The Christmas Letter

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The End.

Just kidding. But read here why that is acceptable...

Kathy and Eleanore put their Christmas letter together in record time this year. It took a little while for me to decipher all of the words because their penmanship is pure chicken scratch.




Dear Friends and Followers,

2011 was a busy year for us. It seems like all we did was work, work, work. Day after day it seems like we have nothing to show for it. But, as we reflect on the year as a whole we realize what blessings we are truly thankful for.

It may not be the barn of our dreams but we have food (most of the time), clean water (usually) and a roof over our heads. Every couple of months we get new bedding. You know how ladies like to redecorate. Also, we made a couple of other upgrades; the sun on demand and a new water feature!

More importantly, we have our health and we hope all of you do too.

Merry Christmas.

love,
Kathy and Eleanore

First Impressions

Though it may not seem fair, first impressions have a lot of impact. For example:

My first thought - Who would put their hen in a sweater?

My second thought - Oof, she isn't too pretty.

And then I read...

Homes for Hens

Does a coddled hen catch your eye? It is a curious sight. But it also represents a serious issue. Year-and-a-half-old hens in British battery farms—known as factory farms in the U.S.—are deemed expendable, despite having several years to live and many eggs to give. These images show how folks are opening their hearts and homes to these refugee birds.

I’ve always gravitated toward offbeat subjects and people. So when I learned about rescue hens, I could imagine a great visual story about a quirkily important cause. What’s more, unlike some animal-rights activists, the battery-hen advocates I’ve met in London and southern England are refreshingly open-minded, working with the farms to adopt hens and reform the system.

Next year European laws will ban conventional battery cages. Some of England’s 11.1 million battery hens will move to bigger digs. Many will need to be “re-homed.” I hope the humor and humaneness in these photographs raise awareness of the situation. —Ed Thompson

My Barn

I spotted this barn back in September when Aaron and I were in Augusta for the half IronMan. I wrote down the contact information on a business card and told myself that if I still thought about it and pined for it for a few months, then I could get it.

Of course, this photo doesn't do it justice. You can come come on over to the house and see it in person. (Just call first so I can pretend that my house is always that clean when you get there.)

I'm not real sure what the draw was for me. I was walking through a shop called Gallery on the Row while the athletes were out doing something athletic. I first came across a print of a dog on a people bed, comfortably snoozing in messed up sheets. It looked enough like spoiled Charlie on our bed to give to Aaron as an "I'm proud of you for accomplishing this incredible race and staying dedicated to all of the training associated with it - even though I sometimes complain about it" gift.

Anyway, I was headed to the counter to pay after a bit of perusing and it just got me. Something in me stirred. I'm pretty sure I let out a quiet "Oooh".  Everything about it, the matting, the frame. It was just so appealing. Even the price wasn't bad. But, alas, I am cheap and practical and made a lot of excuses not to buy it right then and there.

About a week ago I was thinking about it and decided to see if I could find that business card. I did. And quickly - which surprised me. I sent an e-mail to the gallery and to the artist (Sandra Whittaker) to tell them that I was interested in this framed piece, or a print if this one wasn't available. Sandra got back to me and let me know that it is an original painting and if I was interested she would put a SOLD sign on it so no one else could buy it. Sandra and I exchanged the necessary information and on Tuesday after work, as soon as I could get the bubble wrap and cardboard arranged haphazardly on the floor, hung up my Red Barn in Winter.

That "New" Math

I just realized that in my happy birthday post to my dad, I said that he was going to be 2x my age and I was going to his 1/2 his age.

I was incorrect.

I am not 30 this year.
I am 29. (as of the 12th)

Oops.

Hey Family - Did any of you notice?

It's Electric!

When I got home from work yesterday evening I started preparing for angle bracket installation. I grabbed some screws, a power screw driver, the angle bracket, the 3 way power splitter, and the new water fountain; then headed up the coop on foot.

Kathy and Eleanore had already put themselves to  bed in the nesting box. They were so peaceful before I so rudely turned on the lamp.

The first screw went in easily. The second screw, not so much. I am really glad no one was there to pass judgement on my creative use of the screwdriver. After the bottom screw was finally seated, I figured the hard part was behind me. Now all I had to was plug it in.

Before I left the house I toyed with the idea of wearing Aaron's headlamp/Charlie's headlight - but decided against it due to the amount of fur. I would be fine though,  the sun had not set all the way yet. And, I had the lamp anyway. Worst case, I would walk back to the lit house in the semi-dark.

What I failed to remember was that in order to plug the splitter into the timer into the really long extension cord which in turn I would plug the fountain into, I would have to disconnect power to the lamp.

I am standing in the doorway with my feet on the ground.

The chickens are over near the feeder clucking and pecking.

I unplug the lamp.

Dark.

The clucking gets louder.

The splitter is in my hand, but backwards and I can't find the holes.

I hear a dog. Or maybe a coyote. Not close, but close enough.

I fumble for the prongs on the back of the timer and the extension cord receptacle.

Light.

I re-organize the parts in my hands and study the spacing.

I unplug the extension cord.

Dark.

The chickens are noisy. I still hear that animal/those animals.

I wonder where the chickens are now. Are they heading for the door?

More fumbling.

I get the timer plugged into the splitter and the splitter into the extension cord.

Light.

The timer is in the middle spot.

#&%@ !

Dark.

More fumbling as I move it over a spot.

Light.

I plug in the fountain.

At this point I am relieved as I have light, two chickens, and the technology to keep water from freezing.

I have one little snafu (I just looked this up to see how to spell it - had no idea it was an acronym - I'll just keep going as if I were ignorant to that fact) though. I have the extension cord coming in from the left side of the door - the hinged side. And the only suitable place for the fountain was on the back wall (right side of the door). I will have to do some cable management before the fountain is electrified so that Kathy and Eleanore are not tempted to perch on a power line between the nesting box and water.

Fried Chicken?

Big $pender

I haven't made it to Home Depot yet, but while picking up the "groceries" for my gals I came across a heated water fountain. It is a little bit large - 3 gallons! - so I hope the bracket can handle it. 

Oh and about a week ago, I bought a barn. It arrived yesterday.

Pictures soon!


(Ew gross:Maybe not Fruit Flies)

Hanging it up

In an effort to maintain to cleanliness of the drinking water in the coop, I have finally purchased an angle bracket. It is my hope that this angle bracket, once installed, will suspend the full water fountain with ease.

Here is a picture of the feeder for reference. It looks pretty similar.

You might be asking yourself why I don't just hang the water up on the perch like I did the food. The answer - I don't always step up into the coop to feed and water the chickens. I just lean in from my door. (i.e. I am lazy.)  Also, when the temperature gets below freezing I have to change the water more frequently. It is difficult, when you have a beak, to drink ice.

This afternoon I will be doing some shopping for Kathy and Eleanore. First stop will be to the grocery store (Tractor Supply), and then onto Home Depot for a new bedroom suite (fresh hay).

Shoo fly, don't bother me!

Time flies like an arrow.

Fruit flies like a banana.

Aaron and I have engaged ourselves in a new activity when we get home from work. Fly swatting.

We have had the exterminators come "fix" the problem a couple of weeks ago. Since then we have taken the matter into our own hands. Each night we decrease the population by at least 90% and each day come home to a new swarm.

"I feel like I need to go to church. I have done a lot of killing lately."

"You'd think one of the survivors would go spread the word that their friends are dying."

We are pretty sure they are coming in through the sink drain. I'm not sure how they get into the pipes that lead to the sink drain, but I would like to figure it out.

Hey, Walgreens... I do too!

And at $3.99 each I could make a killing!

Just two things.

1.  53 eggs for November.

2.  How is it December already?

Party Fowl

So, maybe there really wasn't a party. It was a 5k/10k - The Hot to Trot on Thanksgiving day. Scratch that. Thanksgiving MORNING. Eric, Aaron and I showed up to volunteer for race set up at 5 a.m. donning these festive shirts. (Inspired by a pin on Pinterest)

Thanksgiving Baby - sometimes.

Today is my dad's birthday. It is one of those milestone birthdays - easily divided by 10. This year, his age will be twice my age. And, go figure, my age will be (in a couple of weeks) exactly half of his age.

One of our favorite activities as father and daughter is folding tarps. No, really, it is. Never a dull time.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Palindrome

Today's date, if written in the MM-DD-YY format, is a palindrome.

You know... one of those things, a word usually, that is the same forward as it is backward.

mom
dad
wow
noon
kayak
level
racecar
a man a plan a canal panama

In all honesty, it kind of bothers me that palindrome isn't what it says it is.

Safety First

Since we have fallen back an hour and continued to move further away from the sun, we have started walking/running in the dark.

For myself, I wear a seizure-inducing-flashing red LED light. Charlie gets a head light. Aaron's grilling headlamp works perfectly as a collar. I have thought about applying for a patent for the doggie head light. Who wouldn't buy a head lamp with dog friendly designs and pay triple to keep their furry friend safe?

Same, but different

Pardon the Interruption

This morning I took some food and water up to the coop.  The light was on and the ladies were stirring a little bit. Kathy walked over to the food dispenser and began eating breakfast. Eleanore was in the nesting box. She acted a little broody and made a noise that sounded somewhere between a purr and a chirp. I didn't attempt to collect any eggs.

I don't think I have ever realized how much area a hen can cover. When they are up walking around, or even just hanging out on the roost, I'd estimate they are about the size of a football. Not this morning. Eleanore's head looked so tiny compared to the spread out geometry of the rest of her feathery mass. I guess you have to do what you have to do to keep your eggs safe.

And, just so you know, I can't stand the show Pardon the Interruption.

Light (Hen) House

An early morning at the coop.

Cartons

When life gives you lemons, I've heard, you should make lemonade. I've also heard that without some water and sweetener, that is going to be some nasty lemonade.

When coworkers and relatives give you egg cartons, what do you make then? Cartonade? Yum. A high fiber, recyclable treat for all to enjoy.

I have this sneaking suspicion that these carton gifters might want something in return.

I wonder if this method would work for other goods/services.
Snazzy outfit? - here is a shopping bag and a shoe box.
Tasty lunch?  - here are my reusable grocery bags.
You bake? - here is a muffin tin, pie plate, cookie sheet, and cheesecake pan - No hurry!

I have had a couple of offers to pay for eggs or donate toward the next bag of feed. Someone offered to buy more chickens for me. I am not sure how serious they were.

Kathy, Eleanore and I are more than happy to oblige. Of course, the more people we have on our "list", the longer the wait. Unless, the flock should grow...

Squoze

Squoze.

I have used this word at least twice. It is not officially a word, as it is actually supposed to be "squeezed". Each time I have said "squoze" the conversation has fallen apart into laughter. Not all together a bad thing to fall apart into, but none the less, squoze is not a word.

I'm not sure where it came from, if I have heard it somewhere before, or if some language wires are crossed up in my gray matter. It just came out. "I squoze the other molds to make sure they were cured."  Natural as can be.

In the case of orange juice, I am 100% sure that I would never ask for fresh squoze, but fresh squeezed.

I tried to think of other words that would follow the same pattern that I, apparently, have adopted for squeeze.

Freeze is as close as I can get.

The water will freeze.
The water is freezing.
The water froze.
The water has frozen.    

The problem here is that I would never say squozen, or squozed for that matter. For the record I know that nothing has ever frozed.

Oh, well...

Let there be Light

The deed is done. I skipped my run tonight to take care of some things on the home front.

For the next few months Kathy and Eleanore will be waking up before the sun.

This is what the ladies were up to while I was setting up the lamp and timer.

Right after I took this picture, Kathy (L) reached over with her beak and Peck! right on Eleanore's neck. I guess she was feeling a little territorial over the bare spot.



This is Eleanore. I set the water basin on top of the bricks to avoid having so much hay floating in the water. There are usually a bunch of tasty creepy crawlies hiding out under the basin that scatter when I take it away to re-fill it.



Eleanore again. Upclose and personal in the nesting box. I think she was ready for bed.