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Mother Nature hates Virginia, possibly.

So I’ve been quiet not because I’ve been busy, or not just because I’ve been busy, but also because Tropical Storm Lee was passing overhead for approximately the past week, dumping a metric crap-ton of rain on us and also obliterating the internet connection here at home. Fun. Only not.

The deluge of rain meant moving most of the silkies into the shed, which was already occupied by the porcelain trio I picked up on our trip to Philadelphia to drop off Coriander with her new person. I was able to get Lucifer in but Asmodeus refused to be caught. Hilariously, with no other adultish roosters in residence, Lucifer not only went all *FOOF*ROOSTERTASTIC*FOOF*[1] and started crowing, but decided that the group of seven juveniles was his little flock. So when I moved them all back outside and tried to put him in the pen with the rest of the chickens, he objected mightily and repeatedly snuck back in with the juveniles. Finally I just left him to it — he seems very happy watching over his little flock of adolescents and is strutting around all “Oh yeah, I’m the big roo.” He even managed to somehow keep them mostly dry when it rained last night, which means I have to worry about them less. A good rooster is a definite blessing to a flock!

While Lucifer was busy going roostertastic in the shed, the dogs were busy driving us nuts indoors because it was too wet and miserable for playing outside. Sid’s training continues apace — yesterday he went to the optometrist with me to order new glasses since Beowulf or Zille one tried to eat my glasses overnight, then to Panera for food and Tractor Supply for chicken food. He was a huge dork at the optometrist, whining and bouncing and otherwise pretending I had never trained him at all, even a little bit, but calmed down by the time we got to Panera. A Weimaraner whose people had pretty obviously never bothered to train him, just slapped a prong collar on and called it good, even barked at him uproariously and all he did was stand up and growl. Well, he did let loose one “woof” but it was practically sotto voce coming from him, so I let it slide. His normal response to being barked at involves a bark so loud and thunderous that his front feet lift off the ground.

Meanwhile, the storms have cleared and theoretically we should be pretty dry for the next week barring hurricanes and tropical storms, which will give me and Daniel a chance to expand the chicken infrastructure as necessary and play tons of fetchy with Zille.

[1] Interestingly, if you have a large group of roosters, the subordinate ones will not rooster out very much at all, which is probably a way of preventing battles to the death, or something. So Lucifer was roostery enough to tell he was a rooster, but not all ROOSTERTASTIC or as roostertastic as silkies get, anyway. A week in the shed with no other mature roos to compete with, and he has started crowing and grown some substantial wattles in a beautiful mulberry shade.

2 thoughts on “Mother Nature hates Virginia, possibly.

  1. Ok, this is probably a dumb comment to those who are familiar with “chickenhood”, but I didn’t realize roosters will help tend the juveniles!

  2. Thank you for introducing the phrase “going roostertastic” into my lexicon.

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