He’s mean. He’s so mean, Princess won’t help with the chickens anymore. She says he comes after her when she goes to put them up at night. He watches for me when I go out to the chicken house to collect eggs. He dashes from the chicken yard into the house and harasses me while I’m taking eggs.
Then yesterday he bit me on the leg.
I think he’s about to become our first experiment in free ranging.
Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink
I baked Pepperoni Lasagna for dinner last night. I was out of ricotta cheese–but no problem! I had milk so I made my own!
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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