Wednesday, December 19, 2007

My little neighbor boy is in 6th grade, I think. Since he is a boy, we just wave at him and buy Boy Scout popcorn once a year. C'mon, he is a boy after all! Handyman will tell you, it's just him, a lame, blind rooster, a rooster who weighs 2 lbs. and the rest of the boys on this property are neutered!! Anyway, our neighbor is a nice boy, other than that he blasts his trombone on occasion to try to get our roosters to shut up. (Doesn't work--our driveway is tooooooooo long.)

That poor boy gets on the bus at 6:30 a.m! I know, because I try to hay the Equine Money Suckers at 6:30 am, and there comes the bus, through the pitch dark with the twirling yellow light on top. I am not terribly coherent at this time of the morning. I don't always have all my undergarments in place; my hair is definitely not under control and I DO NOT brush my teeth before greeting my big snorty poop machines. This little guy across the street has had to get up, dressed, breakfast, got his backpack together and dash out the door, at 6:30~~He must get up before 6! How is that allowed?? I think if I wasn't homeschooling already when I moved here, that alone would put me over the wall! No child should be on a grind like that.

My chickens look sleepy at that hour. I know this because I put a light bulb in their house to wake them at 4 am. Some of you may think this is cruel, but it is a fact of chicken life that no sunshine makes for no eggs. And here in the great state of West-of Ohio, we have little sun after October. We are the reason for the term "palefaces". Sooooo, before the light bulb, my 17 or so hens were laying 1 or 2 eggs per day. That's a lot of chicken feed doing nothing! After light bulb, we're getting 6 eggs a day. That's a little better.

Don't anyone post to me about chicken soup--cause that ain't happening here at Netherfield Farm. We don't do death, unless we're pushed into it--like one former rooster who was hand-raised, and beautiful who took to chasing and spurring #1 to the point that she carried a trash can lid and a plastic light saber to protect herself. He would not even approach Handyman or my Dad, but as soon as #1 came through the gate, he was at DefCon 5. Well, he made a small tactical error by spurring #3 (at that time 2 years old, almost his height) on the cheek, just below her eye. She was actually bleeding! That was the signature on the death warrant. Papa woulda/coulda done with his own hands, I think, but he used my nice little gun he bought for me and Cogburn headed for that big henhouse in the sky.

But, I digress. My neighbor: nice boy who deserves his sleep. No child should be rousted before 6, well, to go to institutionalization, I mean. Cowboy children can get up by 6 and head out with their dads to work cattle. Check out !

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