A Week of Photos

Oh man, I have been so busy. A few months ago we swapped our office and bedroom around, but we never properly organized the office area. It’s one big loft, so the plan was to divide it into three open concept areas: Grooming/dog kennel, computer desks/office, and video game corner/guest futon. It was poorly executed the first time though and quickly dissolved into chaos. Terrible, writer’s block inducing chaos. So we decided to just haul everything out and start with a blank canvas. Then while we were at that we also decided to condense all the video games into paper cases in a small box instead of taking up a shelf. Then we decided the shelving unit could use some customization. Then we decided we may as well shampoo the carpets while we were feeling inspired… I’m quite happy with the new layout though, so it was completely worth the hassle of dragging furniture around.

That’s the good news. The bad news is that I’m almost 100% sure both of these chicks are also males. That makes five roosters, which logically is at least four more than I can keep without it being cruel to the hens. Lovely. At this point I don’t know if I should try again in the spring or admit defeat and accept that I’m not meant to have a black d’Anvers pullet.

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On the plus side, the rooster I’m considering keeping is still going strong. He doesn’t harass the girls at all, which for a 6 month old cockerel is extremely unusual. I’ve taken to calling him Maystay, as in as long as he stays nice he may stay.

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He makes the best faces.

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The girls are also doing well. Zeste has gone back to laying eggs, but 6 weeks in and Sel is still showing no signs of being done raising her chicks. I’ve tried explaining to her that this is unusual and it’s time to let go, but she just ignores me. Right now she’s molting, and all her tail feathers came out at once making her look like a Barbu de Grubbe.

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And Zeste is… Well, Zeste is Zeste. Neurotic, high-strung, fabulous Zeste. Who insists on getting at least an hour of free range foraging time every day or she’ll redirect her energy onto over-zealously grooming the other chickens. Which means ripping their beards out. Affectionately. Because she thinks she’s being nice.

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