Monday, 18 March 2013

How Did A Chicken Get In My Bathtub?

I don't think I have the words to adequately describe how crazy last week was!  Maybe you can get the gist with some hastily snapped pictures.  I think it's become a habit to snap a few and I didn't even know I had most of them until I went to use the camera today.

A week ago today I was revelling in the first mellow sunset since this stormy winter began. ~

Monday morning I had the wonderful surprise of the first spring flowers. ~

By the next day we had this. ~

I've been helping out a friend who broke (completely shattered, actually) her ankle on the wicked ice we've had this year, so I'm making my way to the chicken coop gingerly these days.

Her husband dropped a couple of bags of straw off on the front porch for my chickens. In the morning I see something needed a warm bed and pulled a bag of straw apart right beside the front door. Canine is my guess from the tracks.~

That won't be fun to clean up but I'm glad it had some refuge from the storm.

Not one but two offers came in on my rental property.  A change of real estate agent and we have action! The second offer bumps out the first and wants to close in four days!  This sets off a flurry of calls to lawyers, utilities and tax offices to try and pull this end of the paperwork together in record time.  This is a big house, it's fully staged and all the furniture and accessories have to be removed.  Removed to where? Ekes!  Wait, there is a snag in the financing.  The deal is on hold and the agent doesn't want anything taken out of the place.  At 5:30 on Wednesday the deal is confirmed and everything has to be out by midnight Thursday!  Start hauling furniture and packing dishes and make more calls to start giving a lot of it away.


All I have to do on Friday is pick up my cheque and head to a party friends are holding to celebrate the sale.

Oh, and take my lawyer a couple of jars of my dill pickles.  It's a deal we have going.  My daughter misunderstood me when I said he always wanted pickles when he did work for me.  She said, "Mom, I think it's just weird that your lawyer wants tickles."  Right, Farm Girl, pickles is weird enough but I draw the line at tickles!

Let's tuck the chickens in for the night and head out.  That wouldn't be nearly enough drama, would it? Of course not.  I open the coop and find Gertie bleeding profusely.  How she got the wound, I don't know, but this has given the other three girls the idea that she'd make a nice meal.  I'm holding her up so they don't cannibalize her and frantically dialling my cell to get my friend to Google how to stop bleeding in a chicken.  Did you know the blood will spray out of them like you cut an artery open?  One Google solution is to dump flour on the wound.  Seriously?  Her husband will be right over with some steptic powder.  I dial Farm Girl to see if it's okay to use it on a chicken.  I call it septic and she feels the need to correct me.  Really?  Blood is spraying all over my face and she wants to discuss pronunciation, grammar, syntax ...!

Gertie is in quarantine for the weekend so the girls will leave her alone.  She has to stay in a cramped cat cage and I was debating giving her a bath.

I really don't want to take a chicken in the house and bathe it, but that dried blood is a real problem if I don't want her to get pecked to death. ~

As I'm standing there debating the craziness of putting a chicken in my bathtub, I realize one of my sister's chickens is looking very bad.  To be honest, that chicken is old and probably on her way out but she looks like she might be egg bound.  The only help I know for that is to stand the bird in warm water.  She liked it so much she lay down in it. Now, I'm juggling too many sick chickens. Out comes my phone and I call my sister to come over and help.  The weather is turning cold and I have a wet chicken to warm up.

So I ended up with a chicken in my bathtub after all! ~

Dizzy Lizzy got to stay in the tub to warm up and we moved the unused, little chicken coop into the run so Gertie has a space to move around in during the day. ~

And that, my friends, was my week.  How was yours?