Chickens. I want chickens. I stayed up last night googling chickens, I dreamed about chickens, I woke early this morning and lay there thinking about chickens.
We waste SO much food in this house, and it's not due to lack of planning, just two young kids that have varying appetites and tastes. Today they will eat three bits of toast, tomorrow three bites. They might like carrot today and loathe it tomorrow. And since I don't want to add their leftovers to my daily energy input, into the bin they go! (The leftovers, not the kids...) I contemplated feeding the scraps to Archie the dog, but he has his own chunky issues so that option's out. So.... Chickens it is.
A few years ago I built a dog kennel for our wonderful German Shepherd (vale, Baya) but it isn't used at the moment. I reckon if I slap a roost, a nesting box and a feeder in there, and rig up a water supply, the chickens will be safe from any predators, weather or atomic attack that may come (I over engineered the kennel just a wee bit. It's as solid as a guest house and almost as big. Every time we move the removalists need hernia operations afterwards. It took two whole bottles of liquid nails and about three hundred real ones to build. It's also the ugliest blue in creation.) I'll also need to add another access door, and make a door for the entry hole. I love a bit of woodwork! Hooray!
So, this morning I will drag the kids out to the tips recycling shop, and see what we can pick up to make some chickens comfortable.
And yes, for the record, I am keeping ridiculously busy with new projects so I can try and forget that I am missing Mr Accident with everything fibre of my being. And no, it's not working. But at least this way I can be sad WITH CHICKENS. So much better than being both sad and chickenless.
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