there was something else i should have written today (a for real, honest, productive something), but we just finished the chicken run and thought that corrugated plastic would be a fine roof for the thing (we just have to clamp it to the chicken-wired slatted wood walls for easy feeding access or to sun the hens), but the weather thought otherwise.
maybe the clamps weren't strong enough; or. . .but, the plastic buckled under the water weight from one of those squalls we've been having, and, well, it really wasn't the disaster we needed this week: five hens stuck under that six foot corrugated sheet like cars on the bottom tier of a highway bridge post-earthquake.
i thought it was cute when asshole (one of our speckled hens) was laying on one wing stretching one leg out behind her while we were gardening, but seeing that same leg -- or maybe it was the other one -- stuck out from under the plastic with all of them squawking was something else. thank whoever that there wasn't any blood, because i faint. i used to LOVE horror films, but lately i can't even see obvious red stage makeup on that girl's legs in "the red shoes" without peeking through my fingers.
boots and mamasita weren't happy at all when we lifted the sheet off of them, and we've already been having trouble trying to get them to figure out how to find their way back into the coop from the run. we were hoping for eggs by the beginning of june, but i'll understand now when we still haven't gotten anything well into the summer.
that's the scenario i came up with when i left the house this morning for the coffee shop. i was pissed off that it was raining and i couldn't take my purse. and i didn't want to do any more work than i absolutely had to when i got there.
really though, i'm a good father.
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i am enjoying the phrase, "to sun the hens." mmm.
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