Boy was I a sight to see

If it wasn’t so early in the morning I’m sure my sister would have been up and snapping photos of the shit show going on in my backyard 5 minutes before I needed to leave the house.

Tropical Storm Andrea. Have you heard of her?  We’ll she’s wreaking havoc on my backyard i.e. making it nasty sopping wet, and my mother in law sent my husband home from the farm to help me move the chicken coop. 

Yeah, I know.

Ben called me to say it had to get done, I said can’t happen I’m running out the door for a meeting.  Well I lost that battle, because the chickens were my idea.

So we pick up the cage to move it under the deck.  All the chickens escape except the rooster who sat perched on his roosting bar in the only dry area of the coop.  Ben and I run around the back yard trying to gather the escapees while getting down poured on.  I was wearing Bens huge fly fishing boots so my pants didn’t get dirty and the chickens were waddling away from us in circles.  We get them into the basement (where the heck else would we put them?) and move the coop up under the deck.  Go into the basement and gather 3 of the 4 hens to put in the coop and lose the other in all of my little sisters storage.  So we’re moving mattresses to try and find the escape artist.

I was drenched, late to my meeting, and every time I look at myself in the mirror I’m reminded that those damn chickens are the reason I’m having such a bad hair day.

And those poor chickens…they must be frightened by all the moving they’ve had to endure this week.