I left my best friend behind when I traded her and everything else in my life to be with my husband.
I thought there was nothing left in America for me, there is. When people ask when I'm going back I usually say, "Never, there's nothing there for me anymore." But there is, and she's more important to me than any family I've ever had. There are alot of things I wish I'd said and done and alot of things I wish I hadn't. Having no car really brings a strain when you're trying to move to a new country and I really stressed our friendship to the limits in the last month I was there. I'm really trying to drive now, Jarrad and I bought an automatic last week and I'm trying my best to get over my stupid fear. Whenever I call her she seems really distant, maybe she grew out of using the phone, maybe she grew out of me, I don't really know because I haven't spoken to her in months now. I have alot of nightmares about calling her or showing up back in Ohio and trying to track her down and it's hard. It's hard to make real friends in a new country. I'll always be different here, a little bit alienated from everyone else, need just a little bit more zest to socialize with people.
So my karma for leaving her behind is me working at the packing shed, where I make easy friends with back packers who leave in 2-3 months time. Lisa, the German girl who was staying here moved out last week and it's been a bit rough adjusting to her sudden loss. No longer can I 'Google der Vogel' or 'Fick die Pflaume.' I can however, share this wonderful recipe she taught me, called 'drunk ass cupcakes.'
 |
| And Harry totally made me Kimchee and I love her. |
My methods of coping have been extreme and have driven my husband to the limits of his sanity. Every weekend is now spent shoveling gratuitous amounts of bird shit and recording the latest escapades of Crossie, Straighty, Blackie, Whitey, Big Red, Frizzle the frizzle, Star, Spangled, Penny, Oscar the Oosker, Raggedy Anne, Things 1 and 2, Baldy, Little Boy, Bearded Lady, Bitch and Runty. Jarrad has had enough of the birdy shenanigans. He is up to his neck in chickens. It all came to a head when he caught me trying to glue feathers to his ass at 3 AM this morning. No matter how loudly they crow, humans are not roosters.
 |
| My new favorite couple, Little Boy and Lady, sharing a meal. |
 |
| This is what True Love looks like. |
 |
| Star and Spangled, also known as Dumb and Dumber. Sure looking like cockerals :/ |
 |
| Penny, who has to deal with their shit, poor thing. |
 |
| Big Red, looking extremely magnificent. Them feet feathers. |
Sometimes things are not always right in Chickendom. I also have a flock of Araucanas but they are extremely raggedy looking at the moment so I'll post their pictures after they feather up a little bit more and I get rid of their scaly leg mites. Chickens are not always easy. The avian respiratory infection swept through our little flock and even though we went to the vet the very next day it still killed little Patches, who we buried under the lime tree that she used to dust bathe under.
We missed Patches for a night and found her the next day, as Red went looking for her and got stuck behind a gate but made a whole lot of racket. Jarrad found her by nearly tripping over her, as her eyes were completely swollen shut by the infection, she'd been so blinded that she couldn't find her way to food or water. When we picked her up she was light as anything. We settled her back into her cage where Blackie found her and they started to desperately communicate with chirps and whirs. Blackie showed Patches where to get food and water as we looked on and they slept together in a corner over night. In the morning I made the vet appointment and packed Patches into the carrier before noticing that Blackie had been quickly and heavily infected over night. Together they went to the vet. Together they lived in the carrier another day before Patches passed away. Blackie is the happiest and friendliest little chicken you've ever seen now. Her and Crossie run together with the main goal of stealing all the grapes and driving the naked necks out of their god damned minds.
Baldy is our other survivor, who at four or five weeks old stuck her head through the cage and scalped herself from head to neck so badly that you could count the vertebrae. We weren't sure if she'd survive but with love, betadine and Hydralite, has come through to make the most mischievous bird you've ever seen. Baldy belongs to none of our 4 flocks and prefers to roost in the tree outside our kitchen window at night, about 6 meters off the ground, the little shit. Baldy has even coerced Frizzle into roosting with her, though Frizzle only gets 3 meters before getting caught by the human giants and rammed back into the silkie cage, thought the lady doth protest very loudly.
 |
| Blackie, our little fighter. Survived an upper respiratory infection. Would like to know what that camera is please. |
 |
| RIP Patches. |
 |
| Treating the chickens for scaly leg. Ew, Vaseline. |
 |
| Frizzle and Baldy. |
But chickens are not always sad, where there is death and pain there will also be found life and joy. See below for references.
 |
| Crossie dust bathing with Whitey and Straighty. |
 |
| Little Boy, waiting at the door for expected treats. Knock-knock. |
 |
| Fuck Cirque du Soleil. |
Last but not least I'd like to give a congratulations to
Emily who made 40$ on this beautiful splash cockeral at the Brunswick poultry auction. Totally jealous but I'm up to my neck in chickens now. Anyways I got Frizzle, Penny, Star, Spangled and Lady from the auction. That's enough birdys!
 |
| Bring moar bridys. |
Also go see
Janine's blog because
Henrietta had babies! That would be Wyandotte, Orpington, Silkie crosses o.-
Alsoly alsoed; if anyone cares, Lady is a bearded splash araucana crossed with silkie, as you can see by her circus freak 5 toes :)
