Yesterday I spent a little bit of time out with the Girls.
The ones with feathers who live out in the Chicken Mansion.
I spend time out there regularly, I just don't take the camera. I've got two baby chicks I'm raising. I started with three, but one got out and was pecked to death. With the price of pullet chicks these days, I wasn't very happy with the adult girls and chewed them up one side and down the other.
They're just like my kids and ignored me.
My remaining two chicks--two Americana's--are doing well and growing quickly. I gave them a strawberry yesterday, but they didn't know what to do with it. It was still there this morning. I imagine I should just give up and give it to the adults. THEY know what to do with a strawberry! Anyway, while delivering the strawberry, I noticed that the young chicks were out of feed. So I grabbed the feed sack to remedy that situation.
I was minding my own business, chatting to the young things, as I opened the feed sack when something jumped out at me and ran up my arm! I let out a shriek, dropped the scoop, stood up, tried to knock that thing off me, at the same time it ran back down my arm and across the back of the chick pen behind the adult's feed barrel.
It's a wonder I didn't wet my pants too.
Once my heartbeat resumed it's normal pace, I calmly finished feeding the chicks and exited the building.
No one heard me shriek--and it was a shriek! No one came to see what was wrong. No one seemed to notice I wasn't in the house. It was almost like the day I locked myself in the Chicken Mansion...no one noticed.
So, if there comes a time when you don't hear from me for a couple of months or more--call my family and have them check the Chicken house to see if I'm in there, dead. Obviously, they won't notice if I'm gone!
