Oz Whiston writing as Oz Drummond (birdhousefrog) wrote,
Oz Whiston writing as Oz Drummond

Prisoner Release Day

I had these clever thoughts this morning, lots of 'em. Must have been the caffeine. And here I am sitting down to post and all of them flew the coop. Nada. Blank page.

Today is finally the day that I am not driving 30 miles to my gym. What's that got to do with anything? Well, that means it is safe to fix the temporary run and release the prisoners. At 20 degrees. Lots of frost on the car and the ground this morning. I held up letting the girls out until the sun had come far enough up that the frost was beginning to sparkle as it melted. It must be all of 30 by now.

I warmed up some water and took it down to make a temporary water dish. I fixed the fence, which has new holes in it. Note to self: in colder weather it is not wise to procrastinate fence fixing. The post and bricks become frozen to the ground in their knocked over state. But a little warm water took care of that.

There were seven eggs already. I put them in the pocket of my down vest. And then I took them back out and put them in one of the nesting boxes they don't use. On the one hand, I wanted to keep dirt off the eggs. It's cool enough to leave them for E to collect after school, but that means the hens sort of brood on them and get their muddy, poopy, feet all over them. On the other hand, I broke an egg yesterday inside the pocket of my very expensive silk coat. Sticking your fingers in your pocket and feeling wet egg brings on a feeling that is difficult to describe. Especially when your pockets are full of eggs. Which is how one broke. One hen's shells have become thin and they easily break against the other eggs. And now that they lay less than a dozen a day, each egg is more precious. So it seemed wiser to put the eggs aside.

It's actually a nice day in spite of the cold. I was well-bundled for once and the sun feels great. Wish I could go for a walk, but I'm still grounded from the trail. The thigh is not worse, but is not appreciably better than a couple days ago. I suspect it's some sort of pinched nerve.

The girls ignored their feed dishes and hovered while I fixed the run. I would say they looked hopeful. Meanwhile, from the coop itself, cries of alarm. Or so I surmise. These were sounds not often heard and as I had just swiped all their eggs and moved them, it would be quite within character for the girls to tell the universe about the theft.

Frog Out
Tags: farm

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