The adventures of Barbara (BR)

You are the VERY best story-teller, Mrs. Chickendad!! I'm so glad Barbara checked the new doorway for adequate butt room-a most important consideration in many aspects of life. I'm having to do that very same check on all my cool weather clothing these days....the move from shorts every year is always frightening until I see if there is still enough stretch in the pants to allow re-entry! Keep up the wonderful writing!! Can't wait to hear about Fowlfest!
 
Thank you, Debby! Of course, these are really Barbara's stories, I only relay them on.

I wore Barbara's T shirt to Fowlfest today, as did Barbara's friend, Babette. Many people commented on Barbara's likeness and her butt. At least I think it was HER butt . . . . .
 
Barbara Has a Party

The Chickendads were busy getting chicken housing shaped up for winter. Mrs. Chickendad decided to clean the Honeymoon Hotel and get it organized. The leaf blower did an excellent job getting all the dust and debris out of the room and down inside Mrs. Chickendad’s shirt. It was very prickly and Mrs. Chickendad now knew how those pinfeathers must feel to the girls.

Barbara and the girls wandered in to supervise. They held a dance in the middle of the floor sweepings and checked all the corners carefully for spilled grain. They left remembrances on the clean floor. Mrs. Chickendad thought it was like going two steps forward and one back with the girls helping, but she persisted, and soon the Honeymoon Hotel was clean and ready for business.

Mrs. Chickendad arranged metal garbage cans along the back wall and filled them with feed. Chickendad cleaned all the Honeymoon Suites and made nice deep beds of fresh wood shavings. Barbara and the girls went off to strut up and down in front of the Silly Ameraucanas who were still confined to their new pen until they could be trusted to find their way back when let out.

The three guinea keets were living with the Mille Fleur Cochins, although this will change soon, and they watched Barbara and the Big Girls teasing the Ameraucanas. The guinea keets made their rusty pump handle calls, adding ambience to the party that was shaping up.

The Chickendads were busy elsewhere outside and Barbara thought it the perfect opportunity to reinspect the Honeymoon Hotel. She and Roastmary strolled in and—Eureka! A huge bag of sunflower seeds was propped up against the feed can! Party food! Barbara and Roastmary could see all the yummy sunflower seeds, but they could not taste them. Barbara honed her beak on the concrete floor and rapped sharply on the bag. A few seeds trickled out. “Oh,” thought Roastmary, “this is how it is done!”

She pecked at the bag, gingerly at first, then harder. More seeds trickled out. Barbara and Roastmary got more and more excited as the luscious black seeds piled up. The other Big Girls came in to help and the party took up inside. It was mayhem with the eight Big Girls in a feeding frenzy, Bob the Rooster standing right there calling them to tell them he had found food (Bob is not shy about taking credit), the keets screeching in the background, and the Little Cochin Boys “bucka-bucka-bucka-buckaing” outside the door. The Little Cochin Boys spend more time talking about treats than they do enjoying treats themselves. A scoop of seed in their pen usually only results in conversation about how great it is, not the actual enjoyment. It must be the way of Little Boy Chickens.

(Pictures taken AFTER it was cleaned up . . . the first time. Right: Roastmary and her sister Roastanne conversing at the party)
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Mrs Chickendad: 'Note to self: Always put the seeds IN the bin!'

Can't blame Barbara if the Chickendads leave the seed just lying around
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Thanks again!!!!
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The story about Roastmary and Roastanne goes back to the time a few years ago when Chickendad announced that he thought we should get chickens. I thought back to the time many years earlier when we had a variety flock that re-landscaped the yard, dug up all the flower bulbs, pooped all over and were generally a nuisance. At the time we were raising our family, and extra work and mess was not something I was enthusiastic about.

So this time, I told Chickendad that any chickens we got would be confined to runs and not allowed to run willy-nilly all over the place. Roastmary and Roastanne were so named as a reminder that if they didn't do their job, they might be dinner. I was not going to tolerate what happened before.

Well, after looking at sad Chickie Girl eyes looking at all the green grass outside the pen, I relented and let them out JUST FOR AN HOUR before bedtime. And those darn little cochins looked so cute . . . they would enjoy being out, too . . . and they looked so pretty fluttering across the grass. Well, one thing led to another and now we have chickens running all around the place. Roastmary and Roastanne have proved to be our two best layers and have held up their end of the bargain, rarely going on sabbatical. They keep the Big Chickie Girls, as well as Rooster Bob, in line although Barbara is an independent spirit and a force unto herself. Barbara and the Roasts have an understanding. I guess we all do . . .
 

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