Primping Chickens.

We had almost 10 inches of rain here the other day.  I'm thankful our land has good drainage.  We did not suffer any major problems as a result of the weather.  Well, with the exception of the chickens.  The strong winds blew the rain into the chickens brooder.  They had about 2 inches of rain in the bottom of their pool.  They were soaked.  As soon as the rain subsided Lexie and I went to clean out the brooder and take care of the chickens. Oh, the stench!  Rain mixed with chicken waste, shavings and food is a deadly, stinky, dry heaving, gut wrenching, putrid mess.  I could not even begin to describe the smell.  I was having such a hard time getting close enough to the congealed mess to effectively clean so I did the only logical thing.  I got the garden hose with the most powerful spray setting I have and power-washed from a safe distance.  One that gave my sensitive gut a reprieve.  

Then, I had to deal with the chickens.  They were completely soaked and I was afraid they would get sick or die.  The only way I could think of to dry them was to use my blow dryer. Oh my goodness.  I can not tell you how ridiculous it felt to blow dry chickens.   I made Lex do it for a little bit.  It made  her feel ridiculous as well.  I took a little joy in that.  

 Worse yet, it took a very long time to blow dry them so I got bored.   My mind wanders when I'm bored.  I get pretty silly.  I start talking to the chickens.  Asking them what kind of "do" they want.  Fluffy or straight?  Mohawk or mullet?   Mullet.  Yes, that would be perfect.  It makes me think of men that look like this.  

Or this.. Then I get really creeped out. 

    Don't you miss the 80's?

Maybe I got the wrong kind of chickens.  Maybe I should have gotten some Silky Bantams.  Then I really could have had fun with their do's.  

 I started wondering if the chickens were getting too hot while being "blown out." That made me think of warm chickens.  Mmmmm. Roasted chicken.  With Rosemary and butter.  There is something very wrong with taking care of your precious chicks and imagining them in your roasting pan at the same time.  Poor chicks.  They have such a demented mother hen.

 

Well, the chicks are all doing well.  None of them are showing signs of illness.  My wonderful husband fixed up their stalls in the barn and they are now in their new home.  They have tons more room to run around, grow, and stay dry.