Well, we spent the entire first day of spring break making a chicken moat, and I was cocky and full of hubris, thinking that the chickens' tyranny was over. I was wrong. They can all get out because chickens are the worst, most aggravating animal in the entire world. They are breaking out in groups of twos and threes, and soon there's going to be a mass exodus. You'd think that animals so stupid as to not figure out that we don't
like poop on our patio would not feel the sting of confinement so
keenly. I'm not going to put up with it. I'll clip their wings if I have to, or put up poultry netting, but I can no longer allow them to bully us with their bowel movements. I hate how their poop is so smeary. In the pantheon of domesticated poop, dog is the grossest, but chicken is like unto it. I don't know, cat poop is pretty gross, I guess. It's a fact of life: anything that eats meat has disgusting poop. I don't even mind cow and horse poop; they almost smell good to me compared to those other kinds.
John called me on the way home from work the other day and asked if I wanted to get rabbits. I was like, "Um, have we met? They suck." But one thing led to another and now we have four rabbits. I was very festive and created a treasure hunt for the children to find them at our Magic Neighbors' house, where we had hidden them to avoid pre-Easter detection. We have twenty-two animals now, which I've never sat down and thought about before, and I'm starting to feel just a little bit like a hoarder. And it's possible (though unlikely) for us to have as many as twenty or more goat babies this year.
Sometimes I feel bad that our yard is starting to look like Ligertown. I think we've done some good things to the (upstairs of the) house, but it really does look like a barnyard outside. And the basement still looks like a war-torn pre-industrial country. I wonder if Ruth is looking down from heaven and judging us for ruining her property. Probably not. She's probably unconcerned with material possessions nowadays.