warm up. We would let her take dirt baths in our houseplants and then lay next to her on the rug while she laid peacefully in the sun.
These were such beautiful days. Eventually, she outgrew the box, and Caleb had finished building a coop. We took her out there to play on the coop during the day, and at night, we put her box inside it, so that she could feel at home. She panicked. She fluttered around trying to get out as the sun went down. Caleb and I were both out there with her, and I asked Caleb to close the coop door with me inside. He complied and out of instinct, also locked the door. It got darker and darker, and Sadie's panic did not abate. Finally she fell asleep roosting on my arm as I sang to her. (Yes, I know.)
I gently transferred her to the roosting pole in the coop. She rocked slowly, making gentle chicken sleep clucks. I smiled and crept to the door of the coop and found it locked. I reached for my pocket - nope, no pocket and no phone. I started laughing - eventually Caleb or my brother would realize I was out here, right? Surely...
Caleb was watching from the window and realized what happened, and I was quickly freed from the coop. Sadie loved her new coop after that night. I'm convinced it was the singing.
This has not been the best week.
Except for one big thing. On Tuesday night, we went out in our back yard to forage for henbit, an edible spring weed. In case you're wondering, we have mostly the look-alike, Purple Dead Nettle, which - despite the name - is also edible. Our next door neighbor was also out and called, "Hey, do either of you know how to clip a chicken's wings?" [I love our neighborhood.]
I pointed at Caleb. We'd never discussed this before, but the man is full of surprising knowledge about things like this. This started a long conversation about our neighbor's new chicks, how this one wasn't getting along with the others, how Caleb and I wanted chickens eventually, how you could eat the chickens once they were past their egg-laying prime, [aside moment to hold their new teacup chihuahua puppy], how Caleb knew the best way to kill a chicken... I went inside.
About 20 minutes later, Caleb walked in our back door. "So, we have a chicken now." His hands were cupped around the small white bird previously being discussed. We welcomed her, played with her, named her Sadie, put her in a box with some of the feed from our neighbor, and had our first pet.
Tiny Sadie lived in a cardboard box in our living room while we figured out a better solution for her. We would race home from work to take her out in the yard to play. This bird would run around and then dive into our laps to cuddle and warm up. We would let her take dirt baths in our houseplants and then lay next to her on the rug while she laid peacefully in the sun.
These were such beautiful days. Eventually, she outgrew the box, and Caleb had finished building a coop. We took her out there to play on the coop during the day, and at night, we put her box inside it, so that she could feel at home. She panicked. She fluttered around trying to get out as the sun went down. Caleb and I were both out there with her, and I asked Caleb to close the coop door with me inside. He complied and out of instinct, also locked the door. It got darker and darker, and Sadie's panic did not abate. Finally she fell asleep roosting on my arm as I sang to her. (Yes, I know.)
I gently transferred her to the roosting pole in the coop. She rocked slowly, making gentle chicken sleep clucks. I smiled and crept to the door of the coop and found it locked. I reached for my pocket - nope, no pocket and no phone. I started laughing - eventually Caleb or my brother would realize I was out here, right? Surely...
Caleb was watching from the window and realized what happened, and I was quickly freed from the coop. Sadie loved her new coop after that night. I'm convinced it was the singing.
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