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The eggs are plentiful these days as the chickens are just about at maximum production. We average about 5 per day but many days now include a full count of 7.

The chickens (who’s names are Bluebell, Penny, Loafer, Penelope, Biscuit, Jemimah, and Asshole (you will know why in a bit)) are quite amazing to watch. They scurry about the yard when we let them “free-range” and often find a patch of dirt to bathe in (yep… a dirt bath… I didn’t say they were smart).

The hard part is returning them to the safety of their coop when we want to go indoors.

Back in August when we got them, their first venture to the range of freeness ended up with a very angry me. We simply could not get them to go back in their coop. It was over 90 degrees outside and I became sweaty and irritated. One chicken in particular proved extremely hard to capture.It would hide under sticky pine branches or reverse direction just as I thought I had it caught. I fell hard a few times and once right into chicken poop. This chicken is now named Asshole.

Once they were all secured, I stood huffing and puffing, covered in sweat, pine sap, and crap.

Karie looked at me, smiling, and said “Now wasn’t that fun?!”

I stomped off with a big “FU” and slammed the door to the house.

Karma, it turns out, is a beautiful thing.

Yesterday, after many days of rain, we let the “girls” play in the fenced garden area. They had a blast sloshing around in the slop, finding worms to devour. When it was time to get them to go in, Karie set about gathering them all. She was bragging how quickly she grabbed most…. all that was left was….yep…you guessed it… Asshole.

Well, Asshole put up a fight. Karie did finally catch her but not before slipping and falling in the mud.

As she sat there with Asshole in hand, ready to strangle the bird, I looked at her, smiling, and said “Now wasn’t that fun ?!”

(Honestly, I was about to also say “Now stop laying in the mud with your Asshole in your hands.” but I thought better of it.)

Thoroughly enjoying life,
Brian the Clean


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