If you know something different, just humor me, please. It does wonders for my ego.
And I think my afternoon visit to the new hoop house-turned-chicken coop did wonders for these crazy-looking roosters...or maybe it was the cracked corn I scattered on the ground.
Either way, I'm taking all the credit for brightening up their day. And while I was taking all the credit, I took a few photos, too...
I think that sideways glance says it all. Something like, "Excuse me lady, you're sitting on my dinner."
I could see it in his eye...and I heard it in his voice as he let loose a loud "cock-a-doodle-doo" in a quietly irritated tone.
After all, I don't like it when somebody sits on my dinner either...or steps on my birthday cake just before my tenth birthday party, but clearly I've forgiven my sister for that unfortunate event.
Clearly. Although how she managed to step on my cake is beyond me, and why my mother decided the floorboard of the car was the best place to put the cake while we drove to the party at Grandma's house is beyond me too.
Oh boy. There's just no way of knowing when these traumatic memories are going to pop up. Give me a minute while I try to shake this off...
Here--while I'm shaking, you watch the roosters scratching and pecking...
What's also nice is how well the roosters have cleaned up and cleared out this ground. You'd never know by looking at this area now, but it was a mess of overgrown grass and weeds just a few short weeks ago.
He had it up in no time at all, and then it was time to figure out how to clear the ground and improve the soil inside.
That's where the roosters came in. These fellas were extras and not really needed for breeding purposes, so we thought we'd give them something else to do...like spend the winter in the nice warm hoop house, scratching and pecking up all the grass and the weed seeds, and fertilizing the soil at the same time.
So far so good! Everybody's happy--the roosters are happy to have a project to work on, and my husband and I are happy that we don't have to work on that project. All we have to do is move those guys out before spring, till up the soil, and plant the seeds.
And try move past the saga of our childhood.
Or at least I do. And I'm fine now--really. I'm an adult.
And so is my sister, and despite that one accidental dessert-related disaster, she really is a lovely person. A lovely person who will still love me after reading this post, I'm sure of it. After all, I'm sure I did something equally as traumatic to her when we were growing up...although nothing seems to come to mind right now.
Oh well, I'll just pretend I was a perfect sister. It suits that ego of mine just perfectly.