Saturday, April 20, 2019

A Smelly Day For Chickens

The time? Three minutes after six in the morning. I am in that zone where I am not awake and yet not asleep - the purgatory between Friday night and Saturday day. What pulls me out of purgatory into Saturday day? The sound of panicked chickens wakes me up. I rouse myself and look out the bedroom window to see a skinny fox with black feet standing ten feet away from the chicken run and it looks like it is about to make another threatening run at the coop. I open the window. I yell, "I see you! Get out of here!" As if it can understand English, the fox turns so I can see the white tip of it's tail and scurries off to the east down the hill.  Are we going to go through this waltz all summer; ;morning after morning after morning?  I hope not. After feeding and watering the chickens I give them fresh bedding of wood chips.  I take 3 rags and place them east of the coop.  I soak each rag in wolf pee. I tell the chickens they will have a smelly day but better to smell wolf urine than be a fox's chicken dinner.

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