March 27th. It's my chickens' first birthday. The girls got to take their saddles off today because I got rid of their rooster (not exactly a birthday present to him but that's life isn't it?). It was kind of weird. I have the flu, hacking up a lung, feel like crap, went out to the coop to collect eggs and they all filter in from outside with blood on their beaks, blood on their feathers, blood on their saddles. They were picking at his comb which was still "healing" from frostbite (if they'd ever let it be) and I'd just had enough - took him with me to the milk house and dispatched him, the first time I'd ever done it. I'd been thinking about it for a while since he'd been semi-aggressive towards everyone but me (he was sweet to me) and with him having fathered six chicks so far and with another six in the bator - plenty of future roosters to contend with. So he's in the crock pot now, simmering into a broth that I hope will help with this flu. He was a good boy, Frittata, and I'm probably the only one who will miss him.
Nap time.