On to the good news. We still have 2 bigger chickies (that is what I call them). Olga and Scout. Olga, as time has passed seems to has experienced some gender confusion. Consequently, Olga has been renamed Olgo. Olgo's fate has not yet been decided. While I do not want a rooster fertilizing my breakfast, I equally do not wish to kill, pluck, eat him. And it's not that we've grown attached or anything, although a name like Original Recipe or Crispy Fried might help. I think I'm just too lazy to pluck a chicken. Anyway, we bought 4 new chicks to replace the ones that have passed (may they rest in peace--somewhere in the desert): 2 white langhorns and 2 Rhode Island Reds. Their names are Blondie, Spots, Coco and Chanel. All I can say is better luck next time. And let that be a Sunday school lesson to chickens and children everywhere.
The coop is nearly finished now. So is the run. When it is done we will post a bevy of pictures and have a virtual grand opening. You are all invited.
This post has been produced by Ben & Telia
2 comments:
That is sad. And it totally does not sound like you are attached to them at all. That chicken coup looks awesome! I love reading all your stories.
it's a dangerous thing to name critters that produce food; this is the voice of experience. Your hearts sound too tender to consider Olgo's demise and if I were a gambler, would lay odds Olgo will enjoy a comfortable life as your new alarm clock.
I'm so very happy you and your sweet family are so very happy.
Keep writing...more, more, more!!
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