Well, it turns out that we are indeed pet owners and NOT farmers. The week before Spring Break we heard some serious squawking one morning. Roger leapt out of bed and saw French Toast flapping around. He went on a search and discovered that a fox had gotten the other 3 hens. A farmer would have had friends over for a nice feast that evening, but since we're PET OWNERS we had a funeral for the 3 casualties, talked Alex out of building a trap that would cut off the fox's head, and made plans for the acquisition of their replacements.
Today Murdoch's finally got their chicks in. We headed over after school to choose our new buddies. It's hard to think of anything even half as cute as a baby chick, but the look on the kids' faces as they hold their new little friends comes close.
The names have not been picked yet, but we now have a Buff Orpington, a Rhode Island Red, a New Hampshire Red, and a Black Australorp. I should have paid closer attention to which chick is which, because the first three are all golden and hard to distinguish between. Max chose his because the adults have black feathers with a green or purple sheen. I aimed everybody towards good layers - we'll find out how well that worked out in 6 months.
In other news, the question 'Can the Jeep really run out of gas?,' which has indeed been tested a number of times but never successfully answered, can now be laid to rest. As long as I am the one driving. Yet again, I ran out of gas RIGHT next to the gas station closest to my destination - in this case the one essentially across the street from my house. Luckily this only happens to me every decade or so, and luckily a nice gal pushed me off of Main Street with her Blazer, and I was able to make the 'walk of shame' carrying the gas can to rescue the Jeep before the rain started. We'll see if the promised snow arrives tonight, putting the cherry on top of this little sundae.
