So I got a new rooster...

We had a massacre at Woodhill a few weeks ago. During the day while everyone was at work, something (we are presuming dogs) broke into the chicken pen and killed 16 of my chickens. My three roosters were also killed while defending their girls. Each one of my roos was raised by me from chickhood. It was devastating to say the least. The roo pictured here was my favorite. He was the boss. He had the classic loud cock-a-freaking doodle doo and announced every morning at 5:10am on the dot. No oversleeping with him around.
To my surprise, I missed that. I missed hearing him in the morning. I missed watching his antics as he strutted around the pen with his hens. So I went on the hunt for a new roo. I found one just the next town over. I really had mixed feelings about getting another rooster, but I knew the girls missed having one around too. The new roo is quite the handsome guy. He's an Easter Egger roo, mostly white but with black and gold hackle and saddle feathers and an irridescent black tail. I'll update with pictures when I have time. Hopefully in time he'll step up and fill the place of my beloved Charlie.

Morning musings....

I am sitting here at my desk after a 27 hour shift that involved working a snowstorm and I am very tired. Now don't get me wrong, I get it. I live in New England, and winters...well, they're winters. Cold. Snow. Ice. You get the drift. Things are made more difficult by the face that I live on a farm. Not a huge one, but it's big enough. I love living on a farm and the things that go along with it. I have two horses. Seventeen chickens. Nine ducks. Five dogs. One barn cat. I love that fact that I can saddle up and go for a ride whenever I want. If I feel like having an omlette for breakfast, I go out to the garden and see what veggies are ready and go to the coop and grab some eggs. I sit on my back deck and eat my omlette with my morning coffee and listen to the sounds of my farm.

But when old man winter rolls around my enthusiasm wanes. Things are harder on the farm in the winter. Frozen water buckets. The stalls and the pens all get nastier just a little quicker. The peeps are not winter girls. They stand in the coop doorway and look at the sea of white stuff before them and make a quick retreat back to the safety and warmth of their house. The snow just isn't for them. Mucking stalls is made more difficult too. Frozen poo. Pushing wheelbarrows through the snow to the manure pile. Ugh. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. Bring on Spring.