I can’t tell you how many times in a given month I sing verses of the following song to myself, only with different words. If you would like to step for a moment into the brain of me, just listen to this song, then start mentally creating your own lyrics the next time you’re in the shower, mowing the lawn, baking bread, clipping your finger nails… You get the idea. And you’re welcome.
The verse I was singing in my head about an hour ago: “My chicks are bigger than your chicks, they’ve got more scratch than a dance club DJ, sing it.” I give you Mclusky, “To Hell with Good Intentions.”
Did I only post today in order to share one of my favorite bands with you? No, I didn’t. I actually wanted to mark this day for future reference as THE DAY WE REMOVED THE BROODER FROM THE GARAGE. That’s right – the chicks, who will be seven weeks old tomorrow, are now tenting it in the backyard. Given the projected warmer temperatures this coming week, the chickens have been officially moved to the coop, and I dumped the extremely poopy pine shavings into the composter. No more chicken-stank garage!
Other things of note:
- The chicks love slightly overripe clementines, and the beginning stages of waddles are showing up at the lower edges of their mouths.
- They seem to be digging life al fresco.
- We built a fence today for the season so the chickens can peruse the yard (under our supervision at this point).
- The outdoor plants are doing marvelously.
- Bean does not like feeling left out. Single tear.
- And completely unrelated to the rest of this post, here is a glowing drink I enjoyed at Epcot Center Friday night. Glowing drinks at Disney World = the epitome of magic, I think. I left for three days, and I swear the chickens turned into giants.