There comes a day in the life of every chicken owner when they realise that the rumours they have heard circulating for years are, in fact, true.
Those whispered comments and raised eyebrows one received when regaling her friends with tales (always wildly fascinating) of severed fingers and culling roos, were not imagined. Friends and family whose eyes glazed over as they smiled indulgently in response to her most recent tale of avian heroism were trying to warn her.
Sadly, said chicken owner also failed to note the vaguely worried expression in the eyes of her husband when one quart jar of proudly sprouted alfalfa multiplied itself into three more, plus two colanders hydroponically growing various types and varieties of treats for her feathered friends: Barley, wheat grass, green lentils, brown lentils… All of this in a kitchen where real estate is at a premium, and her counter space has now shrunk to the size of a postage stamp.
Yes, my friends, the hard, cold truth came marching home to me today. At 10:42 this morning, I found myself standing in my barn, clad in a clean, new dress and mucky Wellies meticulously drilling tiny drainage holes in the bottom of a plastic washing-up bowl for growing fodder for my chickens and rabbits this winter. This is the same girl who can’t keep tomatoes alive to save her life, whose greenhouse has been reduced to a storage shed for broken frisbees and bought-but-never-used grow bags, vowing to the gods of Pinterest that she will dutifully seed and water trays twice daily throughout the long, long English winter ahead.
Not for her family, not for her friends nor for anyone human… but for her pets.
Yes, my friends. The rumours are true. I am, in fact, MAD.
I looked around the barn at my freshly erected rabbit enclosure, one I can stand up in, complete with ramp, carpet and grooming table. What my carpentry lacks in finesse it clearly makes up for in creativity! I noted the nesting boxes and new perch I built for the hens last week. My tools are stacked neatly in the corner, awaiting the next phase of OPERATION FOX-PROOF EVERYTHING. So clean. So orderly.
And then I remembered that in my OWN house (inhabited by humans), I have a closet full of ironing that hasn’t been touched, a going away party I’ve organised for Saturday (for actual humans!) that needs some more work, a kitchen floor in need of a good scrub (since our dog decided to raid the scrap bowl and ate an ENTIRE duck skeleton – ugh!), carpets in need of hoovering, beds in need of stripping and a bathroom shower screen white from limescale, a mountain of month-end finances… and a blog to retrieve from its death-throws. I could go on, but you get the point.
Yes. It is true. I am mad. Quite irretrievably, unapologetically, unabashedly mad.
And I’ve got the power tools to prove it.
- sprouts photo: The Sweet Pea Blogger
- cluttered kitchen: Your Organized Friend Blogger
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