HnkyDnkyZZFarm
Chirping
I have conclusively discovered that wet hens are in fact not mad. Hey, inquiring minds wanted to know. (saying is actually supposed to be about breaking a brood, right?)
I just bathed/Permectrin dipped six hens in just under an hour. I honestly thought they would be mad as all get out given the saying. I went in prepared to do battle because of the saying. I contemplated having someone video record the fiasco I was preparing for.
Garbed in gloves, goggles, bandana and boots I filled my 5 gallon Homer Bucket, caught the first one and lowered its feet into the bucket, bracing myself for the worst... and nothing. I scrubbed and rubbed and separated feathers and removed the chicken from the bucket and wrung it out a bit. Still nothing. Set it down, and started in on the next, and the next and the next finishing all six without incident. They sort of just float there and wait till you let them go.
Afterwards they stood around the chicken yard, looking sort of dejected and confused about life. Like something monumental just happened here, and they couldn't quite wrap their walnut sized little brains around it. Most stood on one foot, trying to shake their neck feathers back out. They looked sad. Like they suddenly understood both the meaning of life and that they are actually chickens. Like they suddenly were cast out of the Garden of Eatin and the world would never be the same.
I'm sure they'll get over it.
I can taste permectrin still almost two hours later though. Everything smells like a latex glove soaked in superglue. I got a bonus treatment in the process. Even with compliant hens, there's just no way to not soak yourself in the process. I will be pest repellent for the next thirty days. I may even glow in the dark. *ptooey! YUK!*
I just bathed/Permectrin dipped six hens in just under an hour. I honestly thought they would be mad as all get out given the saying. I went in prepared to do battle because of the saying. I contemplated having someone video record the fiasco I was preparing for.
Garbed in gloves, goggles, bandana and boots I filled my 5 gallon Homer Bucket, caught the first one and lowered its feet into the bucket, bracing myself for the worst... and nothing. I scrubbed and rubbed and separated feathers and removed the chicken from the bucket and wrung it out a bit. Still nothing. Set it down, and started in on the next, and the next and the next finishing all six without incident. They sort of just float there and wait till you let them go.
Afterwards they stood around the chicken yard, looking sort of dejected and confused about life. Like something monumental just happened here, and they couldn't quite wrap their walnut sized little brains around it. Most stood on one foot, trying to shake their neck feathers back out. They looked sad. Like they suddenly understood both the meaning of life and that they are actually chickens. Like they suddenly were cast out of the Garden of Eatin and the world would never be the same.
I'm sure they'll get over it.
I can taste permectrin still almost two hours later though. Everything smells like a latex glove soaked in superglue. I got a bonus treatment in the process. Even with compliant hens, there's just no way to not soak yourself in the process. I will be pest repellent for the next thirty days. I may even glow in the dark. *ptooey! YUK!*
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