The Chicken Chronicles: SNAKE !! SNAKE !! SNAKE!!

Early morning will find us in the study, half asleep and beginning the day.   There was an unusual sound something like a long plea, maybe a chicken or a rare bird.  We ran through the house to the back porch where we keep the chickens at night, covered in a make shift quasi rabbit hutch turned chicken coop.  There were birds shrieking and flying in and out of the covered part of the porch.  I jerked the multi colored quilt off the coop.  The girls were huddled around my beautiful white Kitty Wells and she was wrapped with an ugly black rope choking and choking her.  I screamed and thought, “Lord, please don’t make me watch this chicken die… I have to get that snake now.”  The snake released and started moving out of the coop and into the balled up quilt.  I pulled the hutch away from the wall and jerked the  quilt off.  Thank you, God, for my youngest son who had already ran for the shot gun; but, you can’t shoot that close to the house where there are bricks and concrete and glass.  He had presence of mind to get his Daisy BB Gun and start shooting as the snake huddled under the barbeque pit in the corner.   My son’s plan was to get it stunned enough to move it out on to the grass with the shovel.  The plan worked.  He pumped that minion of Satan with as many BBs as he could and then moved him to the grass and blew it’s head off with the shot gun!

Finally, I had relented and stopped bringing the chickens in the mud room at night just this week.  They surely would be safe right under the porch by the back door.  I couldn’t bare the thought of Kitty Wells or any of her sisters being killed by something so evil.  How was that snake ever going to digest a chicken that size?  What was the plan?  Choke and then move on?  I have no idea, just gratitude for my son, for mercy, for silly chickens.   Those chickens are coming in the house at night.  We are building something with even smaller wire and I am going to pray and pray.  Get behind me, Satan!

My pretty girl knows something is up.  She’s the white one.  Good chickens!  Good birds that have been driving me crazy flying under the porches.  You told and we were able to save her!

The Chicken Chronicles: The Tub

On a rainy morning before the sun cam up, not too long after we brought the girls home, I was thinking of what I would do with eight chickens inside the house in a box.  Plain and simple, I was feeling sorry for them especially when I peeked in the box and saw this…

In my early morning, pre-coffee haze, I thought of the bath tub …


Believing the best, I want to think of her as a chick sitter; but, because she has had a chick’s head in her mouth I am still unclear on Catie’s true motives…

Stay tuned for more of The Chicken Chronicles.

Introducing…The Girls!

Please allow me to introduce the girls…all eight of them! (They go in and out of the garage through the side door located inside the house.  I’m serious, there is a doorway into the garage from the house.  They use the windows, too, for escaping.  This was my play house when I was a little girl.  My sister’s kids and mine played with it.)

“Really, are you joking?” That’s what Catie thinks.  She has been the “only girl” and not taking this too well.

We bought pairs and they tend to stay with their sister.  I have no idea what I am doing.  My plan is to love them, feed them and take their eggs.  My vision for them is that they will be exceptional chickens knowing their names, potty trained at an early age and cleaning up after themselves in no time at all.

Moving closer, Catie seems really disgusted, “I’m not gonna put up with this.”  You may see something else but I know her and she is possessive, territorial and does not share.  In fact, having taught preschool, I know that she would not receive the ‘plays well with others’ star on her chart.  I knew it, a few minutes later some of the girls escaped from their yard and Catie had one in her mouth.  You should have heard all the chirp, Chirp, CHIRP, CHIRP!!  They told on her, “you’re gonna get it now, sister.”  (No photos of this because I had to throw the camera down and get the baby.  Although, Catie was holding it ever so gently, by the wing,  with a perplexed ‘what now?’ look on her face.)

“This is not working out for me.  How about you?”


It’s the end of the day so out of the play yard and into the box with the heater.    As you probably noticed, they’ll work on cleaning up after themselves tomorrow. Good night girls.