Vacay

I’m not really on vacation this week, Gentle Readers, but I am scrambling with a few things, and I wanted you to know that I’m still here and kickin’ and that I’ll return shortly to your regularly programmed blogging.

And . . . this blog post is dedicated to two people: my adorable daught Amalia, who mentioned quite innocently this week that I was probably incapable of writing a short blog post (as if!) and also for Gentle Reader Mark A., who made a wonderful comment on this post yesterday. I suspect that Mark and I are kindred spirits, and I totally wish I had some Amish neighbors, too, Mark. I know that Amalia and I are kindred spirits, which is a huge blessing.

Here’s Mark A.’s comment:

I drove nearly an hour to the butcher yesterday so I wouldn’t have to dispatch of these old hens and ornery roosters, myself. Call me a wimp if you like. It breaks my heart every year to do this, but it’s part of being a responsible chicken mama, especially if I add to my flock every year. Which I do. And especially if I don’t want to go broke feeding all these chooks. Which, I don’t.

The roosters look rough because they fight. All the time. The hens look fat because they eat. All the time, bless them.

The roosters look rough because they fight. All the time. The hens look fat because they eat. All the time. Bless them.

After the ordeal was over, (I’ll write about it later, when I’m not on Vacay) I was so rattled and a bit heartsick, too, and I drove off and left my chicken crates at the butcher. So now I will have to drive another hour (both ways) to retrieve my cages.

Bother.

That’s it. Can you believe it?

(Amalia: Boom!)

Oops! One more thing: I’m linking up to the Barn Hop over at The Prairie Homestead. Join me!

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