Good-bye, Rosie (or possibly Julia)

Today was one of those days where you wake up only to be confronted with a dead chicken. Julia (or possibly Rosie) will be missed (although obviously not for her memorable personality/appearance--one fat and sassy RI Red looks a lot like another) -- she was one of our two egg layers. Aggie, who is not a layer, is doing just fine. Aggie is many feathers short of a pillow (hence her nickname "scraggy Aggie"), and is the dumbest chicken that ever walked the earth. She cannot find her own way back under the barn in the evenings, and stands outside the back door and cries until someone carries her home sigh sigh sigh. Anyway, like I said, she's doing just fine.


  1. As always, I ...

    Yeah. Sometimes I just don't know what to say about your life...

  2. I was doing the math, and it works out to two and half precious hours, give or take, of carrying a chicken around every year.

    Not really what I dreampt of, back when I was a girl.

  3. Sounds to me like Aggie has you well-trained.

    Maybe she just doesn't like to walk to the barn?


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