We are adjusting to life well here. Most of the boxes in the house are unpacked, although there remains a small mountain in our garage of unpacked boxes from storage that have yet to be pilfered through. The kids' rooms are organized--not painted or decorated or cutesy, but they're organized and arranged, with toys in their boxes and sheets on their beds and clothes in their dressers. The kitchen now houses our appliances and silverware and cookie sheets and such, with a place for everything and everything in its place. And just when I took a sigh of relief, a blessed feeling of SEMI-COMPLETION, my husband decides we need to shake things up a bit.
After all, we are country folk now, so chickens are the natural next step, right? Our front lawn just wouldn't be complete without a few hens pecking their way around our grass, consuming bugs, scratching dirt ... getting eaten by predators ... you know. Chicken stuff.
We had discussed the option of purchasing some birds of the poultry persuasion when we first put an offer on this house. Of course, the "plan" was to purchase them sometime later, as in, say, next year. However, my husband got it in his mind that this year was just as good as next year and why wait? This is why we moved here, right? To do country-ish things?
So, we loaded up the kids (and my Dad, bless his heart, who happened to be visiting that day) and my husband took us to a remote town down a remote road to a remote farm. And there we picked out our chickens: Seven Ameraucanas and six Cochins. Did you see that? Did you see how I typed those breeds as if I know what I'm talking about? Please also see this:
This is me typing this post with a website found via Google on how one spells "Ameraucana". I thought it was just "Americana", like folk and rock and roll. Apparently not. It's fancier. Anyway. The Ameracaunas are black, medium-sized, and will lay blueish eggs, which is all kinds of fun. The Cochins are broody little bantys that are more for show and fun because they are little and poofy with fluffy feet. They may lay some, but (from what I've read), their eggs and small and make an appearance rarely.
I took a poll on Facebook on whether or not we should purchase chickens and the most comical were the replies that encouraged the purchasing of chicks if only to read about it on my blog. Because they WANT TO SEE THE TRAIN WRECK. We know nothing of chickens, but we like to eat eggs, especially of the free-range variety. This is our best attempt at country living. Shoot fire.
So, yay for you, dear Readership, for reveling in the pure joy of watching my country living attempts result in an epic fail in some way, whether it be a raid on the coop by a secretive group of malicious possums or my right eyeball being scratched out by a particularly moody hen. Either way, it's surely to make some good blog fodder. And, the little dears have grown on me.
The chickies currently reside in a tupperware box in our laundry room and their coop will be here Saturday.
Have a lovely day.