Listening to the girls feed the chickens a roach they stepped on. I know what you're thinking, and I agree. Gross. But everyone's happy (except the roach), so we all win.
This week we've made a boundary of sorts in the backyard using the top and bottom of the box our treadmill came in---putting the boxes on their sides so the chicks can't fly over them, with our Oak tree being the other border along with the wooden fence. Huge box, and perfect to set as a fence so the chickens can play out back. We have to stay with them, though. They're crafty little beggars. Milk got away from me yesterday and she could RUN. Finally got her hemmed in against the wooden fence and picked her up as quick as I could. My goodness.
Gary's deadline to make a hen house of sorts is coming closer and closer. Oh, and I do have a video I took of us playing with them last night on the kitchen floor. They pooed all over the place. Must've been all the worms they scratched up yesterday. Milk (I see a pattern here) even did it in my shirt pocket, while she was sitting on my shoulder. Not a good idea---not so much the sitting on the shoulder part, but the pooing bit. Again I say, "Gross."
Well, must go. Time to play with the pooing machines once again. Sure does keep a person's sense of humor in use.
