We received a premature and (to me, at least) unwelcome dumping of fat, wet snow last night. This was unseasonal and, with any luck at all, temporary. There was about an inch of it when I opened up the coop this morning, and the girls were unimpressed, to say the least. They usually tear out of the run when I open the door, and they stopped dead in their tracks this morning.
Right after I took this photo, the girls went back into the coop. I was in there cleaning, so the door that leads to the inside of the barn was open, and they decided inside the barn would be a much better place for them than outside. Ummm…girls? NO.
It’s not so much that I don’t like fresh chicken poop all over the barn floor, although it’s true that I don’t. More important than my sensibilities, our adolescent Great Dane has developed quite a taste for the stuff, which has her on roundworm meds already, and we haven’t even had her two months yet. Off the poop, Billie!!
So, I shooed them out the front doors of the barn, where they discovered (insert angelic choir chord here) The Man’s truck. They love The Man’s truck. It’s tall enough to get underneath comfortably, and they feel safe from predators, overhead and otherwise. Today, as a bonus, there was GRASS under The Man’s truck. SCORE.
They didn’t like it much when The Man started the truck, mind you, but were reasonably happy with the end result.
They especially liked the part where I served them a dish of warm oatmeal with raisins.
Yes, I did.