The Sad, Sorry Story of a Hen-pecked Cat

Maybe it was all the times we squirted her if she looked cross-eyed at the chicks.  Maybe she’s counted and realized the barnyard birds outnumber her one hundred to one.  Whatever it is, our cat has decided to gracefully give ground when the guineas come looking for her food–and they’re always looking for her food!

If Cats in the Christmas Tree is too Old Hat for you…

I promised myself I woudn’t hatch any chicks after the first of November.  For one thing, I knew I’d need to clear out all chick and incubator occupied corners to make room for the Christmas stuff.  For another, I wanted to make sure I’d be ready to hatch in the spring–even if our crazy birds’

What kind of gratitude do broken boots give you?

Muck, mud, puddles, poo, cold, nails, shavings, dirt.  These are all things my boots are supposed to protect me from, and all things they let in when they’re broken down and full of holes.  But as I head into the flurry of our Thanksgiving week, I’m grateful for my boots, in whatever shape. See, my

Never Underestimate the Dangers of a Fluffy Chick

This was supposed to be a fun little blog post about how our splash chick got a bath and his new name.  Of course, that was before the scary turn that had me anxious about going to sleep last night, for fear I’d dream of drowning in my sleep. The chick, of course, doesn’t look like he

You Can Take a Chicken to Watermelon, But You Can’t Make Him Eat.

Most of our chickens love watermelon rinds–it’s truly their most favorite treat ever!  Super Splash, our pet silkie, somehow missed the memo.  We were sad to see him missing out, so one day we offered him a piece.  Coaxed him toward it.  And finally tried to stick his beak in it. He was gonna love

Waking Up To Surprises–Or, In Other Words, Life

Guess what I found in the incubator this morning?  Mind you, this was NOT the hatching bator.  This was in an incubator that is dedicated to incubating eggs for all but the last three days before they hatch.  For those days, the sweet little egg’uns are moved out of the crowded topsy-tipsy bator and into a