Guest blogger Wende:
When we first got the chickens, I asked BJ how often they needed to be fed. "Twice a day," she answered matter-of-factly. "We'll never travel again," I lamented. That's not true. BJ has gone upstate to sing at the Bard Music Festival this week, and I'm home tending the ark: dog, cats, chickens.
I have to say that our little quarter-pound-egg-producers are less than docile at dinnertime. I'm feeling eerily like Suzanne Pleshette in The Birds every time I step out into the garden with a bowl of fresh greens.
Do life insurance policies cover acts of chicken?
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3 comments:
Hmmm ... or maybe Roger Corman's "Little Shop of Horrors" -- I can hear the voice of the big plant demanding "FEED me, give me to EAT!"
Watch your back, Wende!
--Col. Sanders, St. Paul, MN
My goodness - attack of the arc! All alone with those chickies...Wende, good luck!
That photo is fantastic! Can't wait to tend the roost in a few.
love, Lauren
horriable poor little chickens watch it sokka!!
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