tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59493178498718241792024-02-19T08:37:22.990-08:00Chronicles of a Chicken LadyNothing is better than a day on the farm!The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.comBlogger210125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-4177986891515912852016-05-14T08:40:00.000-07:002016-05-14T08:40:05.237-07:00A Strike-Less Spring for Chicken Lady<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Peaceful Spring for Chicken Lady</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Written By: Jack Kelly of the <em>Manhattan World</em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> This reporter has covered numerous breaking stories that have taken place on the Shawhan farm. I am so used to getting a juicy beat on the place, I have often times considered it a second home of sorts. Now, however, it has been months since getting a late night or early morning phone call from the residence, that I decided to drive out there one day and see if everything was going alright.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> After driving down the one lane road and passing numerous Amish buggies, I approached the white farm house and fenced in property with caution. As I pull up short at the beginning of the driveway, my path is blocked by a set of black gates sung shut to keep unwanted guests out and a little redheaded boy in. The reporter in me is also assuming the structure is there to prevent Amish poultry scabs off the property since this place is legendary for its yearly egg laying strike.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Soon I hear chain on metal and the Chicken Lady herself is opening the fence for me so I can drive through. Upon parking my vehicle, I am greeted by Ms. Shawhan at the passenger side window. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "What are you doing here?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Well, I wanted to check in on you...I haven't heard anything out of your camp in quite some time."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Even from behind the sunglasses I catch a quizzical look.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "You say it like its a bad thing."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I can't answer as I step out of the car. My job depends on good stories and in years past this place has always offered plenty of fodder. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Can I offer you a beverage?" She asks dryly and I am suddenly reminded that the Chicken Lady doesn't like me very well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Do you have any of that tea?" I ask and can taste the notorious Shawhan ice tea/lemonade mix already exploding across my taste buds. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Sure. One moment."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I take the few minutes to look around at my surroundings. It's quiet except for a few distant clucks and a constant whirring noise from across the yard by the tree line. There I see little Carl riding a battery powered John Deere tractor completely oblivious to my arrival. He is leaning almost off the tractor on the right hand side and studying the spinning wheels. Then from behind me I hear a noise and jump clean out of my Doc Martins. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I see for the first time Baby Abigail gaze up at me from her stroller, blue eyes wide. As her mother comes from the house with two glasses of tea, she squeals loudly again. I fail to mention to Ms. Shawhan that her child sounds a lot like the veliciraptor from <em>Jurassic World</em>. Cute baby though.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "So you're paying a courtesy call?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I sigh and lavish the few seconds I have in my tea. Might as well cut to the chase. "I was wondering if your chickens are going on strike this year. I mean, they always do."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> To my amazement, she smiles. "HA! That's funny. Actually, no. They aren't. Everyone is very happy this year. I know it's a first."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Hmm." My heart sinks. Goodbye Caribbean vacation this year. This reporter won't be getting his annual bonus.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Sorry to disappoint you. We didn't get any chicks this year-"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Tea sprays all over my Doc Martins.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Seriously!? Are you for real?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "I'm sorry." I murmur as I pat my dripping chin with a pressed hankie. I clear my voice. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware. I mean...you always get new chicks." And then your adult birds are always p.o.ed, I add silently.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Yeah, well we're allowed to take the year off." She retorts. "I was sad about it at first, but now I'm glad we did. With Abigail only a baby right now it's one less thing to do in a day's time. Plus the girls are really happy. I don't know if it's the mild weather or more space in the coop, but we get 20 or more eggs a day now. We've never had a spell like this before."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "How many chickens do you have now?" I ask, whipping out my pen and paper.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "This is going on the record?" She asks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Now it's my turn to give her a look.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> She sighs, "Fine. 31 hens and 1 rooster. 32 in all. Over the next year we'll have to cull out the older biddies and next year get a good number of new chicks. That's the plan anyway. But yeah, no strikes. Not a single rumor either."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The ink isn't even dry on the number 31 when I realize that is all I'll get story-wise out of the Shawhan farm on this visit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As the baby begins to fuss and Carl cries out for help as he spins and spins the wheels of this tractor and doesn't go anywhere, Ms. Shawhan sets down her empty glass and sighs. "You'll have to excuse me."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Of course. Thanks for your time...and the tea."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Sorry you didn't get a good story." She calls over her shoulder on her way to address the first issue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "I'll see myself out!" I call.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Driving away I realize how much I'll miss the week in the sun and sand, but I am happy peace seems to reign for the Chicken Lady and her birds. Her days are filled with enough drama and mishaps and fussy young ones...besides...there is always next year!</span></div>
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The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-49151893325978412402016-04-18T18:11:00.001-07:002016-04-18T18:11:50.998-07:00Gone Goliath<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We once had a rooster, and pretty was he,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As tall as a house and as regal as could be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A giant of a bird so I called him Goliath,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We kept him around because he did something for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Goliath was a pleasant poultry lad,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Mild in manner, he was never ever bad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Due to his size, I was quite surpriseth,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He dealt with many a hen and never got mad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So we eased into a comfortable routine,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">With two gentle roosters who never got mean.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">All seemed well and we figured it would forever be so,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">With two strutting males who just<em> had</em> to be seen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then in the eve Goliath refused to go into the coop,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He'd roost on the old feed trough above all the poop.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It made us question if he had made a true foe,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">With one of the other birds who threw him out of the loop.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Again we relaxed into a comfortable lot,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(At the end of the day not all chickens can be caught.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Until I had that moment from 'Home Alone',</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When I realized Goliath was gone...so for him I frantically sought.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He was gone from the coop, gone from the kennel and not with the steers,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">At least I couldn't see him, not through all of my tears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He just vanished without leaving a feather or bone,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">No note no nothing to calm my worst fears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So now he is gone, and it's such a mystery,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Goliath is gone, he must be history.</span></div>
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The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-71761812213166133702016-03-18T11:56:00.001-07:002016-03-18T11:56:40.660-07:00Empty Nest<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHX8VNTUu3S3H1RP0NcGqJwI_Xd3pte4EAtReW58kjrNLe2aBYcADlkXeyXlFIaAasBp0SORc9e6sTxIcibwIPZGBOudq4jnySd7yX1aNqP-s7sOa_aNH-fQPev-3gjx_HyNcWK_A4ZMQ/s1600/20160312_132722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHX8VNTUu3S3H1RP0NcGqJwI_Xd3pte4EAtReW58kjrNLe2aBYcADlkXeyXlFIaAasBp0SORc9e6sTxIcibwIPZGBOudq4jnySd7yX1aNqP-s7sOa_aNH-fQPev-3gjx_HyNcWK_A4ZMQ/s320/20160312_132722.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's that time of year again! The grass is turning green, the flowers are opening up despite the lingering nip in the air and lawn mowers have begun to make their seasonal appearance...Spring has sprung! (Even though technically it starts on Sunday.) All of the aforementioned clichés have happened on the Shawhan farm... except for one. Sadly we have not gotten our yearly batch of chicks. And this year we have decided not to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> I'm a little bummed about this. It's been a standing tradition to take a Saturday morning and get our chicks for the past four or five years now, even as a way to "celebrate" my birthday. Bringing home baby chicks is the epitome of Spring (next to Easter that is). Now the dates have come and gone and time is just whizzing right by...we have never gotten chicks this late into March before, although there isn't a law saying you have to raise chicks in Spring or get them by a certain date. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> We've decided to make several changes to the Shawhan farm this year and hopefully in years to come. For this year we've added another raised bed for peas and decided not to plant sweet corn in the big garden. I will be up to my elbows this summer freezing, canning and making as much baby food as the soil will provide for us. Have I mentioned I want to put in a standing fence in the yard for raspberry bushes?? Oh and I'm banking on all those strawberry plants I planted last year to produce their little butts off!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> We aren't looking at this as the beginning of the end. Only a new beginning by trying to thin out the old crowd (not sure when or how this is going to happen but it will over the course of the coming year), so we can start fresh with a new batch of ladies next Spring. That is the goal anyway. I want at least 20 or more next year. Hopefully by then we will have made the changes to accommodate an ever growing flock!</span></div>
The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-11675573831573708152016-02-26T12:24:00.004-08:002016-02-26T12:24:55.553-08:00Home is Where the Nest Box is<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">How many of you are enjoying this typical Ohio weather? One day it's 61 degrees and the next it's back down to 32 and snowing again! No wonder everyone has a runny nose and itchy throat. However, nothing about Ohio weather surprises me anymore. Thankfully the weather has been corporative in the respect that the nice days seem to be falling on weekends. I can deal with that...save the cruddy weather for the weekdays.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Last weekend was no exception. It was gorgeous! Sunny and breezy with that hint of spring in the air. It was the kind of teaser day that made you want to go out and buy flowers and dig in the dirt. Too bad the 7-day forecast said snow again or you probably wouldn't have stopped the twitching in your hands. Luckily we had some chores to be done here on the Shawhan farm and a spring-esk day was the perfect day to get it done.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We have planned some changes for the Shawhan farm. I'll tell you about them as they happen. Last weekend was a jumping off point so to speak for one of them and honestly, I don't know why we haven't done this sooner!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Cooptown has been looking a little cramped to me for quite some time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We had two nesting areas for the cluckies (the regular nest box and the rarely used vertical nest box), the oyster shells were located in front of the vertical box on the floor, and the waterer on the heating pad has been of opposite that. Dan designed a roof over the water a couple of years ago to prevent poop from falling in the gals drinking water; a very nice and extremely useful construction, yet it does take up some space. Other amenities in Cooptown included the roosting perches and of course the feeder hanging from the ceiling. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">'Go Big Or Go Home'</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">is still the motto around these here parts, so I'm always itching to grow our flock, garden, sustainable food sources <em>etcetera, etcetera, etcetera</em> .................................. we've even increased the number of Beefy Boys on the property. So after an insightful <em>Bob Evans</em> breakfast with my father-in-law, I've realized that change is going to come in baby steps. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Baby step number one was reached last weekend when we moved the nest box out of Cooptown and into Kennel Bar. Since the ladies lay their eggs during daylight hours (no vampires in the chicken world!) they technically only need to be in the coop at night. We figured if the nest box was moved into Kennel Bar, it would make more room in the coop for roosting perches. Since Kennel Bar is quite a large space and the chickens have access to the steer lot all day, we calculate that we have room for expansion within our flock and facilities. With the nest box out of the coop, when we increase our poultry numbers, we hopefully won't have an issue with overcrowding.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A little spring cleaning to freshen up Kennel Bar...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Don't worry, his head isn't stuck. He just had to add his two cents on the job I did!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Don't worry, his head isn't stuck. He just had to add his two cents on the job I did!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Here we go!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Where are Gabe and Bam from <em>Alaskan Bush People</em>???</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My dream scenario would be to eventually make Kennel Bar into the actual coop. What is now Cooptown, I'd like to make into a storage room for feed, shavings, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera..................................OR turn it into the brooder/isolation room for sick chickies. My other dream scenario is to buy the little white house next door and turn it into the Taj Mahaal of chicken coops...but my money tree didn't produce last year.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Did yours???</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In the meantime, I'll settle for the changes that have been made. Now the nest box is located in Kennel Bar and Cooptown has a little more breathing room.</span> </div>
The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-23561131024174006022016-02-18T13:18:00.000-08:002016-02-18T13:18:07.558-08:00RED<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I really wanted to post this on Valentine's Day (as the title is the color of valentines) but life got in the way and well, it just didn't happen...but Happy (Late) Valentine's Day everyone!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I've dedicated this post to a chicken I've started calling<em><span style="background-color: red;"> RED</span></em>. I call her <span style="background-color: red;"><em>RED</em></span> not in a positive way but from a place of anger. No I'm not bullying her out of jealousy...I'm already a unicorn and have my own red hair. I'm calling her<span style="background-color: red;"><em> RED</em></span> because this little chick-a-dee rubs me the wrong way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="background-color: red;"><em>RED</em></span>. There are a plethora of names out there to call red heads these days. Some nicer than others. Some have been outdated...for example I don't really hear "carrot top" used anymore probably because it's been replaced by "ginger". (I don't really get the use of the word "ginger"...it's like whoever made it up was really grasping for straws when they thought of it. Not only does it remind me of ginger root, but also that beautiful chestnut mare in <em>Black Beauty </em>and sometimes if you catch me on a good day, when I hear it I just want to channel my inner Ginger Spice and bust out a dance move or two while singing "Zig-a-zig-AHHHH!") Ok, sorry I got a little sidetracked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Of all these names I think I hate <em>RED</em> the most. Like it's so original people have to call you that to get your attention. Because they are such original people and can't think of anything better to say. When I hear the name <em>RED</em> being used when someone is talking about me or to me I literally feel the wind sucked from my sails. My eyeballs can't reach any further in the back of my head. It's as dull as powder. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There has only ever been one person in recorded history that I haven't minded them calling me <em>RED</em>. Old Richard Chandler. He was kind enough to put a "Miss" out in front and let me throw whole bean plants at him out in the bean field. (Sorry Grandma!) Anyone else will be ignored for their lack of creativity. The only reaction you might get out of me is something as equally lackluster like, "Hey Blondie!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So it's with these attached connotations that I call this bird <em><span style="background-color: red;">RED</span></em>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I don't think<span style="background-color: red;"><em> RED</em></span> has spent a night in the coop for probably months. Or if she has, then she is a permanent escapee.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It has sadly become a common sight around the Shawhan Farm to see this girl out and about, even on the other side of the fence and inches from the road, peeking and scratching. A NASA space ship can probably see her hoard of eggs miles above us because trust me we haven't found a stash to raid daily. (If she's not laying inside the coop then she's laying outside the coop.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Aside from her top secret egg cash, <em><span style="background-color: red;">RED</span></em> was also part of an elite hole digging operation in the gardens and under the trees here at the Shawhan Farm. This past fall Carl and I raked level all the empty flower beds. We spent an entire morning blistering our hands with those rakes and my esophagus burned from pregnancy-related reflux, but we had the grounds around this place looking comparable to one of the royal palaces. That afternoon what did I look to see? <em><span style="background-color: red;">RED</span></em> and her counterparts selfishly indulging themselves in dust bath and scratching in the newly raked dirt. It. Was. Everywhere. Bush and tree roots now lay exposed thanks to those birds. I literally saw <em>RED</em> that day. I called Dan and threatened to shot her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><span style="background-color: red;">RED</span></em> is living on borrowed time as I see it; not just from her daring escapades to the road but also with my tolerance. I made peace with myself long ago that I felt such traitorous feelings towards a sister in the ginger and now all that is left is pure annoyance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Dan says the day he cleans the steer lot out will be the day he finally discovers how she is escaping the confines of the steer lot, but this girl is good. Like, really good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So when you visit, please ignore the craters surrounding our house and please watch your step, as we don't need to sprained ankles. It's all the work of <em><span style="background-color: red;">RED</span></em> who has successfully made this chicken lady throw her arms up in defeat.</span> </div>
The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-57932225285375263052016-02-10T12:39:00.004-08:002016-02-10T12:39:56.088-08:00They Say That Becca's Back<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Can I just say "WOW!"....and not in the Flava Flav type of way...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's been soooooo long...for a lot of things. Blogging, chickens, being creative.<em> A lot</em> has gone down since I last posted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A couple of years ago I attended our church's annual Ash Wednesday services and committed myself to not only give up something near and dear to my heart for 40 days, but to <em>DO</em> something near and dear to my heart for 40 days. I was going to write something everyday and sling shot myself into the daily discipline. It worked too for almost two years; no matter how late a journal entry was or how busy I was or how many episodes of <em>The Real Housewives</em> I had DVR'd, the second Carl went down for his nap I came to the office, opened my laptop and typed away dreaming of book tours and book signings. Man was I popular in my fantasies!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The day I found out I was pregnant obviously was a journal-entry day (as those big events are usually reserved for the books in which we record our thoughts and emotions) but something happened. All my creative juices that buzzed through my veins was suddenly redirected to the daily care of my son and the epic job of creating a new life (a nine pounder I may add!) I had nothing left at the end of those muggy days...all I could do in the evening was crawl to couch and watch Caroline Ingalls do it all on the prairie and still have the energy to run out the door at the end of the day and say "Oh Charles!" with more enthusiasm than is believable. (I still love her though.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So...that's where I was for the past, I don't know, more than nine months now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But, I'm happy to say that as the last whisper of postpartum pain diminishes, it is replaced with an old fire, an old pulse that still beats deep inside of me and that is to write and create.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Something that bugs me about pregnancy is the fact that you are made to sit out on the disabled list. I hate the DL...probably because I've been blessed enough in my life not to have had to spend a lot of time there. But thanks to 21st century law of wussiness, (I really want to use a stronger term here) one who is with child cannot do an array of daily/normal activity, despite what is portrayed on episodes of <em>Little House on the Prairie.</em> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> This time "away" gets you in a whole new mind set so that when you are officially cleared back to health and back to normal again, it feels odd at first that you don't have that "I'm pregnant" excuse. Your whole thought process is different. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For example: the day I found out I was expecting, I'd bought a 20 ounce Mt. Dew (judge me as you will). I'd taken like two sips of the thing, watched as the positive sign was revealed, tried to keep from passing out on the toilet, then threw the rest of the Dew away. Fast forward nine months and I'm heaving a wheelbarrow full of horse poo out of the stall and that voice taps my ear and says, "Should you lift this? You're...oh wait. No you're good! Not pregnant anymore!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And so...I'm back. Even though I can't make any promises how consistent this is going to be, I have been feeling those old vibrations of my past self more and more lately. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A nice day not too long ago, Carl and I were in the barn cleaning stalls. As we went through the old and familiar motions I could feel the wheels begin to turn in the creative side of my brain, despite the rust and cobwebs that had grown there. Funny how such a place can generate such a strong spark, but it's always been that way.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">And funny too that today is Ash Wednesday, the day it all began not so long ago. Things have really come around full circle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">And lastly, for all the time spent on the DL, the empty pages that have yet to be written, the eye rolling of pregnancy rules and the self berating that you didn't have Caroline's energy during the first trimester, you'd go through it all over again in a heartbeat to have the latest addition to your family. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";"><div style="text-align: center;">
<br />Welcome Abigail Catherine!</div>
</span>The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-73041330319608810502015-07-03T11:31:00.001-07:002015-07-03T11:31:30.064-07:00Calling Caroline<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> So lately I've been feeling an attachment with Caroline Ingalls (mother of Laura Ingalls Wilder), and for several reasons. This all started back in the beginning of May. I'd just found out that I was pregnant, the weather was getting warmer, Dan was gone long hours during the day so it was just me and Carl and I felt like death run over. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The nausea and exhaustion made me wonder if I was pregnant or perhaps terminally ill. Toiling outside in the heat of the afternoon sun with a two year old made me collapse on the couch at 8 o'clock in the evening (I still do this) with the ceiling fan on high and watching re-runs of <em>Little House on the Prairie</em>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I think the first episode I caught was when Charles and Caroline finally have a son but he ends up passing away several months later...an episode I've seen a million times already because, let's face it, my whole life I have watched <em>Little House</em>. Anyhoo, the episode begins with Charles noticing that Caroline hasn't been eating much lately and her telling him that she is expecting again. Instantaneously I felt better about myself. After all, if Caroline Ingalls ate like a bird in the beginning of her pregnancy, then it must be ok that I wasn't eating like I used to either!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> And so began another time period in my life that I became obsessed with the show.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Sometimes in the evenings we have all sat and watched <em>Little House</em>. Quite frankly, it's a much better quality of show to have on the t.v. for a family setting. Right now I don't want my son to hear about one shooting after another, terrorists, and <em>YES</em>, people changing their gender. I know I can't shelter my kids forever, but for right now by God I'm going to try. They can grow up in a home that shows others learning right from wrong and attending church every Sunday (which makes it into a lot of <em>Little House</em> episodes.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> On one of these evenings we caught the episode where Caroline becomes pregnant with Grace. In the beginning she's dizzy and needs to sit down. I pointed to the screen and shouted at Dan, "See! Even Caroline Ingalls needs to sit down throughout the day when she's pregnant!" Later in the show Caroline goes off on an emotional rant. I felt better again! Carl pointed to the t.v. and said "What's that?" I told him that she was pregnant and cries a lot too...just like mommy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> So I swear we don't just watch t.v. in the Shawhan household and I promise this post relates to chickens...I'm getting there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> What I also love about the Ingalls matriarch is her both her struggle to be a good Christian woman (always turning the other cheek to Mrs. Oleson) but also her egg income. (Here comes the egg part!) What would it be like to get 4 cents a dozen instead of over a dollar? Just like Caroline Ingalls, every so often I run into town with Carl in tow (usually on our way out to the library) and we drop off anywhere from 10 to 16 dozen eggs to a friend of the family. THANKFULLY the family we sell our eggs to is nothing even remotely close to that of Mrs. Oleson and her bratty daughter Nellie. Talk about the difference between night and day!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> My little egg income makes me happy; after all its better than nothing when I'm not out in the workforce and "bringing home the bacon". I like to think Caroline may have felt the same way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Some days I can't help but wonder if Caroline ever felt like she was going to lose it. Home all day with small children...doing all the domestics just to wake up and do them all over again the next day. Did she ever lock herself in the outhouse for just five minutes to save her sanity? Did she feel a slight resentment to Charles? Or the woman who worked at the post office? The school teacher because they got to "get out and have a life"? Did her head feel like it was going to explode, yet she still had to change that poopy diaper, fill a bowl full of goldfish and go turn down the burner on the stove so supper wouldn't burn? I'd like to think so...after all we are only human.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> And yet we wouldn't give up or trade our lives for any other in the world. We have good days and we have bad days. Some days are a combination of both. And when you get $20 for two weeks' worth of eggs, it feels pretty darn good appreciating the small stuff.</span></div>
The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-69325778907224918952015-06-13T07:36:00.002-07:002015-06-13T07:36:45.542-07:00R.I.P. Broody Hen!<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I really wish I had happy news to report from here on the Shawhan farm. But, sadly, it's the opposite. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> We had a broody hen who was sitting on a HUGE clutch of eggs...I mean probably like 30 or so eggs...a real over-achiever. She had picked a pretty good place too, well out of the way and pretty hidden in a neglected corner of our barn, so Dan and I just let her be. I've always wanted to catch a sitter during her broody phase and see if she'd hatch out some chicks. We were pretty excited about this because here seemed our perfect chance!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Every afternoon when Carl and went outside and I checked in on her, I kicked myself for forgetting the camera. I was going to take pictures and announce on here the excitement that was taking place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> One day I had completely forgotten about her. That night Dan told me the horrible news that he suspected her dead. Multiple eggs had been broken and the cozy nesting nook was covered in lose feathers. If I was kicking myself for forgetting the camera, I was now whooping myself for not moving her to the safety of the empty brooder! (A thought that had crossed my mind multiple times as I watched her be a sitting duck.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> So now we don't have the excitement of hatching out some homegrown chicks. This little moody broody hen died in the line of duty, being a good little self-sustaining hen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Quite frankly, I haven't been a very good chicken momma lately. I happen to be incubating my own little hatchling for the time being, and I was advised to keep a safe distance from my girls for the next 6 months...so my mind has been elsewhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> This doesn't excuse our laziness to not move broody hen to a safe place, however. I for one will be regretting that decision for a very long time.</span><br />
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The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-18471411275481603862015-05-22T11:57:00.000-07:002015-05-22T11:57:01.912-07:00Phi Alpha Cluck<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As I have mentioned before, this year has been smooth sailing as far as our chickens accepting the fact that we have gotten new chicks. In years past, there were either threats of egg laying strikes, or the strikes actually happened. This has to be the first year in Shawhan farm recorded history that the presence of a new flock is not affecting the old one!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I was really beginning to wonder what got into the chickens when one day I spotted a delinquent hen out of the coop and who was out mingling with several newbies, who had somehow escaped their own confinement. Thankfully I was able to stop myself before the urge to run up to the older hen and scold her for showing the young ones bad habits, because I was able to overhear what she was telling them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Yes, she was explaining how a chicken can escape the many fences and gates that cage her in and where the best egg hiding places around the barn can be found. But she was also explaining to them rules of some kind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <em>Rules? </em>I asked myself. I was slightly confused because most of what I overheard was how to <em>break </em>the rules. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As it turned out, these "rules" involved organized activity...thankfully not the gang/mob kind...but more like the rules a woman would follow in a society of women. Or in our case, hens. Yes, people, a sorority exists on our farm! After a lot of spying and peeping through the barn cracks and sneaking out late at night, I discovered the sorority is called Phi Alpha Cluck, and that the Shawhan farm chapter is one of twenty in the surrounding Highland County area.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> So we have a designated "house hen" who takes it upon herself to escape Cooptown everyday and prep the rushes who will be accepted into the order of laying hens next month when we intergrade the new chickens into the existing flock. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I'm tempted to speed up the process because the rush weeks have been pure H.E. Double Hockey Stick around here, especially at night. In my opinion, the severity of the hazing with Phi Alpha Cluck is a bit too dangerous, as it includes the rushes being out exposed at nighttime. The rushes have been forced to run multiple times across the road, eat potato peelings despite the numerous health risks, and the chanting is enough to drive a person nuts! I have lost hours upon hours of sleep (Dan and Carl have never seemed to notice, but I'm a light sleeper). Even the Amish down the road have been complaining.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I'm not sure how much more of this I can take!</span></div>
The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-56126149159761869102015-05-10T11:38:00.002-07:002015-05-10T11:38:55.917-07:00'Mother of The Year Award' Goes To...<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">To all of the wonderful mothers out there (human, chicken, dog, cat, etc. etc.etc....)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">From all of us here on the Shawhan Farm!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> My amazing chickens informed me the other day that they have developed a new award. It's the 'Mother of the Year Award' and my heart broke when they presented me with the poop covered envelope stuffed with feathers saying that I was this year's recipient of this prestigious honor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> In the beginning was I very humbled, but then it dawned on me that it was a joke. The girls were getting back at me in a sarcastic way. I believe I know why...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> A few weeks ago Carl and I were visiting the chicks in their temporary set-up. I wasn't 100% sure how he was going to interact with the young birds, but he quickly quelled my curiosity by running around the pen, chasing the little birds until they were dizzy and nearly catching a few. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I'm happy to know my child has no fear of our chickens, both young and old, and so I settled back in the corner of the make-shift pen and proceeded to crack up laughing while snapping pictures of my son tormenting the chicks. For a solid 15 to 20 minutes, Carl chased the young flock around and around the brooder. His excited squeals were mixed with the frightened squawks of the birds, and then I would laugh even harder. He stopped only to see if my phone camera was turned around to the selfie mode so he could see his own face on the screen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Several thoughts entered my mind during this time: 1.) These little birds would remember this and refuse to lay us any eggs in the future (one Mother of the Year nomination nod). 2.) My kid is playing in basically a chicken coop and it can't be the most sanitary environment for his little developing body (another nomination nod.) and 3.) I wonder if I could use this tactic as a babysitting opportunity (the last nomination nod).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> When I realized the passive aggressive nature of this "award" I threw the soiled envelope away and decided not to even acknowledge it with the flock. We have exchanged very few words ever since, but I'm still getting a decent amount of eggs every day, so I'm letting the whole incident slide. On a plus note, it seems like this flock of newbies is being accepted much more easily than those of the past.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I took a lot of pictures that day, but sadly they still came out fuzzy.</span></div>
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The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-75249154605866670442015-04-27T09:14:00.001-07:002015-04-27T09:14:30.400-07:00A Chronicle Exclusive Interview 'Happy 200th!'<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <em>Good Evening. I'm Jack Kelly of T</em>he<em> </em>Manhattan World<em>. Tonight, it is my pleasure to bring you my exclusive interview with the Chicken Lady.</em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> We begin this evening in a cozy, yet PETA cringe-worthy living room, filled with mounted deer heads and a bear skin rug adorning the walls. A plethora of farm toys and puzzle pieces littler the floor. I sit on the edge of a cream colored easy chair while a redheaded cherub runs around repeating "What's that?"</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The Chicken Lady eases back on the milk-stained sofa and smiles at the continuous question being asked as the toddler learns more and more about the world around him. She looks up at me with an edge to her blue stare. She is dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, her trademark black headband holding down stray wisps of hair that match her son's. </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em> </em>Chicken Lady: "So are we going to start? He's going to need his dinner soon." (She points to the now engaged child who pushes a small tractor across the floor.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Jack Kelly: (Clears throat) "Of course! Uh, it's been awhile now that your blog, <em>Chronicles of a Chicken Lady</em> has been up. In fact, this is your 200th post! How do you feel about that?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Chicken Lady: (She smiles, her lip gloss sparkling in the overhead light and rivaling Club Monaco's <em>Glaze</em> that Monica Lewinsky wore in her infamous 1999 Barbra Walter's interview.) "I'm very excited. Very proud...of myself. It's been the longest running creative writing project I've ever done. I'm surprised. I didn't know I had some of those stories in me."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Jack Kelly: "Can you refresh us on how it all began?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "After we got our first flock of chickens I would update on Facebook how they were doing. Probably the most famously noted, was when Ms. Fluffy Feathers was killed on the road. When I would see people in person they would always ask me how my chickens were doing...it's funny because people still do that and I love it! By the time fall rolled around 'blogging' was becoming pretty popular, so I thought, why not dedicate a blog to my chickens? It would give me more space to talk about my chickens, I would have a 'blog' and it would force me to actually sit down and take the time to write. It didn't take long for me to adhere to blogging twice a week."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Did you write before?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Not really...no. It had been awhile. I want to be a 'writer' but they say you should write every single day in order to get good at it. I agree with that. I would dabble in it from time to time. I wrote a lot in high school and then again after college."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Do you write every day now?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L. (Proudly) "Yes. I blog, journal or work on my "project" every day. Have been now for over a year. It can be hard though with Carl. I try to get something done when he naps, but I only get about an hour. It seems like he wakes up right when I'm getting going."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Project? Can you elaborate on that?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Well it has nothing to do with chickens. And I would be embarrassed if my grandma read it."</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">At this point in the interview I raise an eyebrow.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em> </em>C.L.: "I thought this was about my chickens?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "You don't like me much do you?" <em>I cringe and instantly regret asking that question. Her sharp eyes catch that.</em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Honestly, you annoy me. I'm sick and tired of seeing you snooping around our farm and sticking that stupid microphone in our faces when we experience any kind of tragedy. I think you've covered all the bad stuff that has happened over the years, so yeah. Ask a dumb question and don't be surprised by the answer."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> <em>I feel like she just slapped me as my jaw hits the floor.</em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Now what do you want to ask me about my chickens?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: (Clears throat for several minutes.) (Deep breaths too.) "So, uh. Yes. How many varieties of chickens have come through your gates?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: (Ticking them off one by one on her fingers.) "Bantams, Comets, Barred Rocks, Araucanas, Speckled Sussex, Silver-Laced Wyandottes, Australorps, Orpingtons, Jersey Giants Light and Buff Brahmas...I think that's about all. Oh, this year we've got Buckeyes. I'm excited to see what they turn out to be like."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Do you have a favorite breed?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Not really. They are all beautiful to me, especially the Speckled Sussex. We only have one of those left. The Comets are good egg producers."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "What do you do with all the eggs? Surely no one can eat that many eggs."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Well, Carl loves his scrambled eggs. We always have eggs in the house now, which is nice since I never have to worry if I'm lacking an egg for a recipe or something. Our family and friends take some off our hands. I used to sell the extras out of the driveway, but since Carl was born I don't feel comfortable doing that anymore. Thankfully a friend of ours sells eggs too so I just sell them to him to re-sell."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Um, speaking of Carl and how things are different...you don't blog as often anymore. You said yourself you used to blog twice a week. How come you don't stick to that discipline anymore?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "I got out of that habit when he was born, obviously. After I had Carl I was just too exhausted to write anything...by the end of some days I had nothing left to give so there was no way I could muster anything creative...I still have days like that. I think people kind of expect a certain level of entertainment now and that's OK! it's just I didn't want to put up a crappy post just for the sake of putting up a post. What I post I want it to be good, or what's the point of even doing it? Plus some days I never made it out to the barn so I was out of the loop as to what was going on. I get a lot of my ideas in that barn. It's just where they come to me. I have learned that it comes easier when it comes from the heart and it's not forced. I'm not sorry I didn't post for awhile though. It's just life. You have a baby and you have to put some things on hold for awhile."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "What made you start blogging again?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "I almost didn't do it. I almost called it quits after such a long hiatus. One of the reasons was my committing to writing everyday, thanks to Lent. I decided to do something during Lent along with giving something up. The other reason was my grandma."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Your grandma?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Yeah. Grandma told me she was storing my posts because I wasn't doing it anymore. I didn't like that." (She pauses.) "Plus there's just other things I want to pursue creatively too right now in my life."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Which I want to come back to, but first, how is the war going with the weasels and mink?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: (She shrugs.) "I think I've finally accepted we are just going to lose a few birds every winter to them. It sucks and it's sad, but I'm not sure what else to do. It just seems like it happens every winter when I guess other food is scarce. I think it's just a part of owning chickens in the country."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Are there still chickens left from Flock 1?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "There are. I'm not sure how much longer they have to be here though."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "What will happen to them?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "I don't know. I don't like to think about that. I figure if we don't address that then it might never happen."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "What are your plans for the future?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Well, I would LOVE to own the property next door, which is for sale now and I doubt we'll ever get it. It's not in the cards now to go after that. But I think that house would make for an amazing chicken coop! We could let them run in the backyard and have a separate vet room and fed room. I could get so many chickens that way. If that doesn't happen, Dan and I have discussed turning Kennel Bar into the actual coop and Cooptown into a feed/vet room. If we did that we could increase the number of chickens we own. I'm excited for that to happen!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Sounds exciting! What about the future of the blog?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "I guess as long as I get the inspiration, there will be new chronicles. I can't make any promises when we have our next kid, but I like to think I haven't written 200 blog posts for nothing. It would be really cool to have a bunch of followers...like the Pioneer Woman or something. I can see how many times a post has been viewed." (She sighs loudly.) "All I want is a book one day. Whether it's this or something else."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "You've submitted chronicle posts to magazines?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "I have. I don't think publications want entertainment. They want do-it-yourself educational junk. There's nothing wrong with that, but if I wanted to re-word someone else's findings I would be doing that kind of writing. But that's not what I want to do. I like the entertainment factor. I just need to find the right outlet."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Well, I wish you all kinds of luck in the future. I really do." <em>I really do.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Thank you. Are we finished?" (As if one cue, Carl stands up and points to the kitchen.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Is there anything else you want to say?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Just thank you. To all who read my blog and like it and comment on it. I really appreciate you."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: <em>I smile. </em>"I think it only right that I offer you room at the end of this interview to add a sample of this 'project' you refer to. As an apology to all the times I've stuck my microphone in your grill in times of loss."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">C.L.: "Um..I don't know..."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> J.K.: "Oh come on. My curiosity is piqued."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> C.L.: "Well, ok. I guess just a little. Just remember nothing may ever come of this..."</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I say my good-byes and l have mixed feelings upon leaving the family to their dinner. So I say good-night and leave you with an excerpt of another of the Chicken Lady's writings. Good night everyone. And God Bless.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></em> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">1.) Her world stopped. Her breathing stopped. The Earth literally froze on it's axis, mid-turn, stopping time completely. Music, cars, sounds from the beach and the busy parking lot all turned to silence and there was absolutely nothing else. But him. All the things she had ever heard of or read involving love at first sight had never made any sense.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Until now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">2.) Betsy could hear the guys walk up behind her and she frantically searched the beach for Wendy and Vicky. Wendy saw her first and waved. Betsy lifted her hand and smiled as she reached the stairs that led down to the sand. The wooden boards were damp. As Betsy put her blue heel on the top step, it slipped out from beneath her and she bounced painfully the entire way down the stairs on her bottom. Lotion and towels spilled from her bag; the pages of her magazines went flying in the air, their pages billowing in the breeze like starved gulls circling the dead food they had found in the sand. Worst of all, she lost her grip on her surfboard and it went sliding down beside her, thudding down the steps and banging into the stair railing before the nose rammed into her hip.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> Everyone in the sand within a twenty foot radius looked up at the commotion. One guy burst out laughing and even more people snickered. Betsy immediately felt the sting of tears. Never before had she actually wanted to die until this moment.</span></div>
<em></em><br />The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-62062063630631800092015-04-18T09:53:00.003-07:002015-04-18T09:53:31.312-07:00Quite Contrary<div align="center">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Mary, Mary, quite contrary,</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">How does your garden grow?</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">With silver bells and cockle-shells,</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And pretty maids all in a row."</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Yesterday was beyond beautiful here on the Shawhan farm! Oh! I almost forgot to let everyone know...we now live in a "gated" community! (Or at least that's what my family has started calling our place.) A few weeks ago we had our front yard fenced in so we no longer have to worry about a certain little boy (who LOVES to be outside) running out into the road. I have to admit that I would fight a certain level of anxiety when I'd take Carl outside with me before the fence was put up. All I felt like I could do was follow him around and try to get things accomplished in the two minute intervals he would give me to get something done. Now thanks to our new fence and gates that can close across the driveway, I can actually turn my back and not have to worry about the fleets of logging trucks that drive by on a daily basis. (I feel like we live on a trucking route now and it literally breaks my heart.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> So anyhoo, thanks to mass amounts of time that can now be spent outdoors, the mulching is complete (time to make sure no chickens get out!), the bushes around the house have been trimmed and my new raised vegetable bed has been cleaned of grass chunks and rocks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> This particular new addition to the Shawhan farm is one of Carl's new favorite places to play. Last year when we re-did the steer lot and fencing, we made the fence come square off the barn. This left us with a long and pretty wide strip of "lot" that was no longer part of the steer lot. Dan is going to put rock down on part of it so he can drive the feed mixer up along the fence and fill the stuffer for the steers even if the ground is soft, but we were still left with half of this barren strip and nothing to do with it. We came up with the idea of putting a raised bed on it so that a place can be specially dedicated to strawberries, asparagus and sometimes carrots.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I am super excited about it's location...and isn't that important when it comes to any kind of real-estate? Location, location, location...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Weeding this sucker is going to be snap! Since it's neighbor is the steer lot, I plan on tossing all weeds and grasses right over the fence...the steers and chickens will take care of the rest. Chickens are pretty good at consuming anything green, and the steers are like goats and will eat almost anything...and if not it will all get stomped into the ground and disappear anyway. Yesterday was a preview to how nice this is going to work out for me (I'm rubbing my hands with greed now!) since like I said, Carl and I tossed over grass chunks and rocks that were in the fill dirt, er fill manure/dirt that Dan dumped in the bed a week ago with the skid loader. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> It didn't take us long to get some visitors...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcoU_lFKitW7SBm78FIJ2MqvAuLG53ZT4o1yW0fT_PG12NC7iMHaNzrZA03UExdoIVZ-S0AuIIz5dgwPKzeWCIK3UqWumvGkgu6EUysUOYUcdwu49G32ETTkIHOL_R3FnKYfOsDUJE5g/s1600/040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcoU_lFKitW7SBm78FIJ2MqvAuLG53ZT4o1yW0fT_PG12NC7iMHaNzrZA03UExdoIVZ-S0AuIIz5dgwPKzeWCIK3UqWumvGkgu6EUysUOYUcdwu49G32ETTkIHOL_R3FnKYfOsDUJE5g/s1600/040.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDJ7D6B8RaRIsO6cQZnoS8ExX3Nkk5mXFCsIzBVAWkiY-5XBtu1ww3G1OLSZmCS8w-4on2Oii1l3MreJNUNwiZ8Te2BgMJyxynaVkKhQDKLOZ_t6HwFAYgQK3U_crVH2drQGDktpRzCA/s1600/039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As much as Carl understands the concept of putting things <em>in</em> the basket, he's also good at <em>emptying </em>the basket...whether you want him to or not!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd__X2kRiZ5Ku2iF_nuPuWdJ5huPDbzmTtArnfpd0JYlfxdE9BOiekbLHgDCGamvr2u-UIXlq5jq3PI3kb-4QbV6SELxLVhHHpvQ_tiN0CF-ceh0IW9wuJReYMG0A-wpvJJe_v8EBS9VA/s1600/028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd__X2kRiZ5Ku2iF_nuPuWdJ5huPDbzmTtArnfpd0JYlfxdE9BOiekbLHgDCGamvr2u-UIXlq5jq3PI3kb-4QbV6SELxLVhHHpvQ_tiN0CF-ceh0IW9wuJReYMG0A-wpvJJe_v8EBS9VA/s1600/028.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVWZ_fc-UL5z1snyAjkX756Jm30-kOhhVoTDajGY_6oBZK9wm5b74sZbWyRb4kfeo2HaZVLduEMLW_avQ3eFHcumZ6WsGAI9JiTSCCoZGyXP31I9wLEdMrJWMaifbJ5yeG_CNm1GRn84/s1600/030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVWZ_fc-UL5z1snyAjkX756Jm30-kOhhVoTDajGY_6oBZK9wm5b74sZbWyRb4kfeo2HaZVLduEMLW_avQ3eFHcumZ6WsGAI9JiTSCCoZGyXP31I9wLEdMrJWMaifbJ5yeG_CNm1GRn84/s1600/030.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> So I really didn't know what my next blog post was going to be about...you all know about the chicks and the increase in egg production...thankfully that annoying reporter guy hasn't been here because of a gruesome murder (or two or three). But I needed<em> something</em> to write about. This was an important post because the next one I write will my 200th!!! and I have a special idea planned for that one (I'm already patting myself on the back for my reference to the Clinton administration, and how appropriate is that considering Hillary will be running for office??) But anyway, thankfully my time outside and among all the critters come through for me once again and gave me a burst of inspiration. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> It never fails really.</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Chicken Lady, Chicken Lady,</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">How does your garden grow?</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">With garden gloves and lots of love,</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And feathered butts all in a row!"</span></em></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDJ7D6B8RaRIsO6cQZnoS8ExX3Nkk5mXFCsIzBVAWkiY-5XBtu1ww3G1OLSZmCS8w-4on2Oii1l3MreJNUNwiZ8Te2BgMJyxynaVkKhQDKLOZ_t6HwFAYgQK3U_crVH2drQGDktpRzCA/s1600/039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTDJ7D6B8RaRIsO6cQZnoS8ExX3Nkk5mXFCsIzBVAWkiY-5XBtu1ww3G1OLSZmCS8w-4on2Oii1l3MreJNUNwiZ8Te2BgMJyxynaVkKhQDKLOZ_t6HwFAYgQK3U_crVH2drQGDktpRzCA/s1600/039.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>The Real Mothergoose</em>. Checkerboard Press. Yellow Husky Book. New York. Carl's Library.</span></div>
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The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-14720693639437591122015-04-08T13:57:00.004-07:002015-04-08T13:57:50.481-07:00Updates<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The chicks have been very busy growing here on the Shawhan farm. It was only 4 short weeks ago that we brought them home (but anyone who has ever had a newborn in the house can tell you how fast time flies!) We are currently feeding them out of the second 50 pound bag of chick starter feed. Our system, be it right or wrong, is to go through 2 bags of chick starter before we began to integrate in our layer ration before putting the newbies on that feed permanently.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> This week we flung open the brooder door and set up the ramps, so now our youngins can begin to spread their wings a bit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I think this is our bravest flock yet. Usually it takes a couple of days before the bravest one dares to put her long toe out of the familiar confines of the brooder. This year, however Dan reported several chicks out and scratching about the evening of their first afternoon of partial freedom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> (You can't give a chicken an inch or they take advantage of your mulch and freshly planted flowers.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I am also happy to report that I have yet to hear any rumors circulating the farm of any laying strikes. Quite the contrary! Our lovely ladies have been very busy, producing an upwards of 18 eggs almost daily! We tied the record of 21 eggs one day. Dan says they are working hard for their job security and know that the replacements are waiting back in the wings. I personally think its the welcome arrival of spring ( and maybe a few bribes on my part from old, unused bread).</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It doesn't help when your sidekick eats it instead of the chickens...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I don't think that piece had any mold on it. If so, I now know my son has no pencillion allergies. And...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> you never know who is going to stop by and say "Hello!"</span></div>
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<br />The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-49096848890472389672015-03-25T18:39:00.001-07:002015-03-25T18:39:25.351-07:00Just Give Him the Egg!<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: large;">~Just Give Him the Egg!~</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">One late afternoon, as a family we did gather,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Down in the barn, we discussed how we'd rather.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Be working outside all the long day,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Hoeing and sowing and sweeping up hay.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">One important chore was still left to be done,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">And we knew a certain someone now considers it fun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">So into the coop he went with his daddy,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">(A dedicated farmer and his little red laddie.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I handed Dan a carton to hold all the eggs,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">While Carl climbed on the roost and sat on his legs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He "ohhed" and he "awed" as the nesting lid was lifted,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">At all of the eggs our chickens had gifted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Carl reached in with such pure childish delight,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Grasped an egg and held on with all his might.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He giggled at holding this delicate treasure,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">(A child's fascination is sometimes hard to measure.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Like a seasoned old pro, he knew just what to do,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He stuck that egg in the carton and reached down amongst the few,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Other eggs so nestled deeply in the straw,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">By George! Carl...he collected them all!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The chickens, not knowing what this little creature may be,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">They cackled and clucked and huddled close to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I told them they better get used to him here,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">"He's not very big, you have nothing to fear."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">After soothing several frazzled nerves,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I shook my head and rolled my eyes at the birds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">At least they amuse my little toddler child,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">If it weren't for them, I fear he'd be wild!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Turning around I heard a familiar vocal noise,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">(They say speech comes later with little boys.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Carl's hands were reached up high as he silently did beg,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">and I said, "For Heaven's sake, just give him an egg!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">"I don't want him to break it." Dan began,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">As he held out an egg to that little grimy hand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Like we're going to miss one?" I asked with a lift of my brow,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Although I was secretly curious how Carl would handle the fowl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">All the way up our gravel drive,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Carl squealed in delight with a light in his eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He was proud and pointing to the thing in his hands,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">And my amazement and laughter mingled with Dan's.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">High ho! The house! We made it at last,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Oh no! Carl's concentration was waning and fast!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The concrete stairs he loves to climb,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Were calling his name with a tempting chime.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">With his egg still in his dimpled clutch,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The stepping and gripping were evidently too much!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He cried out suddenly in the mist of his usual ramble,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">(It's a really good thing Carl likes his eggs scrambled!)</span></div>
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The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-38710987835245590892015-03-15T10:52:00.002-07:002015-03-15T10:52:43.735-07:00Forty Days and Forty Clucks<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"The waters swelled and increased greatly on the earth; and the ark floated on the face of the waters. The waters swelled so mightily on the earth that all the high mountains under the whole heaven were covered." <u>(The Holy Bible New Revised Standard Edition</u>, Gen. 7:18-19)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> On Friday, when the monsoon that dumped all over southern Ohio began, I slopped down to the barn with a load of work on my mind. Stalls were going to need cleaned out, bedding was going to have to be put down, water buckets filled, hay racks, eggs collected, etc. etc., etc.,. Boy was I ever glad that the frozen weather and all it's extra work was <em>FINALLY </em>gone, only to be replaced with the extra work that comes along with monsoon season.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Anyhoo, as I got closer to my destination, I heard a ruckus coming from the kennel area...none like I've ever heard before. Instead of the usual beqacking, I heard hammers driving nails into boards, hand saws pumping away and a male voice shouting out orders. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "More nails! Second shift needs more nails! Don't hold the saw that way! You wanna lose a wing?! No! Not like that! Here! I might as well build this whole thing myself!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> When I went through the barn's doorway I stopped short and my mouth fell open. I rubbed my eyes. I pinched myself. There, laboring away like a bunch of little minions, my chicken flock was constructing an ark in the middle of Kennel Bar!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "What on earth are you doing?!" I screeched.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> With my surprised interruption, all work ceased. Yellow beaks turned towards me and starred. What remained of each individual flock were all grouped together and obviously working on certain projects. Flock 1 had rolls of blue prints spread before them, Flock 2 was busy sawing away, Flock 3 was frozen in place with hammers suspended up in midair. Goliath's size was being put to good use as a big two by four was on his back and it looked like he was being used to carry boards back and forth. And up on the old feed trough used for roosting in the Kennel area was Chicken Hawk with my Bible laid open in his wings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> He blinked and looked down at the book then back up at me. "It says here there is going to be a flood. I feel this is it. The big one." His wing feather jabbed at the page.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "The flood in that book already happened." I told him. A collective "Whhhaaattt?" came from the minions, who all together looked up at Hawk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> He sputtered for a time (Hawk is not used to insubordination) before he was able to collect himself to form a retort. "But it says, 'For my part, I am going to bring a flood of waters on the earth, to destroy from under heaven all flesh in which is the breath of life.'" Hawk took a shuddering breath before continuing. " 'Everything that is on the earth shall die.' (Gen. 6:17) " He slapped the Bible closed and pointed to the corner of Kennel Bar closest to the coop. "See! It begins already!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I followed his wing and cringed. True, the kennel was beginning to flood:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqtc5KGG5VKEyyN9BWChK_a5MIn6TtiocbyUHT4NF8xohbZK7dV_KucXw9nFQgPWg4_iV0bIh7vVDLPMQEVKt1xw5dWokCsSstlHoCK7uBlDBYsS3j9tUZipwPLrxtxoYMjQ2h6BNmsk/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXqtc5KGG5VKEyyN9BWChK_a5MIn6TtiocbyUHT4NF8xohbZK7dV_KucXw9nFQgPWg4_iV0bIh7vVDLPMQEVKt1xw5dWokCsSstlHoCK7uBlDBYsS3j9tUZipwPLrxtxoYMjQ2h6BNmsk/s1600/003.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So was the barn aisle way itself, though the pictures don't do it justice:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGh4D3xIKQ1iwio06wSUof0mfxVsEmiDAx4adVuI6o_AaukbcWldWUeDmD4Jck1lDhJmLVsJq3PgntJOv6M0i5JTx2UGbyrDOrOhb6JHn3HTayBtkeJ_EcojeDQXdNuFEiLV5I8_6iiA/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGh4D3xIKQ1iwio06wSUof0mfxVsEmiDAx4adVuI6o_AaukbcWldWUeDmD4Jck1lDhJmLVsJq3PgntJOv6M0i5JTx2UGbyrDOrOhb6JHn3HTayBtkeJ_EcojeDQXdNuFEiLV5I8_6iiA/s1600/001.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The back of the barn, since the genius who built it set it at the bottom of a sloping driveway:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I glanced down at my booted feet, feeling them sink in as I stood there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Look," I said. "I can see where you might get that impression. Channel 9 says the rain will move out by tomorrow afternoon. And anyway, <em>that </em>flood has already happened. You don't need to worry about it anymore."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Hawk's face fell. Then, as if mustering up a last ditch effort for a fight he said, "How do you know it won't happen again? Maybe the next flood will be even bigger!" This exclamation made the minions gasp in unison. Goliath let out a scream like a woman and dropped his two by four.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I snickered in spite of myself. It was a funny noise coming from such a large bird. I cleared my throat. "Chicken Hawk. It's obvious you haven't read that whole story-"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "How dare you accuse me!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Look!" I shouted, then continued on in a voice I used in the classrooms I subbed in B.C.. "All you birds are old enough to have seen the rainbows we've seen around here! Maybe you should read the rest of that story."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Again, Hawk sputtered and hopped around, flustered and aggravated as all get out. My big old white biddy from Flock 1 ambled over and ripped the book from his wings. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> She took a deep breath and cleared her gullet. When she spoke her voice was loud and clear. " 'I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.' God said to Noah, 'This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth. (Gen. 9:15-17)'"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> After the reading, you couldn't hear a pin drop in that barn...well, ok we heard the rain pounding on the metal roof, but that was about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Everything will be fine." I reassured them all, but mainly to Hawk, who stood with his head down and his shoulders slumped. I felt bad that I had made a public display of proving him wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The next afternoon when the rain had stopped and the sun had come out, me, Dan and Carl ventured outside to burn off the energy of a little boy. I saw Hawk out in the steer lot basking in the glow of the sun. When our eyes met, we just nodded to one another, a silent exchange of respect and went back to our business.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><u>The Holy Bible New Revised Standard Edition.</u> Nashville: Graded Press, 1990.</span><br />
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The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-15401833798872110892015-03-09T17:49:00.001-07:002015-03-09T17:49:18.409-07:00New Beginnings<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Spring is here!!!!! Oh yeah, and so are our new chicks!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> There are new beginnings all around us. For starters, on Saturday we traveled up to Columbus to meet our new nephew, Andrew. I was amazed at how small he was! Though born at a healthy 7 pounds, I guess in my mind I was expecting to meet someone more Carl's size. (Funny how you get used to what you have...) Dan and I were really expecting some jealous behavior out of Carl when he saw us holding another baby, but I think he's still too young to care. Either that or cousin Rory's toys were more interesting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> After our long drive home, there was still enough daylight left to enjoy some time outside. We all headed down the driveway to the barn so Dan could get the brooder cleaned out before the chicks' arrival the following day. (I can't tip the brooder over by myself and plus mice live in there over the winter, and I don't deal with those!) As I was standing in the doorway to the barn, I noticed the change in the sunlight streaming in above me and hitting the bales of the straw in the loft. I noticed a change in the air. It was here. Spring. Winter was gone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I felt as if I had woken up after having a really bad stomach flu; the type where you go to sleep feeling sick then wake up the next day feeling so much better, your insides finally at peace. Or like when you know a fever has broken. That was what it was. The winter fever was gone. There was warmth behind the breeze, not cold. The heat off the sun was winning the battle!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The same feelings were with us again yesterday as we went to the feed store and brought home our 20 reinforcements! Yes, 20 new chicks can now call the Shawhan farm home! We got 10 more Golden Comets, 5 Buckeyes (not sure what those will amount to, but I love trying new breeds) and 5 Black Australorps (we had some of these in Flock 1).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> We got the chicks at a new place this year, though it is owned and operated by the feed mill that we always go to get our chicks. I have to be honest and say I was a little disappointed this year. Usually the chicks are in smaller boxes on the floor, not so high that Carl wouldn't be able to look in on his own. I had to hold him and have him peer down in the feed trough. Though he let out a few "OOHHH"s, he mainly struggled in my grasp and I had the walk him around the store while others picked out my birds. I was a little bummed I didn't get to do that myself, but oh well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Yesterday afternoon was spent settling in the chicks and wiping a few butts. I'm pretty confident there are few birds who will grow up to hate me. It's not the right foot to start off on for a good business relationship.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I'm excited to see the new birds grow and to have a little boy's help this year! I'm excited to see winter go and have the door hit it in the butt on the way out! My Easter decorations are up, laundry is drying on the line and I spotted the daffodil and tulip shoots coming up out of the ground yesterday. I have a new nephew and also a new baby cousin. After the doldrums of this past winter, I was in need of some new beginnings.</span></div>
The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-88495850100474541182015-03-01T13:40:00.002-08:002015-03-01T13:40:57.997-08:00Terms of Endearment<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Is winter over yet?! One can only think and wish and hope and pray that this last little blast of snow we had this morning will be <em><strong>IT</strong></em> until next year. It feels as if Old Man Winter just cannot release his icy grip on us this year. Thankfully, we have been relieved several times of the cold and snow with teaser days of warmer temperatures, but sometimes I think breaking it up like that makes it even worse. (Kind of like when I was running track; in some workouts we were allowed to walk in between our running for breaks. Those days were always harder than the straight running workouts.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Anyhoo, even if the thermometer outside was reading <em>ZERO</em>, I was witness to the heat rising in Kennel Bar yesterday...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As it was a Saturday morning on the Shawhan farm yesterday, I was up and at em' long before dawn taking my shift at the in-law's dairy farm. I got back home around seven a.m. and then proceeded to take care of our own critters before going inside to warmth and food. (I'm usually starving by this point!) I dump Jimmy and Charlie's grain outside, then let them out - as they are starving by this time too and like to tell me by kicking at the gates - so while they are stuffing their faces, I take them out some hay too. Next, I climb the ladder to the loft and throw some hay down for the Beefy Boys (we have 8 now), then I let the chickens out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Since I was already bundled up and everything up mu nose had already disintegrated into nothing, I take the opportunity to get the days barn work done. This mainly consists of cleaning out the stalls, banging the water buckets on the ground to get all the ice out and restock the hay racks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As I was scooping frozen fecal balls from Jimmy's stall, I was surprised when I looked over and saw that some of the chickens had voluntarily left the coop and ventured out into the cold morning air. As my eyes took in the entire kennel area, I noticed one of our roosters, Goliath, standing by the bars with a Comet hen. It was the just the two of them. They were clearly having "a moment". The hen was preening the feathers around Goliath's neck and he was just standing there enjoying himself. Goliath is a huge bird (hence his name) and the difference in the sexes this picture painted was a clear as day. Goliath stood a good two or three inches above the hen's head and his body made hers look like a drop in a bucket. As I stood there watching, the hen kept at him and he kept standing there allowing her to continue her menstruations. During this whole time, no other bird approached them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> It was a sweet scene...I felt like an intruder watching it and it went on for quite some time. Of course coming from the dairy I didn't have my camera ready to whip out and get all paparazzi on them. Their clear affection for one other during this time made me wonder if chickens have a mating time...like where the male courts the female, or maybe even vice versa. Do hens come into heat? Sure they lay eggs whether there is a rooster in the flock or not, but does that happen during their cycle? Honestly, from what I've seen over the past few years, I'd be surprised if hens with a rooster are allowed to come into heat....usually the roosters are pretty "on top" of that situation (pun indented. They also make<em> 50 Shades of Grey </em>look G-Rated, though I couldn't tell you for 100% sure since I haven't read the book.) Or is all the preening and sweet nothings in the ear just a poultry social custom? Was I so starved by this point that I was hallucinating?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Perhaps I have some research to do if a certain little boy would ever allow me the time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"> I finished the chores and left the chickens to be themselves touched by the gentle scene that warmed my heart on a cold winter's morning. </span></div>
The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-89023541422329317962015-02-18T11:28:00.005-08:002015-02-18T11:28:54.336-08:00Super Easy (and Good!) Sweet and Sour Chicken<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I have a confession to make...or at least I have to state this confession again...I'm a<em> terrible</em> chicken owner! I say this because I <em>love</em> chicken! As much I love my birds; their beauty, humor, creative juices they spark within me, their gossipy chatter, erratic behaviors, the way they drive me insane sometimes and of course, their eggs, I just can't deny how much I love to eat chicken. (Not my own! The already dead ones found frozen solid or pre-packaged in the grocery store.) If someone told me I could only eat either chicken or beef for the rest of my life and I had to choose, I would definitely pick the chicken.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I'M SORRY GIRLS!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> During my last grocery trip, I stumbled along this package among the Kroger shelves:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAejkDWEuznWsCe4aZDwm5qvWpWM2SVW-mH2mpViBGCXrjLxxCXXrqfjazjpktwuuBQn7JA6uOQeSIH8Bzwsx763ibwCoKNd0c5hBzQpu_KschIesPjAcJR6D5UUubyDYibWYxdK0iS04/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAejkDWEuznWsCe4aZDwm5qvWpWM2SVW-mH2mpViBGCXrjLxxCXXrqfjazjpktwuuBQn7JA6uOQeSIH8Bzwsx763ibwCoKNd0c5hBzQpu_KschIesPjAcJR6D5UUubyDYibWYxdK0iS04/s1600/013.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">They say never to grocery shop hungry, but yours truly didn't heed that advice. The thought of sweet and sour chicken over a bed of rice made my mouth water. Plus the fact this was going to make a super fast and super easy dinner had me sold on the product. I tossed the package in my cart and made a mental note to pick up an extra box of rice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> There are multiple reasons why I'm posting and bragging on this sauce. One of them is because the only other ingredients you need are the chicken and vegetable oil. (Plus maybe some rice, mushrooms, or any other additions that sound yummy to you.) Personally, I love a meal that doesn't require 100 different ingredients, or that calls for that rare component I'll use only a little bit of and never use again. (I'll let you in on a little secret...we here at Shawhan farm are not adventurous foodies by a long shot! Meat and potatoes please!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Anyhoo, if anyone needs a quick and easy meal idea, this is a good one to try! Another reason I really liked this was because the list of ingredients wasn't that long and I could actually pronounce all of them! Because of this, I was going to let Carl try some of it too, though I didn't have high hopes on that front...I was right too. He tried some of it but didn't eat much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> All you do is heat the oil in the skillet, add the chicken (which, ok, I cheated and bought already cut up chicken breasts!) and cook until the chicken is done.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbptU1gbgeyFCdKKgMV_PIUgAQWvndrsmej_ZySUdgMZ7MIIDsLGm5PswiHkCtEUE63iwKoys9LZgqaq7szwbH533WGIRgqgvyJWwf5NdNkYedZzukiWbDDQkFh78T1Lh-miCyYwOmrkQ/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbptU1gbgeyFCdKKgMV_PIUgAQWvndrsmej_ZySUdgMZ7MIIDsLGm5PswiHkCtEUE63iwKoys9LZgqaq7szwbH533WGIRgqgvyJWwf5NdNkYedZzukiWbDDQkFh78T1Lh-miCyYwOmrkQ/s1600/019.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">While that got going, I put in two bags of Boil-N-A Bag white rice (I'm so healthy, I know) and let those cook for the directed 10 minutes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Once the chicken is cooked through, you simply add the package of sauce and let that cook for an additional 5 minutes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And Ta-Da! A simple, <em>warm</em> meal for a snowy night! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I sorta stopped taking pictures at this point...Dan came home, Carl was underfoot and needing things (you can see his half eaten banana above hahaha!) Ahhh dinner at our house is usually a goat rodeo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> It made enough so we are able to have the leftovers tonight and I saved Carl's bowl hoping me might be more adventurous today than he was yesterday, though I'm not holding my breath.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> At any rate, I'll definably be buying this Campbell's skillet sauce again. It was Chicken Lady approved!</span></div>
The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-5227722586289581182015-02-13T08:55:00.002-08:002015-02-13T08:55:25.845-08:00Farm Show!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Yesterday Dan I got home from our annual visit to Louisville, Kentucky and the National Farm Machinery Show. It was also my very first time away from Carl all night, in like, ever! As we left the little guy in good hands (grandma's and pappy's to be exact) I was able to enjoy myself, snag a lot of freebies and people watch until my hearts content! But that still didn't mean that I didn't miss my little boy like crazy!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As this was a kids-free trip, Dan and I caught up on our Rodney Carrington listening as soon as we got into our suddenly quiet car. A few exits from Louisville, we ate a quick lunch before reaching the show. I tell you this because within the first half hour of being at the show I had stuffed my purse full of candy that every single booth offers, tried a shot of this flax seed magic potion that cures women's health issues from cancer to hot flashes and donated $1 to the Kentucky FFA so that I could get a bag of freshly popped popcorn which had been provided by - GASP! - Monsanto!</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> GMO or no, those peeps make some darn good popcorn!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As I sat in the booth with other ladies whose husbands where talking like Dan, who was in deep discussion with a sales rep about the new grain dryer and where/how they were going to fit it within their existing grain bins, scarfing this amazing popcorn, watching the amazing people walking by in their various fashion statements, it dawned on me that I was eating my emotions! The Taco Bell, candy and popcorn helped to numb my emotions of being away from my child... After this realization, I tried to focus on getting as many free reusable bags as possible and this year I believe I succeeded in bringing home more than any other year!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Other farm show highlights included in sitting in a <em>BLUE</em> tractor...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Getting my picture taken with this hottie at the GEA booth (it's a dairy thing):</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And watching the talking stalk of ragweed at the Syngenta Seeds booth. This guy creped me out a little. He reminded me of the wicked witch of the west in <em>The Wizard of Oz. </em>I think he could have auditioned for a role in <em>Wicked.</em></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This show is geared more towards farm machinery and equipment than it is about livestock, so I can't report a lot of the chicken front in this post. I searched high and low, but I really didn't see anything that had to do with chickens except for these publications that I picked up.</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The livestock convention (I believe) is held in November and I really want to try and make it this year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Carl did great on his night away and thanks to all the amazing food and our dinner at Tumbleweed, I was able to keep down my anxieties of the first night away from my baby!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Of course when we got back into the car with Carl he decided to remind us how loud he can be in small confined spaces...</span></div>
The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-43086944625776289552015-02-08T17:15:00.002-08:002015-02-09T10:11:49.150-08:00How Do You Do? Talon Hawkins To You!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> More than one time I have been outside and walked past this fence row and have spotted a hawk perched upon the post. Fully knowing that hawks are known predators to chickens, my first thought is, 'Oh cool! A hawk!'. (How traitorous am I?) My second thought is replaying all the gory details of the disemboweled chickens found on my brother-in-law and sister-in-law's property from their dealings with hawks. Maybe I really should be concerned....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Well, I was finally able to have a little chat with the hawk that comes and rests his wings on our fence post. Since it was such a warm, Spring-teasing type of day, Dan, Carl and I ventured outside after church and lunch. It was one of those days where you got a lot of stuff done, like cleaning out the chicken coop, washing the cars and cutting the bottoms off of barn doors...the types of things you do on Spring-teasing types of days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As Dan sawed and Carl played with rocks and puddles, I suddenly remembered I had to put a roast in the crock pot for dinner. Jogging up the driveway, I looked over and saw a serious looking bird -in what was that? a top hat?? - perched on the fence post, starring out in the direction of the horse pasture. I stopped and blinked, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me, but no - that was definitely a top hat! Knowing this was more important than dinner, I changed my course of direction and walked across the yard, the wind whipping my hair into my face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Hello?" I called. "Can I help you?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Oh! Yes, yes, hullo!" He responded in another shocker - a British accent!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Hi." I said, dumbfounded.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Beautiful day isn't it? I just love this kind of weather."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Me too. Er, who are you?" I asked, taking in his suit vest, tiny bow-tie and rimless glasses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Oh, my, where are my manners?" He cleared his throat, removed his top hat and gave what I'm assuming was a bow...not much room to work with when you are that small. "My name is Talon Hawkins, how do you do?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Um...I'm good. My name is Rebecca." I said, feeling really stupid. <em>Was I really speaking to a bird?? AND having trouble finding something to say?</em> I had successfully crossed the line from weird and had gone into Looser-Ville.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Shaking my head, I had to ask. "Are you hear to eat my chickens?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Talon Hawkins took a couple of jumps backwards sputtering.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> A wave of guilt washed over me. "I'm sorry!" I was quick to say. "It's just, I've seen you here before and I know for a fact that hawks love chicken."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Seeming to recover his decorum, Mr. Hawkins put a wing over his chest and cleared his throat. "I accept your apology. As a responsible chicken owner, you have every right to have the best interest in mind for your birds. I cannot lie to a lady! I was indeed debating on picking off one of your fowl for a Sunday snack."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I gasped in terror thinking of Macho, a little bantam rooster belonging to the in-laws who met a gruesome and violent death by the talons of a hawk. <em>Is this what happened to my beloved Fumm? </em>As far as I know, (knock on wood) none of our chickens have been attacked by a hawk. That is why Mr. Hawkins' presence has never really bothered me before.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Have you snacked on chickens in this area before?" I asked, wanting some kind of justice for little Macho.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "No, I swear it. I am just passing through on my way to Indiana to visit relations. I heard the squawking of your birds and my tummy growled. I am so hungry and I have traveled so far." The sun reflected off his spectacles as he looked at me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Well, it's not very nice to eat other people's chickens." I told him, much like I would scold my own child.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> He put his head down. "I know. I am terribly sorry. I just can't help but love the taste of chicken, however. I am most fond of the tender dark meat, as it melts in your mouth with that succulent flavor..."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> As Mr. Hawkins continued to describe the flavor of chicken in minute detail, my own stomach began to growl. I thought of the frozen chicken legs in the freezer destined to be fried in my skillet one of these days. I thought about the Combo #1 from Chick-fil-A yesterday, and how good that chicken sandwich is with a Cherry Coke. Then there was the Burger King chicken sandwich I had for lunch, and goodness, I've had too much fast food this weekend!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Food! My roast! If I didn't get that thing in the crock pot so it could cook for several hours, we were going to be eating fast food again tonight!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Look, I really need to be going." I said, cutting into his descriptions. "Can I get you some bread or anything? Anything besides my chickens?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "No, no, thank you anyway. I have a gluten allergy. I need to be off myself. I need to try and make headway while the weather is so nice. Sorry to have given you a scare. I'll leave your chickens alone. Good day! Good day!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> And with that, Talon Hawkins took flight and flew away. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I scratched my head on the way back to the house, asking myself if I really did just have a conversation with a hawk? And if so, was that well-spoken old chap really a brute and viscous killer of chickens? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Going inside and to my roast, I really hoped he wasn't and wished him a safe journey to his Indiana destination.</span> </div>
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<br />The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-54957828227911630932015-02-01T12:55:00.000-08:002015-02-01T12:55:45.599-08:00"Chantecler!!!!!"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDcEIh-XSGW0PgzqbT2EQslsVxqVDknLz1t-BtaD-zYd2-BbpYpgJ3_KrMuu_xkudVDhwDBQ8RMNc3yfHbPU4XFCpteDLbCW26qXlfrwVQRBMTxeBoWksQtOmD2r7vYTkZlfaiGZQwjMw/s1600/099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDcEIh-XSGW0PgzqbT2EQslsVxqVDknLz1t-BtaD-zYd2-BbpYpgJ3_KrMuu_xkudVDhwDBQ8RMNc3yfHbPU4XFCpteDLbCW26qXlfrwVQRBMTxeBoWksQtOmD2r7vYTkZlfaiGZQwjMw/s1600/099.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> For the past couple of months, Carl and I have been attending story time for kids Carl's age at our local library. Hillsboro doesn't have a whole lot of variety (not even a Chick-fil-A or a Target!) but thank the Heavens above, it does come equipped with a library! Nothing beats the smell of old binding, the lullaby of pages softly turning and the familiar comfort that engulfs your soul as you walk into a room that is floor to ceiling with books. (I would have stayed with the Beast too in<em> Beauty and the Beast</em> if he would have had that library!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Anyhoo, the downstairs of the Hillsboro library is dedicated to children with their shrieks of laughter (and anger) and the noisy symphony that accompanies the music box and half a dozen toddlers. This place has been great for Carl and I; we are meeting new people, enjoying new activities and we have a consistent accessibility to new reading materials. No more wondering when we are getting to the library and renewing books over the internet, nope, it's a pretty safe bet we'll be most every week with our book bag of new and read books. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Carl loves books! If he inherits anything from me, I hope it's the love of books. He can sit for a long time just happily flipping through the pages. Not a day goes by that we don't read several books. It didn't take long for me to become tired of reading the ones we have here at home, though I'm waiting for the day when Carl knows them by heart and tells me when I skip a page or even a word, and so I'm loving the constant interchange of new reading materials.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> After story time, I usually follow Carl throughout the stacks and grab an armful of books here and there. He has gotten to love sitting at the small table by the checkout counter that is loaded down with fun puzzles while I hand over my library card.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> This particular week, without even looking at the cover of the book in my arms, we stumbled across this tale, <em>Chanticleer and the Fox</em>, which was adopted from <em>The Canterbury Tales.</em> Although it was originally a work by Geoffrey Chaucer (all hail the King of literary genius!), as I read the words to our dear boy who can't quite grasp the lesson of the tale, it reminded me of something we would find in <em>Aesop's Fables.</em> It also reminded of the 1991 movie, <em>Rock-A-Doodle</em> and the Elvis-like main character, "Chantecler".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Do you know that "Chantecler" is not just a name dreamt up by old man with a quill pen or an Elvis impersonating bird? Nope, there really<em> IS</em> a Chantecler chicken breed. The Chantecler originates from the Quebec Province of Canada, which up until the birth of the breed, Canada did not have any chickens to say they hailed from their country. In deciding the traits of the Chantecler breed, the bird had to be able to tolerate the cold winters. The Chantecler chicken for this reason, has nearly no wattles at all and a very small comb, making it harder for the bird to get frostbite. Other characteristics of the breed include a gentle nature and it makes a good meat bird, no matter the chicken's age. (They are also known for egg production.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The name "Chantecler" means 'to sing' ("Chanter") and 'bright' ("clair"). Perhaps this is why a Chantecler became the main character to don the Elvis hairdo and rock out in a children's movie!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The story of <em>Chanticleer and the Fox </em>is a little lengthy, but good medieval children's literature that I was happy to fall upon. After all, we usually do seem to grab the books with the farm animals on the cover!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><u>The Livestock Conservancy</u>. 1 Feb. 2015 </span></span><a href="http://www.thelivestockconservancy.org/index/php/heritage/internal/chantecler"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">http://www.thelivestockconservancy.org/index/php/heritage/internal/chantecler</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">.</span></div>
<br />The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-43529723249521991762015-01-24T17:56:00.000-08:002015-01-24T19:31:01.418-08:00Star Struck<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4zKrAAUWsOmUYkJpLHu6mMAiHMufP1h_uRfgMG55Nu_GiIFpPtf6gj0UMwzB4MfdHHFQF4f-rQHKfBygxPeZ7WEXLTq4OIKBIuSH-EYoo6wGnWJlTY6JavUPLZwqjUAPUOR1-8m78d3U/s1600/082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4zKrAAUWsOmUYkJpLHu6mMAiHMufP1h_uRfgMG55Nu_GiIFpPtf6gj0UMwzB4MfdHHFQF4f-rQHKfBygxPeZ7WEXLTq4OIKBIuSH-EYoo6wGnWJlTY6JavUPLZwqjUAPUOR1-8m78d3U/s1600/082.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!<br />
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I'm not sure why I added my "clucks" to this post, because - spoiler alert! - it has <em>nothing</em> to do with chickens! Nope, sorry, not today! It does, however, have everything to do with <em>why</em> the Chicken Lady writes. (That counts for something, right?)</div>
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So I write every day. I started doing so last year during Lent and haven't missed a day since. I dedicate some days to this blog (I'm glad I've got it going again), other days I try to work on my top secret -I-don't-want-to-say-too-much-about-it-project, and the other days I call my "cheat days" where I just fill up a page in my journal. Most of that stuff is about Carl, so I'll be glad later in life that I took a few "cheat days" and recorded down the daily life with my little boy mixed in with some milestones. (Who needs a baby book?)</div>
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I really thought today would be a cheat day, but I wanted to share it with everyone - though I'm sure not many people really care - and "journal it" here.</div>
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Above is yours truly with the super-talented Karen Marie Moning. I feel in love with this woman's work in 2006. I remember walking into Boarders and seeing one of her books. Buying it on a whim, I instantly got hooked. Around this same time, I began my office job in downtown Cincinnati, where I never felt like I quite fit in. (Talk about trying to stick a square peg in a round hole!) On my lunch hour I would walk to this "park" not far from my building and sit in the sun and read. As I did so I became more and more enamored with her style and grittiness; the books fulfilling my appetite for some aspects in novels I tried so hard to find, without making me physically sick to my stomach in how flowerily and non-realistic they are. Quite honestly, I have never been disappointed in any of her works.</div>
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Besides the Chick-fil-A located in a mall that was within walking distance from my office, the other saving grace I had downtown was a bookstore, which sadly ended up closing before my time in the city was through. After finishing Moning's first book, I went to said bookstore and found even more of her books, which I ended up purchasing and reading one after another. Needless to say, I have read every single book she's put out.</div>
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Several months ago I saw where she was going to do a book signing at the <em>Barnes & Noble</em> down at Newport on the Levee. I<em> HAD</em> to go! It was so close! When else would I get the opportunity to tell her how much I love her?</div>
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So today, mom and I braved the few hundred other people who also love Karen Marie Moning and who also probably told her that they loved her!</div>
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Even though we got to <em>Barnes & Noble</em> by 10:00 A.M. to purchase our books (or Golden Tickets) in order to meet KMM and have the books signed, we were at least 300 people back in line. The reading and question and answer session didn't start until 1:00 P.M., so we shopped around and got to have lunch at Tom and Chee (I think that's right), a place that I've heard about on the news and that was on <em>Shark Tank</em>. Amazing place to eat and what a wonderful/friendly staff!</div>
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After the reading, it was another three and a half hours until the big moment finally arrived! Standing in line my heart started to pound and I felt the blotches explode up my neck (darn pale skin, but it's better than falling apart emotionally like I do whenever I see the Beach Boys!). When I walked up to her table on shaky knees, my words tumbled out and absolutely <em>NOT</em> the order in which I'd rehearsed them. It seemed like yesterday, and not early this morning, when my father-in-law told me (I'll tell you in the cleaner version) that she "uses the bathroom the same way we all do." In any case, she seemed flattered by my praise and not creeped out at all when I told her my dream in life is to be like her. After asking if I was a local, I told her kinda and she seemed to act as if she had heard of Hillsboro.</div>
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I'll be lucky if my back supports me erect tomorrow or if it will rebel against the torture I put it through today. It doesn't matter though. After listening to her talk I feel better about my own literary producing ebbs and flows and am even more fueled to pursue my dream on her advice of keep dreaming and never give up. </div>
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Because one day I really do want to be the one sitting behind the table with a scarlet red girl telling me on shaky knees that her dream is to be where I'm sitting.</div>
<br />The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-53424797814354813912015-01-20T18:25:00.000-08:002015-01-20T18:28:59.228-08:00My Water Boy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Despite all the times a certain little boy of mine makes me cry or provokes me to violently slam my cabinet doors shut, I can't put into words how much I love him. Thankfully, this winter isn't proving to be as harsh as last years and we've even been blessed with "almost" spring-like weather the past several days. This means Carl and I can venture outside, even without having to wear our ski pants! It's been much easier work on the Shawhan farm thanks to Mother Nature's generous gift - Dan was finally able to pry the barn doors free this weekend from the ice that was keeping them permanently shut!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> We've been trying to take advantage of this nice weather spell while we can. Yesterday afternoon Carl and I went up to the dairy and took in the sights (and smells) while riding the gator. Today it was back to work out in our own barn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Carl already has a great attitude when it comes to work. He is always more than eager to "help" me in whatever task it is I need to get done (even when in the long run it creates more work for yours truly.) For example, when I clean out the horse stalls he likes to point and grunt to all the fecal balls that I don't pick up with the manure fork. He has even been so kind as to pick them up and bring them to me. YES! You read that correctly. The<em> first</em> time it happened I almost died. The air sucked out of my lungs and when I was able to gasp it back in again I ran in slow motion over to him all the while crying out <strong>"NNNNOOOO!!!!"</strong> in a deep, drawn out voice. Well, that has been a couple of months ago now, and Carl is alive and well, so I guess it didn't hurt him too bad. I will be keeping a thing of soap out in the barn from now on for such instances in the future. (It's funny because other moms apologize for their kids sharing germs with Carl and I just think and laugh to myself, <em>'You have no idea what my son has touched.'</em>)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Anyhoo, other than pointing out "You missed a spot", I think Carl's favorite barn chore is changing the chicken water. He has always liked doing this, from carrying the lid of the waterer down to the spigot</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> to splashing his hands in the full container, he now knows that when I open the coop door, the water is probably coming out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Today was no different. Though he failed to bring me he lid, which is fine because I don't need it at the spigot anyway, he did pretty much put the lid on all by himself! I was a little impressed!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> This must be some gene he got from Dan because Dan's first jobs on the dairy when he was a little boy were to refill the calf water buckets and feed milk to them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Carl got the stubborn gene from me, because after I helped line the lid up on the waterer, it turned into a clash of the Irish temperament tug-of-war fight to get the waterer out of his hands so I could put it back in the coop. Carl can carry a lid; he can't carry a full container of water.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Thankfully the melt down didn't last long and I can't get mad at a kid who wants to help.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> And, might I add, that my little water boy is a whole lot cuter than that Sandler guy!</span></div>
<br />The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-64381341962915646702015-01-10T14:56:00.000-08:002015-01-10T14:56:18.612-08:00Frozen Eggs<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK, CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Yup, that's right folks. One evening this past week we discovered a frozen egg! (Poultry eggs...<em>NOT MY</em> very own personal eggs. I'm not some over the hill celebrity who needs to preserve her reserves for the day her career will be over, though sometimes that lifestyle looks appealing!) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Anyhoo, one evening Dan brought in the day's worth of eggs. I decided to make scrambled eggs for Carl's dinner that night and just reached for some of the fresh ones straight from the coop. We hadn't even put them in the refrigerator yet. The first one I broke open was just fine. The second was frozen! Or at least in the process of freezing. The 'white' was a slushy consistency and ice crystals were there. Needless to say I scooped this mess out and got another. (It even sang to me, "Let it go! Let it go!")</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Even in the bitter throes of last winter's polar vortex, I don't remember getting frozen eggs. Of course, that's not to say we didn't have a few. I suppose it's possible to have several frozen eggs when they sit out in the coop all day, especially if they were one of the very first eggs to be laid that morning (some of the biddies are 'early birds'...the pun was intended there). I guess there's no reason if they come in frozen they couldn't 'thaw out' in the refrigerator since it's not zero degrees in there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Hmm, a mystery of life, we may never know the true answer...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> On the topic of this freezing weather- we have been keeping the chickens penned in the coop lately. This kills several birds with one stone in that:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">1.) We magically get more eggs! No one can escape the kennel area and go play Easter Bunny and hide their day's work;</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2.) The chickens would just stand around the kennel all day huddled together. It's not like they go anywhere when it's this cold; and</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">3.) I have peace of mind that probably nothing is going to come in and attack them. You never know when a predator is looking for food in these conditions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Despite maybe being a bit testy they are penned in a lot, everyone seems to be handling the cold just fine!</span></div>
The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5949317849871824179.post-28932059806135215022015-01-04T08:46:00.000-08:002015-01-04T08:46:14.352-08:00False Alarm and a Mouse in the House<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">CLUCK, CLUCK CLUCK!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Happy New Year from all of us here on the Shawhan farm! Before we delve into a new year of chronicles and characters, I feel like I would be cheating everyone if<em> </em>I didn't share a story that took place the day before New Year's Eve...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The first event took place in the hours of late afternoon, say around 4:00 or 4:30 P.M. (Late enough that all the hens should have been done squirting out their eggs by then.) I was upstairs in Carl's room sorting through all his books and re-organizing them on his bookshelf, which is located in Carl's closet. I had to move the bookshelf to the closet because otherwise a certain little boy would take his books, one at a time, and toss them over the gate and down the stairs. I decided to teach him early on how one respects works of literature, no matter how small, and took the temptation away all together and so far the plan has worked. Over the holidays, Carl accumulated several more books, including some that were Dan's and grandpa's, so I was sorting through the masterpieces of the Little Golden Books, Stan and Jan Berenstain and Mother Goose, when I heard a loud ruckus coming from the barn. At first I didn't think anything of it...I mean, how many times have those girls cried wolf, just to have me fly out there and have nothing be wrong? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> I completely forgot about the commotion when the bookshelf came toppling over and all of Carl's literary works fell on top of me with a soundtrack of expletives and a fear Carl was hurt. Thankfully, the cascade missed his little legs and he was content to sit down and start flipping through pages. As I began to replace the books, I heard the chickens again. Sighing, I stood up and decided Carl was happy for the moment, hurdled the gate at the top of the stairs and ran out to the barn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> My original thought was the Mink Mob has struck again. What was I going to do about it? Stab it with the pitch fork? Shoot it? I could probably figure out how to shot the antique .22 Dan keeps in the barn for such occurrences, but it would take precious time the Mob could use to get away. Plus, by this now, I was sure we already had a s few casualties. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> When I got there I saw almost everyone milling around in the Kennel Bar area. They seemed pretty calm...not that edgy energy they get after an attack. I looked into the coop still expecting to see feathers and headless bodies against the door, but I didn't see either of those. All that was in the coop was an excited, and very VOCAL, Orpington perched on the edge of the nest box. <em>Maybe she really was just announcing her work for the day was done? All that commotion for an egg? </em>Just to be sure, I went into the coop and looked all around, even in and under the nest box. Well, no mink and no dead bodies. Same thing for the kennel area. As I was turning around, a motion and noise caught my attention. A HUGE white cat, with no tail I noticed, leapt from the hay and ran through the barn, under the horse gate and out into the pasture. It scared me half to death, and perhaps this was what had the chickens tail feathers all in a twist. Shrugging my shoulders, I returned to house concluding that the whole fiasco was just a false alarm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> So a little later that evening, after sunset and before Dan got home, I was talking to my mother-in-law on the phone and discussing New Year's Eve plans. Carl and I were in the office. He was standing and looking out the window and I was spinning around in the office chair. On one rotation, I spun around and was facing the doorway when I looked down and there was a grey mouse staring at me with wide black eyes. My first impression was that it was a cat toy...after all, would a mouse really be sitting out in the open with a noisy little boy and chatty Chicken Lady? My brain quickly put the pieces of the puzzle together...I had seen my cat Cy sitting and starring in that exact same place before...the corner of the room where Dan keeps his golf bag, and this didn't look like the mouse toys Santa had left in Cy's stocking.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Mid-sentence with my mother-in-law I exclaim, "There's a mouse in my house!" and I quickly drew up my legs, expecting the office chair to protect me from the motionless varmint.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "There's a what?" She asked, confused, however her voice was laced with a trace of humor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "A mouse! It's here in my house! It's just sitting there looking at me! How did it get in here? It's in the office!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "Oh. We have mice too. Just set a trap for it."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> "But it's looking right at me!" I was finally able to get out the chair. "Come on, Carl. Hurry, hurry, hurry!" I grabbed Carl's arm and we raced into the kitchen, my mind racing as to what to do with it. I had no clue where the cat was...and if I found him there was no guarantee he would kill the thing. He'd probably bat it around enough to get the mouse moving again and it would get away. And there was NO WAY I was going to <em>knowingly</em> have a mouse running around in my house!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> By this time I was in slight hysterics, Carl was yelling because I had raised my voice, and my mother-in-law was laughing uncontrollably. I kept repeating, "I have to go there's a mouse in my house!" But I never did hang up the phone. Finally I got into the cupboard and found a large, heavy bowl. If I could trap until Dan got home, I'd let him dispose of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> It was a tense situation; me on the phone with a toddler walking up to this mouse, who just sat there. I was guessing the thing was alive...it hadn't been there earlier in the day. I was only about 5% sure of my plan...I was dealing with a mouse after all...surely it was going to dart away when I approached it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> In the end, I came out the victor. I was able to walk up to it and place the bowl over top of it. I made sure Carl left the bowl alone until Dan got home and he picked it up with gloved hands and tossed the beast outside. I did my part and caught the thing! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The next evening, I was resting assured that all my cluckies were alive and well and that, as far as I know, we don't have a mouse in the house.</span></div>
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The Chicken Ladyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09694333695940866591noreply@blogger.com0