Sleeps With Chickens

Photo from Mother Earth News

That's my new Indian name.

Glen gave it to me at 3am this morning when he found me in my chair in the livingroom with a bra on, covered in poison ivy and sleeping with a baby chicken.

There is never a dull moment in this house.

I would love to show you some pictures, but I'm too tired to take them.  Sleeping with a day old chicken isn't easy.  I do remember a couple of dreams, so I know I slept some. The poor thing nearly chirped itself to death last night before I finally got up at 11 and consoled it. 

To clear up any confusion - Maude was sitting on 9 duck eggs, I suppose whilst she was away from her nest, a chicken happened upon it and decided to lay an egg herself.

Ergo - two chicken eggs be up in the nest, and one hatched.

I've spent the morning searching for more baby chickens.
Poultry Auction, Craig's List.

Maude is proving to be as unstable as a teenage brat star.  I don't know that I need to elaborate here and compound her shame.  She couldn't have mothered this chicken, as she kept leaving the nest and leaving it exposed to the three cats in the yard, and the other chickens, which have been known to be rather brutal to babies.  Law, I don't know if that bird be tippin' the bottle or doin' the crack.  Not sure which demon has her, but I'm thinking it's the demon liquor.

She's gone at the moment, and has been off the nest for more than an hour.  The nest isn't covered as it usually is when she's gone.  This doesn't bode well my friends.

I put the stuffed chicken that Cindy brought me in the cage with it - it seems to be soothing it, and breaking my heart at the same time.  I think I have no choice other than buy a small dog purse, paint it's toenails, buy that bird some bling and carry it everywhere I go.

And don't you think for a heartbeat I wouldn't.