Holy Cats! It’s 47*!

Bonnie, Beatrice and Maude, experiencing coop freedom while standing atop their food bowl (yes, that’s half a lemon. They like lemon.)

Yes, I think officially I lost it (if I ever even had it, that is). I shoveled a path for the chickens in their fenced run from the coop door to their condo. It was about 25′, give or take.

And before you say “what’s the big deal,” please remember we have over 2′ of snow here. And their pen is about 42″ high. So I did the duck walk in the chicken run with the manure shovel.

Once I was finished, the darned biddies just looked at me, kind of saying, don’t you know the snow is, well, cold? Why would we walk through the stuff? Why, indeed.

5 responses to “Holy Cats! It’s 47*!

  1. what lovely ladies!

  2. I understand that. I shovel our deep snow from under the llama feeding spots, because the girls were dancing while knee deep in snow, and I felt sorry for them. It was painful to watch — it’s cold, it’s cold!

  3. Shhhhhhhh!

    Don’t say anything about the warm weather. Maybe the gods of winter won’t notice.

    Great farm.

  4. 40s are the new 70s. I feel like wearing a t-shirt outside! And the sound of trickling meltwater is so beautiful. Be gone! My chickens are determined to stand in their yard on top of a foot of ice. And may I say that chicken droppings on a shiny white backdrop are seriously unappetizing. And in the last few days we crossed a divide of some sort. Egg production is in full swing.

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