I can't get over the lingering feeling that there is something unnatural about having April in January. Like, we're going to be in for it with a blizzard later or the bugs this Summer are going to be twice as bad or something....
Unburdened with such higher levels of thought, the ladies are loving it. They were cheerful to see me this morning. (Well, they're always cheerful to be fed, but--you know--more cheerful than usual.)
Of course, the super observant among you will notice that the title of this post references five chickens, when--when last we discussed them--the flock was comprised of six ladies. The sad story can be summed up in two short sentences: Florence escaped. Moe enjoyed.
Even more unfortunately, we were down to only one chicken laying eggs. Anyone want to guess which one?
Yup. It was Flo.
And we had just gotten the Kid accustomed to an egg each morning for breakfast, which means...oh the shame of it...store-bought eggs.
I'm kidding. Mostly.
It also means I'm chicken shopping. I think we're going to try a few pullets this year. I'm ready to be swimming in our own eggs again ASAP.