Animal Planet....or Welcome to my World!

Attendance at the Weaver's today:

Jack
Norman
Biggles
Raggs
Pawley
Mille
Bechett
And there's a nice neighborhood cat that shows up occasionally to see what's happening.

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So, Dan says, "Mom, you'd love chickens.  You could eat their eggs."

All I think about is chicken poop.

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I don't have fond childhood memories of chickens.  The first time I met a chicken, I thought they would act like the Little Red Hen.  It didn't.  It cut the fool.

In fact, it showed out so bad, the farm lady wrung it's neck right in front of me.  (This could be why I didn't eat chicken for many, many years.)  "Dumplings," she stated matter-of-factly.

I know me.  I'd try and make pets out of them.  The dogs would want to chase them.  The cats would want to kill them.  The fox and coyote would come to Erin's Meat Market specializing in chicken....

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My friend, Diana, has wonderful chickens.  She named them after her friends.  Erin, the chicken, was doing well the last time I checked.  Diana's love for her chickens is the only reason I even think about chickens.  Her chickens have personalities.

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Have you ever seen a miniature horse up close?  Now, that appeals to me.  And goats....goats are tricky....but they could eat the grasses besides the creek.

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As Nancy Reagan would say, "Just say, "NO!"