Molt

My chickens are molting.  I am now officially getting 5 eggs a day. And Turkey wants to be a mom.  Curious (with a little help from me.) got all of her children killed off.  Be sure to follow the milkin parlor.  My sister is working on posts.  She is also copying my style.  I should patent it.  Except I don't know how to do that.  Hmmm.  What else is there?  I think I am going to put up a new page.  It will be full of my chickens.  Pictures and names.  The ones that are alive currently.

These are the pigs.

The fat annoying  pigs.

The stinky lethargic, lazy, annoying, muddy, hateable, pigs.

Hateable isn't even a word.

Huh.

This is Faith.

Sweet loving Faith.

Sweet loving pregnant Faith.

 

Who would you rather live with?

Me?

I prefer my chickens.

And my cat.

Yep.

The tongue is actually sticking out.

This picture is about a year old.

It is also a great anti-depressant.

If you are ever depressed or feeling worthless.

This picture will give your life meaning.

 

Parker