Cluck

Written by hootenannie on September 3rd, 2007

I have been absent from the blogging world for an entire week, which is quite unusual for me. To be honest, I have been trying to think of something to blog about.

But never fear: I have just the topic.

Since the beginning of July, I have been living in Laurelhurst with the greatest family. They are warm and kind and generous, not to mention ridiculously good-looking. It is not an unusual occurance for me to find all 5 of them out in the front yard, busy being the All-American family (dad working on the car, mom working in the garden, boy riding his bike, girls jumping rope and playing hopscotch, dog romping). It’s like a tiny version of Mayberry, right in the middle of Seattle.

And then you walk around to the backyard, and see that life at this house only gets better: a thriving vegetable garden, a chicken coop with three chickens, and a big, gorgeous tree. If I knew what I was talking about, I would tell you what kind of tree it is… but I don’t. Anyway.

The Geimans are on vacation this week, which means that I have a few tasks while they are gone:
1) bring in the mail each day.
2) pick as many tomatoes as I can eat.
3) collect the chicken eggs every morning.

Now, let me tell you a story. Every time that I see a chicken coop, I remember back to the time that I pet-sat for some friends when I lived in Colorado. They had a large chicken coop with several ducks in it; each day, I needed to walk into the coop to feed them. One morning, I walked in to find five headless duck bodies. Apparently, skunks eat duck brains. It was traumatic, to say the least.

Back to the present. It has been an adventure to collect the chicken eggs this week. I open the door, and all three chickens immediately start walking toward me, heads bobbing forward, glottal “clucks” generating deep in their throats, wings folded neatly against their large, cavernous abdomens. At first, this behavior scared me – what if they attack? But never fear: contrary to popular belief, chickens are actually quite docile.

Some days there are eggs. Other days there are none.

And… ummmm… that’s all I’ve got. I AM SUCH A BAD BLOGGER!

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