So, remember our baby chicks? They are all growns up, huge, and producing a shocking number of eggs* (plans for dispatch: quiche, custard, pound cake, and give'emaway). Addie loves to visit with them and they seem to like her as well -- they gather 'round her making curious noises, and occasionally gently peck at her hands (maybe they think she is a very large grub, though).
The FYD is doing quite well with the gentleman farmer thing. He checks on the ladies in the morning before work, and tucks them in at night. He reads up on their care and feeding. Gives them hot water on cold days and cold water on hot days and the like. We are prepared to vaseline their little combs if it gets really frosty.
His commitment to the chicken ladies was very well demonstrated a few mornings ago. We were having family-bed lolling time when we heard a big commotion out at the coop. Sometimes the ladies just make a lot of noise to celebrate a new egg, but this was different. Louder, more frantic. The FYD leapt out of bed and saw our neighborhood fox bounding up and down in front of the coop door. Snow had collapsed the roof of the run so a couple of the chickens had flown their fat butts up onto the top rail. Panic city.
Have I mentioned that like most men, the FYD is a nude sleeper? (p.s. what is up with men and nude sleeping?) Indeed. And it was a cold, cold morning in wintry Maine. But he, undaunted, threw on a pair of boxers and his sneakers and ran outside to rescue the flock from the hungry fox.
And so he did. The Fox ran into the woods, defeated, and victorious Man gathered up the panicky poultry and put them back in their coop with an extra big breakfast. One of the chickens hid herself so well that we were convinced she got et -- until she came clucking around the coop at lunchtime. And none of the ladies laid an egg until their heart rates came back down again the next day.
But, as they say: crisis averted. The only real problem was that the camera battery was dead so I couldn't preserve the sight of the Man rushing to the chickens' aid in his near-nakies. Alas.
*Unfortunately coinciding with the discovery of my very high cholesterol. Damn you tasty bacon!!