Leave a CommentShare: |
Subscribe
;

Then I need one. I don’t even know what a woodchuck is. Anyway, we’re working on our woodpile! Well, that is the royal “we”…….. Though! I’m thinking about chopping some just so I can say I did. Maybe that one little piece right there…..
Registration is required to leave a comment on this site. You may register here. (You can use this same username on the forum as well.) Already registered? Login here.
Discussion is encouraged, and differing opinions are welcome. However, please don't say anything your grandmother would be ashamed to read. If you see an objectionable comment, you may flag it for moderation. If you write an objectionable comment, be aware that it may be flagged--and deleted. I'm glad you're here. Welcome to our community!
If you would like to help support the overhead costs of this website, you may donate. Thank you!
"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....
Make friends, ask questions, have fun!
Be a part of something big.
Prints and Free Wallpaper!
by odell on February 11, 2012
by JoJo on February 11, 2012
by MaryB on February 11, 2012
by wvhomecanner on February 11, 2012
by UlrikeDG on February 11, 2012
"Cookies are good." Read my barnyard stories....
Entire Contents © Copyright 2004-2012 ChickensintheRoad.com.
Text and photographs may not be published, broadcast, redistributed or aggregated without express permission. Thank you.
4:05
am
7:07
am
7:08
am
7:10
am
11:05
am
11:51
am
12:08
pm
12:19
pm
1:04
pm
1:21
pm
We haven’t had a problem with our gardens, but they keep digging under the front part of our old farmhouse (crawl space under the very front rooms, basement under the rest) and sometimes gnaw on the beams. One ate thru the wall and popped into the kitchen when my mom lived over there. Ern fills their holes with concrete and old pots and metal stuff and they just dig a longer tunnel from farther out. Had critter catchers catch some. Next season another one showed up. We think they’re imprinted–Ern says they probably had ancestors living here before the house was built over a 100 years ago.
Anyway, we have them all over the place here. Probably because it’s farming country and unlimited access to corn and soybeans. They’re cute but persistant. We have to watch where we walk and drive the riding lawnmower. More than once I got the mower stuck when a wheel fell into a new hole that wasn’t there last time I mowed.
I think they’ll eat bark, but I don’t believe they’ll chop up wood for you. For that, you’d need a beaver? A trained beaver?
1:24
pm
What I meant to say, is it not the most wonderful feeling to look out and see stacks of wood all lined up for winter? Our wood is in big mounds a cord or two high, each with a tarp over it. Like tarp igloos. I feel so safe. Chimney swept for the year, mounds of wood all ready to go.
1:54
pm
4:44
pm
11:48
am