Funny thing about this chicken addiction. It all seems to start out so innocently, and a couple years later... BOOM! An out of control Crazy Chicken Lady/Man is walking around wearing your shoes, kissing your spouse and living your life.
I refer to my friend Karen as my enabler. Our rather co-dependent friendship was born when she hatched chicks for me. Now I find myself bootlegging eggs to her in bi-weekly runs to a town an hour away. I quietly drop them off with our "messenger" and that evening Karen lets me know if the goods made it to her safely.
Yesterday we carried out a reversal of this kind of transaction when Karen met me in town with 16 young chickens.
And this coming week I'm involving my poor innocent husband when I get him to traffic most of these chicks to a person 3 hours away.
Yes - I'm a bootlegger, a dealer... and a trafficker. (OK - well none of this is actually illegal when you're talking about chickens... but I AM a bootlegger... because I wear boots... )
But for now, I have 16 young chickens in my laundry room. My husband (who is totally NOT a chicken person) normally gets frustrated if my addiction seeps into the house in this way, but all he said yesterday when he was trying to reach the dryer was, "It's getting a little crowded in here."
Yes - indeed, it IS quite crowded in the laundry room.
And it will stay crowded in the laundry room until Tuesday evening when my husband can make this ever-so-important run.
And "What in the world would make this run more important that any other chicken mischief you get into," you ask?
Well... it starts with the word "cabinet" and ends with the word "incubator!" Yup - I'm lucky enough to be able to trade some beautiful chicks for the incubator of my dreams.
Some might say I do a lot of dirty work. That would be true. (And that's why I wear boots.) But business is good (and a lot of fun)!
Yet admittedly, my new cabinet incubator will drag me deeper into da business...
But you know? There are worse things than to be the boss of a chicken cartel!
I refer to my friend Karen as my enabler. Our rather co-dependent friendship was born when she hatched chicks for me. Now I find myself bootlegging eggs to her in bi-weekly runs to a town an hour away. I quietly drop them off with our "messenger" and that evening Karen lets me know if the goods made it to her safely.
Yesterday we carried out a reversal of this kind of transaction when Karen met me in town with 16 young chickens.
And this coming week I'm involving my poor innocent husband when I get him to traffic most of these chicks to a person 3 hours away.
Yes - I'm a bootlegger, a dealer... and a trafficker. (OK - well none of this is actually illegal when you're talking about chickens... but I AM a bootlegger... because I wear boots... )
But for now, I have 16 young chickens in my laundry room. My husband (who is totally NOT a chicken person) normally gets frustrated if my addiction seeps into the house in this way, but all he said yesterday when he was trying to reach the dryer was, "It's getting a little crowded in here."
Yes - indeed, it IS quite crowded in the laundry room.
And it will stay crowded in the laundry room until Tuesday evening when my husband can make this ever-so-important run.
And "What in the world would make this run more important that any other chicken mischief you get into," you ask?
Well... it starts with the word "cabinet" and ends with the word "incubator!" Yup - I'm lucky enough to be able to trade some beautiful chicks for the incubator of my dreams.
Some might say I do a lot of dirty work. That would be true. (And that's why I wear boots.) But business is good (and a lot of fun)!
Yet admittedly, my new cabinet incubator will drag me deeper into da business...
But you know? There are worse things than to be the boss of a chicken cartel!
Wonderful.... haha....I have month old chicks in my guest room, & the dining room. I have 2 incubators going (one in said dining room) one in the basement in lockdown. Can't wait! And I just got a wine cooler I'm going to strip down and turn into a bator....life is good :) My oh so patient husband also thinks I'm crazy but quite likes the trilling at mealtimes. I am never going to get to the stage of chicken diapers but I can see how people can.
ReplyDeleteIf you can get him to go 3 hours away for an incubator, what would it take to get him to go transport to the Notre Dame area in Indiana where you could visit the campus, Lake Michigan beaches, and one of the largest and most well-known Amish auction and flea markets in the whole country?
ReplyDeleteJust what would it take..... ??
LOL! I believe I have a lovely pullet for you.
DeleteYou having one and me having one are 2 different things.....
DeleteEeeeks! Are you sure you want an incubator? You're addiction is already, er, let's just say - you're a tad addicted already. I have an incubator and I can tell you from my experience, TURN BACK NOW. Don't do it! ;) lol. It's a wonderful experience but I fear you may never see your laundry (or husband) ever again. Perhaps hubby needs to build you an outside area for your 'potential' hundreds (thousands) of chicks? Hubby? What do you think? Also, you know those sad lessons you've had to learn along the way, um, there's a heap more when incubating. Good luck! (whatever happens) *crossing fingers for you*
ReplyDeleteLOL! No worries, Zakgirl. I already have 2 small incubators so it's not completely new to me. Unfortunately with the small, cheap-o-bators there are too many sad lessons simply from issues with the incubators themselves.
DeleteWe will be moving soon (don't know to what house/farm yet) and the hope is to create plenty of space for all my chickeny things outside of the house... like in a barn. LOL! Keep your fingers crossed that we are able to find just the right place soon!
Leigh
Thanks for sharing your wonderful story! It made me smile on a day I needed a smile. Can't wait to hear about your new incubator getting used.
ReplyDeleteI like hearing that I made you smile! Sounds like you need a cyber-hug too... {{HUG}}. Hopefully there will be more smiles on the way when I start posting about moving... with 40+ chickens... (the fun never ends!)
DeleteAnd here's another smile for you, just in case you need an extra one! Click HERE For A Laugh
OK. I am feeling not so strange now. I just moved out the three week old Marans into their own coop--out of the front hall. The dust was getting pretty hard to stand. And the hen who decided to stop eating back in January, has recovered and she is out next to the babies, but in a dog crate. She was in the basement for a month. This awful single temps weather EVERY day here has really made it hard to put the girls outside. Heat lamps, heat lamps.
ReplyDeleteGood post with wonderful photos. Love it.
ReplyDeleteOMG You have a husband that reaches for the dryer? How did you train for this behavior?
ReplyDeleteWell... not any more. But if there is ever another boyfriend or Mr. CrazyChickenLady, rest assured he will know how to do laundry too! LOL!
Delete