Daddy and A+ have been working on the alphabet. She has "i" down and now we're working on "a".
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Back by request: Baby A+
We had a long-distance request for photos and a video of Baby A+, so for all her adoring fans out there, here you are.
Daddy and A+ have been working on the alphabet. She has "i" down and now we're working on "a".
Daddy and A+ have been working on the alphabet. She has "i" down and now we're working on "a".
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Chickens have feelings, too
So my lack of blogging can be tied to today's topic: taking the status quo for granted.
Last week, I started a post but then deleted it because it was too inane for even my low standards. Within that lame would-be post was a lament about being sick of eggs because our hens lay up to a dozen-and-a-half a week and, well, that's a lot off eggs to consume. I was also going to write that it's annoying to have to go out each night and close up the coop so they don't get eaten by a cat, skunk or a carnivorous squirrel (are squirrels carnivores?).
So. Basically, my hens are healthy and well. They lay a lot of eggs. And that's about the best one can hope for. So, clearly, you can see why I would be whining, right?
Then came a reminder to be grateful and not take things for granted.
Reminder #1- Over the weekend, Hubby commented that Sydney seemed to have a pink lump on her abdomen. Uh-oh. I immediately thought that she might be egg-bound, meaning, she might have an egg stuck in her oviduct. That can cause infection or death unless you can get the egg out. I did some research before heading out to the coop and learned that I would either have to give Sydney a steam bath (basically, hold her over hot, steamy water to help the egg along...either that, or hope that she just gives up, jumps in the boiling pot and makes herself into some delicious chicken soup) or else lube up a finger with Vaseline and stick it where human fingers were never intended to go. Armed with that knowledge, I headed out to the coop to size up the situation. I was now feeling nervous that I might have a sickly chicken and realized that I'd been taking them and their health for granted. They have been pretty self-sufficient little beasts, and really only require food, water, and us closing up the door at night. That's not much, especially in return for eggs. Anyway, I went out there and, of course, couldn't catch Sydney without crawling (literally) into the run with them. I cornered her, grabbed her big chicken feet, and flipped her over. I didn't see anything so I poked at her tummy a bit while she expressed her great displeasure at the unprovoked molestation. Nothing. Whew! I was really relieved. I checked her the next day just in case but, again, didn't see anything. Apparently the egg made its way out sans sauna or lube job. Hoorah! After that, I won't grouse about having to close up the coop at night and I've been thanking the chickens and saying, "Good job, girls!" each time I get an egg from the nest. It's nutty and kinda lame, but a good habit to get into. Be grateful. Express gratitude. Even if it's to a chicken.
Last week, I started a post but then deleted it because it was too inane for even my low standards. Within that lame would-be post was a lament about being sick of eggs because our hens lay up to a dozen-and-a-half a week and, well, that's a lot off eggs to consume. I was also going to write that it's annoying to have to go out each night and close up the coop so they don't get eaten by a cat, skunk or a carnivorous squirrel (are squirrels carnivores?).
So. Basically, my hens are healthy and well. They lay a lot of eggs. And that's about the best one can hope for. So, clearly, you can see why I would be whining, right?
Then came a reminder to be grateful and not take things for granted.
Reminder #1- Over the weekend, Hubby commented that Sydney seemed to have a pink lump on her abdomen. Uh-oh. I immediately thought that she might be egg-bound, meaning, she might have an egg stuck in her oviduct. That can cause infection or death unless you can get the egg out. I did some research before heading out to the coop and learned that I would either have to give Sydney a steam bath (basically, hold her over hot, steamy water to help the egg along...either that, or hope that she just gives up, jumps in the boiling pot and makes herself into some delicious chicken soup) or else lube up a finger with Vaseline and stick it where human fingers were never intended to go. Armed with that knowledge, I headed out to the coop to size up the situation. I was now feeling nervous that I might have a sickly chicken and realized that I'd been taking them and their health for granted. They have been pretty self-sufficient little beasts, and really only require food, water, and us closing up the door at night. That's not much, especially in return for eggs. Anyway, I went out there and, of course, couldn't catch Sydney without crawling (literally) into the run with them. I cornered her, grabbed her big chicken feet, and flipped her over. I didn't see anything so I poked at her tummy a bit while she expressed her great displeasure at the unprovoked molestation. Nothing. Whew! I was really relieved. I checked her the next day just in case but, again, didn't see anything. Apparently the egg made its way out sans sauna or lube job. Hoorah! After that, I won't grouse about having to close up the coop at night and I've been thanking the chickens and saying, "Good job, girls!" each time I get an egg from the nest. It's nutty and kinda lame, but a good habit to get into. Be grateful. Express gratitude. Even if it's to a chicken.
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