April 4, 2013
Frankie came over early this morning and Elliot and I held the male kids while she castrated them with a special castrating tool. It was hard to watch but she explained that the other methods, cutting and banding, were even worse. Still, not my favorite.
I met with Bill this afternoon about staying, etc. He seemed really happy about it. He told me there was not much more to do legally regarding the property. I talked with him about my concerns regarding credit issues on the farm. He said that he would help me if I needed it but he wasn’t concerned.
Also: The chicks are taking over my life.
April 5, 2013
Jodie came over for dinner and a movie. We watched Blazing Saddles and had leg sex again on the couch (It’s an inside joke between me and Liv). I saw the movie before with my mother, but I still died laughing at Madeleine Kahn as Lili Von Shtupp. Jodie had not seen it before, so I watched her a lot instead of the movie, especially during the scene where Mongo punches the horse. Her face contorted into a grimace and she almost choked laughing.
She is so beautiful. I was daydreaming about the two of us lying together in my twin bed, running my fingers through her hair, and finally, finally taking that step together. Is it possible to die of anticipation?
April 6, 2013
I’m just going to say the love affair with the baby chicks may be over. Mother Nature made chicks cute on purpose. I mean, I’ve seen pictures, and they pop out of the egg all ugly and wobbly, but as soon as they’re dry, BAM! They’re so adorable only a psychopath (or another chicken) could be heartless enough to be able to kill them. Excuse my rant, but this happens for three reasons:
1) They are goofy. They have to be taught to drink and eat, even though they know how to do it already and food and water are the only other things in their cage. When an older bird bounds towards you, trusting that you are bringing it a treat because why else would you be there, you can see the inner chick in those wild, searching eyes. They’re ferocious. If you’ve ever seen one chase a mouse, you’ll want to start wearing gloves around them, but then one on of them sits down on your boot, and you’re like, “Aww.”
2) They are filthy. Even as chicks, they poop everywhere – their feed container, their water container, where you’re walking, and even on you. Sometimes their poopy little butts stay poopy and you have to carefully pull dried poop off their butts. (This is a real condition called pasty butt.) The pine shavings smell great when they first go into their pen, but after a few days, they turn into this oatmeal/twiggy substance that has to be scooped and scraped out. Which brings me to my next point:
3) They stink. The birds themselves don’t usually, but their poop has to be constantly cleaned out of their coops and nest boxes. And, apparently, their poop and urine cake up on the ground, and you have to dig it up and cart it out in the spring and fall. Delightful.
Okay, I’m off my rant. Anyway, back to the cute, cuddly birds. A couple of times a day I go out to their brooding pen to take care of them. I clean out their waterers and feeders and refill them. Even though Elliot has warned me not to get attached since these are meat birds, I still pick one or two up each time and talk to it. I have to, they are so stinking cute. I learned pretty quickly not to go near the grey chicken’s babies unless I want to get pecked or told off, but Elliot said we can put some eggs on to hatch or hit the local hatchery, my call, depending on how soon we want them to be laying.
I thought about hatching some eggs for us, but Elliot talked me into buying some pullets in the fall. There’s just too much going on. I finally got internet at the house this week, but I will still go to the library to work sometimes. Finally, I can work here without using my hotspot.
April 7, 2013
The big day finally came. Jodie invited me over to meet Russ; I mean meet him as her girlfriend. I felt a little weird, having never officially met a girlfriend’s parents, but they made it okay for me. They were going to watch a basketball game, and Russ was grilling some steaks for us. I brought some green beans from Dad’s canning collection and rolls from the grocery store. Jodie made a giant bowl of potato salad, and we sat down with full plates and drinks in front of the game.
“You follow basketball?” Russ cut a strip of steak and stuffed it in his mouth.
“No. I played soccer when I was little, and I went to a lot of volleyball games in college, but I don’t really follow sports. I watch a game every now and then.” I looked at the screen but couldn’t tell who either team was.
“So, it’s Wichita State and Louisville. Whoever wins this game will play the winner of the next game tomorrow.” Russ sipped his beer.
I took a bite of potato salad.
As Jodie tore her roll in half, she said, “Hey, tell Dad about what’s going on at the farm.”
