Posts Tagged With: Chicken

“Did You Know You Already Have One of These?”

Sniff, snort, prance, pull, flip out.

I endured this dance five times yesterday morning. Five Times. I understand I’m crazy, but the things that scare ponies are eyeroll worthy.

I knew the husband’s generosity at allowing Lucy the Chicken to live indoors in our bathtub would wear off. So what if she had 3 broken bones and the Vet said she had a slim-to-none chance of making it? That was, like, months ago. Ancient History. These are the times that try men’s souls–or rather, now is the time that men tire of a chicken-poo scented bathroom.

Therefore, I considered my options.

DSCF3330Could I push Lucy out in the world cold-chicken? Naw. Instead, I dragged my friend Sherin to the local Family Farm and Home, enticing her with visions of flannel-lined jeans. Together we scoured the aisles for something–anything–that I could use for Lucy.

“Do you have a chicken house suitable for a little lame bantam?” I asked my friend Nellie. “Maybe a house and chicken yard attached?”

“Sure, got one right here.” Quick as a monkey, she scurried up the crossbeams and onto the tippy top of the chicken aisle. As I mentally quaked for her safety, she yelled for another associate to help her yank the monstrosity off the highest shelf. Not only did they have to dissassemble it, they still couldn’t fit most of it into my car.

“Get more horsepower,” my friend Art grunted.

“Talk to my husband,” I said. “I’ve been trying for years. At least I got a horse farm.”

“Ok, well, I’ll deliver it to you myself. I’ll be drivin’ a red truck. Don’t shoot me when I come over.”

I promised him I wouldn’t, and he graciously offered to bring it himself.

Once Art arrived, he unloaded the Chicken McMansion.

DSCF3333“Did you know you already have one of these?” He asked, pointing to Lucy’s prior dwelling.

I nodded. He shook his head, commencing construction.

Quick as a duck landing on a pond, Art put the Chicken Mc Mansion on the market for a new owner. Once I explained that Lucy currently lived in the bathtub up at my house, the poor man raised his eyebrows, shook his head yet again, and left.

(I think he wanted to run from the crazy animal lady before the insanity rubbed off.)

Lucy instantly took to her new digs, laying an egg within an hour of entering her new home. She’s completely at ease in the Chicken McMansion and attached yard.

If only the horses could relax in the same way. Every time they walk past, it’s “new.” Sniff, snort, prance, pull, flip out. It never gets old. They have to pass the McMansion to go into the RAMM Fence pasture, and every time it’s an adventure.

However, if the horses relaxed the same way Lucy did, I’d make millions. Who wouldn’t love to know a horse who lays eggs?

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April Fools

Lucy’s coppery feathers caressed the egg. She settled herself further, spreading her wings and wiggling her rump.

Confused, I examined her from each angle.

The creamy egg, nestled safely under her tummy, seemed to have green spots. Green. Spots! I lifted Lucy from her nest and realized someone truly played a joke on me. The egg, a plastic run-of-the-mill Easter Egg, contained a seam all the way around the edge.

I laughed until my sides hurt.

The joke didn’t end there, however.

Lucy, the proud momma, stopped laying eggs. She insisted that this egg would hatch, and that she needed no other until her precious baby appeared.

Lucy hasn’t laid an egg since.

April Fools, Lucy.

Afternote: Lucy started re-laying eggs today–April 7th. The joke was played by Zeus’ owner’s husband. I think it’s hilarious–not only did he play a joke on me, he played a joke on my chicken, too!DSCF3330

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An Injury and a Revelation

My boots squelched and squeaked as I slopped through the mud. I lifted my feet with care, attempting to stay on the highest ground. I stomped the excess mud off my boots and entered the tack room. The tissue box sat on top of the grain trunk, so I lifted it to put it back.

Inside lay a sky-blue egg.

My mind flashed back to the Vet saying, “If you haven’t had eggs from your chicken, it’s not a pullet.” My Father-In-Law saying “That ain’t no chicken. That’s a rooster.” The girls at camp stating, “Her vent hole is clean, and she’s definitely a girl.”

Lucas lays eggs–we’ve just never found one before now.

I mentally pushed this new information aside. The horses nickered and whinnied from all around and inside the barn, shaking me from my reverie. I added hot water to each grain bucket, creating bran mashes.

I gave Misty and Zeus hay, acknowledging their nickers and hugging them as I entered their stalls. I saved Melody, my horse, for last. I hefted an armload of hay, prepared to throw it in her hay net.

I dropped the hay.

Tears coated the right side of Melody’s face. Her swollen eyelid remained shut. Red membrane ballooned from under the lashes, and she backed away from me as if in fear.

I felt moisture gathering in my own eyes for my wonderful, sweet horse’s pain.

Melody’s been through this before. She scratched her cornea in 2011, but needed a Vet to diagnose it and provide medication.

I’d never met Dr. Tavernier before, but I called her when Melody scratched her eye that first time. Our first meeting began a professional union, one I’m proud to be part of.

Luckily, I saved the medication from that first meeting.  I applied the  ointment, and within a few minutes the swelling diminished. She opened her eye, and I saw the exact place where the top layer of her cornea scraped off.

I strode into the tack room to return the ointment, and once again spotted Lucas–no; Lucy’s, egg. I lifted the precious egg in one hand and the vitally important ointment in the other.

I sighed and smiled, shaking my head.

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The Heat is On

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Please remember to water your animals.

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Pin-Ups and Ponies

Hair. Makeup. Costumes.

Zoom. Flash. Pop.

Lights. Camera. Action!

Yesterday, thanks to Autumn Luciano and Stephenie Stowbridge, seven other women and I became horse pin-up girls. Autumn shoots photos and labels them as “Decadence Dolls.” We’re having another photo shoot in July.

The photo with the rearing horse is, indeed, mine.  I didn’t recognize myself at first–in a good way. I look like Lucille Ball–one of my favorite women. Lucas was Lucy before we learned he was a rooster, and he used to have a best friend named Ethel (before she passed away.) This photo is amazing. Once we have others, I will post them, too. Thank you, Autumn Luciano, for showing off these delightful photos. (Just wait until you see the one with me standing on my horse.)

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