Well, that was interesting...
I was all set to get my chicken chores done after work and then get some work done outside on the coop (or any of a thousand tasks I need to do) - those babies really need to go outside. I had already been to Home Depot for the last bits, and, all revved up, I had cleaned waterers, fed the 12-week-old Littles and scooped their poop. I noted that it was 91F and there were some open mouths in there (no distress, of course), and that apparently their heat training was starting now (I don't put ice out unless it's over about 95-98F - and my adult Cream Legbars do really well in hot temps, maybe because of their small size).
It was hot, and humid, and I was sweating, but gotta take care of my peeps - so after swapping out the water in the rest of the coops, I then got to work in the back of the property scooping Tank and his Speckled girls' poop. The sun was shining, I was hot, and I was lamenting the end of spring. And then it happened - it suddenly got dark, the sky opened up, and a bunch of marble to golf ball sized hail came pelting down. Silly Speckled Sussex - Tank was calling for them to come in, but instead they were chasing bouncing hail like it was treats. So I got pummeled (fortunately I had a hat on to deflect the worst, but I'm sure I'll have bruises) while trying to get the Littles put up (they huddled under a pathetic sapling, too frightened to know to go in the coop), then rounding up the soaking wet and surprised SS. (The rest of the chickens had the good sense to take shelter - they're older, they've been through this before).
Sooooo.... then the sun came out. :/
I was so wet I was dripping, so I went inside, peeled off my clothes and put them in the washing machine, and opened a bottle of wine. Whatever it was that I thought I was supposed to get done today, I think God cast his vote for no yard work. And when I have big painful bits ice hurling at me for half an hour, who am I to argue.
Off to catch up - looks like it's been busy on the thread...
- Ant Farm
-Banti
I have a feeling my DH and your DW are probably reading the same book about chicken numbers, and don't appreciate our chicken math
