Party in the Coop!

I thanked my almost-seventeen-year-old son first thing this morning. After all, there aren't many young men who would offer their help to a frantic mother at four in the morning.

While in a deep sleep and under the influence of two Tylenol PM to help me catch up on my sleep the new puppy deprived me of, I awoke at approximately 3:48 a.m. to the sound of extreme cackling. Dismissing it as the neighbors' geese, I tried to fall asleep and be thankful that the puppy had been sleeping for almost seven hours straight.

But soon, the cackling got too disturbing, and I leaned toward the window screen to see if I could determine what was going on. What happened after that was a blur, as I was still feeling groggy from the Tylenol. I put on my robe and ran into the kitchen to put on my boots (because it makes perfect sense to be out in the farmyard in the wee hours of the morning wearing a pink robe and Ariat Fatbabys!)

I noticed that my son never made it to his own bed and had apparently fallen asleep on the couch.  He woke up to his mother saying, "Something's killing the chickens! I wish I knew how to use a gun!"

Now, I would like you all to know that I usually don't assume the worst, and had a neighboring farmer not just told me a mink had killed six of his chickens, I wouldn't have assumed that anything was wrong with mine.

So, there stood my son, half asleep, and seeing how upset I was, he offered to go out with me to check on the chickens (no gun). I sprinted to the coop, remembering that I had left the windows open and pictured in my head a dozen chickens scattered in a bloody mess around the coop with one last hen squealing for her life. I flew open the gate, and my son aimed his flashlight through the coop window and said, "They're all fine, Mom."

Not quite trusting him, I opened the large door and peered inside, waiting for a raccoon to hiss at me and attack me with his little grubby paws. Instead, what I found was a bunch of chickens thinking it was daylight because I had forgotten to turn off the main light in the coop.

Basically, my chickens were partying.

Party animals!

"Geez, Mom! Here. Take the flashlight. This was stupid.  I'm going to bed," said my son.

"I'm sorry. I just thought..." But by the time I turned to look at him, he was already on his way back to slumber.

By 4:15, I was finally back under my own covers and ready to let the Tylenol finish its magic.

Then the puppy needed to be taken outside. (I'll be posting pictures of him soon.)

Too many animals? Maybe at times it can feel that way. But I wouldn't want it any different.

Sharon