winter beasts

I've been meaning to update the 6 of you that read this on our chicken coop. Here are some chicken thoughts that have been cooped up:

I've been reading a lot of facebook updates lately of people complaining about the weather. Don't worry friendly faces- do like J- when I start to worry of the weather I just look off my porch and see 7 chickens toughing it out with no problem.

Chicken literature-- read it-- states that when a chicken becomes stressed out or unhappy they often stop laying eggs. Our chickens are surrounded by a foot of snow and living in arctic conditions, but still hook me up with breakfast daily. They aren't stressed out. They aren't whining about how much better summertime is and how depressed all the cold weather makes them. They don't even have thumbs to knit warm mittens and hats with. They are out there fluffing up their feathers and working as a team to conquer the cold. I love it. Right there, I am already warmer just thinking about it.

They even boycotted the heat lamp we turned on in their coop. We flicked it on when the weather was real cold- towards the beginning of December, but the chickens stopped going inside at night when it was on. "what, Jon, you think we are a bunch of toucans? We like the dark for our beauty sleep." It really is something.

Chickens are commonly thought of as whimps. I am here to tell you, that's a bunch of bullsquash. They are out there even when the squirrels and Texans, surrounded by nuts, are avoiding the cold. The only place for them to escape the elements is a little shack made of some plywood and tin. They aren't migrating, they aren't putting on smart-wool, they aren't even putting vaseline on their combs (except the one time Nogeeshik and I did do that as we were scared they were getting frostbitten). Every time I eat an egg, whether it be scrambled, poached, fried or in a tuna and pickle and egg sandwich, I think to myself, "Jon- why are you so soft- where is your hard shell surrounding the gelatinous goop you think is a man! Get naked and run through the snow right now and make a snow angel mooning the heavens!" Every time, I just sit down and eat my egg in front of a basketball game.

Kudos to the chickens... Let us raise our mugs of hot cocoa and toast the hen, for they know not what it is to complain about the weather, they only know what it is to eat, shit, and lay eggs.