Prince is an escape artist. Every morning around 6:15 the geese start squawking and when I arrive on the scene, I find Prince outside the goose run trying to get back in. I let the others out and they reunite and head to the puddle pond. This morning he also went out through the barnyard fence. At least the barnyard fence is big enough to walk back through when you get yelled at long enough. The fence of the goose run is reinforced at the bottom with chicken wire, for the most part. Every time I think I know how Prince gets out, I fix that area. The next morning he is out again. There is one more area I am going to attend to tonight. I hope this does it.
Eloise used to escape when she was really small as well. There is only so much I can do. The geese just need to keep a better watch.
Where are the pictures, I know many are asking. Well, the 2nd week of Fiber Camp started today and we have assigned documenting the week to our new assistant. She took several pictures today but now we aren't sure where the camera went to. It is around somewhere. When we uncover it, I promise many pictures will adorn this blog.
A very different group this week. Quieter for one thing. Many of them don't know each other but by day 3 or so they will be good friends. The chickens have been joining us at camp last week and this week. They are making new friends too.
Today, one of the campers had to leave at lunch time to go to an appointment. She went to the fiber shed to collect a few things and then came in to me to say a chicken was laying on its side right in the doorway and couldn't get up. I went to investigate. I walked around behind the hen and started walking toward her. She got up and walked away. The chickens play this trick all the time. They love to spread out in a really hot area, sometimes with one wing extended, and usually on their side. If you have not been tricked before and don't have chickens, you think they are dying from heat exposure or some other ailment.
Yesterday, I came back from town and saw the rooster and one of the hens over in Charlie"s field. I went to see why the chickens had crossed the road and shoo them back. Walking through the fringe between the road and field, I had my eyes on the chickens. Walking back through the fringe, I had my eyes on the poison ivy I had walked through with my bare legs and sandals. Then the two of them started walking down the road. I said, "good riddens" and headed home, to wash with soap and water. At dusk, all chickens were in the coop.
At least I don't have to fix fences to keep the chickens in; it wouldn't do any good. The sheep knock the top rail off its brackets when they want to get into the upper pasture (their favorite). Then they jump the bottom rail like horses over hurtles. I am glad sheep don't fly or walk through the perimeter fence and head to town.