vituperation

How about some nice pictures from a lazy Sunday at Crooked Acres?

Mother and children.

Ditto.

George has grown into quite the lady.

A Rhode Island Red checks to see if I have scratch.

The rooster Michele, son of McLovin and a Black Jersey Giant.

Don King gives me the stinkeye.

As does her rock star sister.

Ameraucana, like Frick and Flappy were.

A buff rooster, son of McLovin and a Buff Orpington. We plan to keep him
for baby-making. Michele, too.

Speaking of Michele, he’s pretty handsome, no?

A female cross between McLovin and a Barred Rock. These chickens are called sex links,
because you can easily tell the boys from the girls when they hatch.

A handful of scratch makes group shots easy.

THE FOOD MAN IS COMING! THE FOOD MAN IS COMING!

They love the stinky green mudhole.

I kicked a fire ant hill in the pig yard, because I am 12.

We went back to Dog Days today for more cheap watermelons and
either chicks or turkeys. We ended up with chicks (turkeys coming in the spring,
most likely) this trip, and four watermelons.

One of the chicks is a silkie, which should look something like this when
grown, I think.

Seven of the chicks are Rhode Island Reds, which have been far and away the
most docile chickens we’ve owned (except Frick). They’re also nice and big, and should
make for some good eating. The one other chick we got was an Ameraucana.

Yep. No time to buy chicks like 5 days before you’re expecting 20 more to hatch. What can I say? We like chickens.

There isn’t a song that makes me happier than this one, I think.