One chapter (and chicken story) per day

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Camilla and Cami in front, assorted Barnevelders behind them. Snapped yesterday by my husband.

Still reading through Nothing More Complicated. And am happily amused by the silliest chickens in my realm...

So, chickens you say! Oh those chicksters.... Yesterday afternoon I was shoveling poo from along the wall, what I do every three or so days. As I shoveled, the chickens dug through the straw, looking for any additional kernels of seed. Occasionally they clucked when my shovel moved too quickly for their liking, LOL. I noticed the dustbath box, or dustbox as we've started calling it, needed to be stirred, so I went for my stick, not shutting the coop door firmly closed. And suddenly I notice Owl Chicken slipping through the gap, making her getaway from the coop.

Okay, I thought, you naughty chicken! Then more rightly I berated myself for not closing the door properly. Lol not lol! She was NOT KEEN on being coerced back into the coop, far more willing to explore her newfound freedom in an area not previously encountered. We took a stroll, or more rightly I swiftly walked after her, and fortunately she headed to familiar ground, that of the grassy area between the run and garden. I opened the run door, the rest safely in the coop, and finally maneuvered her to where getting into the run was her only option. She squawked a little, once ensconced, and I smirked, and that was the end of that escapade!

Before we acquired poultry, my afternoons were full of sewing. That seems to rarely occur now, a portent of things to come? I don't mind shoveling poo, or washing feeders and waterers or tossing gravel into the muddiest part of the run, near the door as you can imagine, or adding gravel to the path I made about ten days ago after enough rain had fallen, turning the grass into dirt-like sludge. I don't mind because 1) I'm young enough to do all this easily and 2) I'm happy to add these tasks to my routine. And I'm sure there are other reasons, like God has this in mind for me, and my husband, as he certainly takes his share of the chores, like hauling the wheelbarrow of chicken poo to a growing heap of, well, poo-laden hay. And while we might not have fully taken on board ALL THAT GOES INTO OWNING CHICKENS WHEN WE SIGNED UP FOR THIS GIG, we're handling it with aplomb. And when said chickens actually lay an egg or two, oh my goodness, let the true joy begin!

And I am VERY GRATEFUL to read a chapter of my next book on the block every morning. Most mornings; yesterday I didn't read, but we had errands and.... And today I did read, so all's good. All is good, what I have to remember concerning chickens and novels and life in general.

The other notion to note is that before chickens, and our abysmal current government, I rarely pondered the government (those seem like ancient days), and I certainly didn't fathom owning hens. I worked on my manuscripts, turning them into novels. I made quilts. Years past I was heavily involved in taking care of grandkids. Years before that I looked after my folks. Years before that I.... I raised teens, who had been youngsters, who had been infants, and back and back it goes, as if tripping down Past Me's lane was as easy as following Owl Chicken with a rake in my hand. They don't like the rake, it's what my husband bandies about when we need to get them into the coop. I holler COOP COOP COOP and he waves the rake and they cluck, making their ways toward the ramp, then into the coop. I close the door to the coop as he slogs back toward me, the run a wet, messy affair now that the rainy season had moved in. When my kids were babies, or the grandkids that age, I never imagined living in Humboldt County, owning chickens!

Owl Chicken feeling on top of her world, lol. Photo by my husband, from yesterday.

When my kids were tiny, I dreamed of writing fiction, I will say that. And now I'm fifty-nine and a half years old and I have a couple dozen books under my published belt, hey hey hey! And the world keeps spinning, good and bad and atrocious activities happening all over this big blue marble. And within my little sliver of it are chickens and love stories accentuated by trips to other galaxies and Christ's grace covers it all.

One chapter (and chicken story) at a time, thanks be to God! 

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