i have decided that, although i love my baby chicks, there are two i could live without. i made a poem about one of them: (it's totally ridiculous, and not my poetry at its finest;)
they plotted and plotted, and found a way out,
they knew that it's much more fun to roam about.
they ran around the yard and ate,
until it was too late
and a bigger chicken found them out.
#1. we rescued one of the chicks, but barely. the other one...probably got eaten by the coyote. it made me quite upset when caleb showed me what the big chickens did to my little chick. who knew that big chickens hate baby chicks so much?! a bit messy, and it made me queasy.
#2. baby chicken poop. this morning, i went out to the barn to give them some water. i planted my hand on the handle of the water basin...and there was the nastiest poop, just sitting there...now smeared on my fingers. *what is this stuff?* i asked, being stupid enough to smell it (i'm not even sure why i would do something like that). gagging, and reeling back, i finished my duties and stumbled back into the house. no matter how much i wash my hands, i feel like i can still smell the atrocity. gag.
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