See? See? A photo of my boy, Oatmeal Head! Pretending to be a hipster. He's not a chicken.
Lookit! It's Patches, the crazy dog, asking if she can eat chicken crap. I told her no. It dries out her skin.
Little Jimmy Dickens and Roger are NOT chickens. They're ducks, people. And they're as cute as can be. I'm pretty sure that Jimmy is an Aylesbury and Roger is a black Cayuga. Whatever the heck that means.
Flash, the shadow dog, thinks someone may be at the door. He's about to start barking. He won't stop. No chickens here.
Here's my boy, Poop Head (I forget what we call him here - Poop Head works - he's 14, after all), not holding a chicken while sitting in the living room. Don't believe me?
Okay. I lied. He was holding a chicken. While sitting in the living room. Poop Head is such a ... well, a poop head.
So as long as the chickens are out, here's Mary Ann. She's grown up a bit. Grabby, greedy pig that she is.
Not many people know this, but Mary Ann also likes to drive the family minivan. We don't let her drive very far, for insurance purposes.
My sugar Peep is full of feathers now and looking like the biggest hen in the yard. She's not really. Just quite fluffy. Like me. Yeah.
This is one of my favorite Christmas gifts, a painting of my Peep, done by Oatmeal Head's girlfriend, Owlie.
What can I say? Mary Ann, Ginger and Caramel take smoke breaks too.
Here's hoping you all had a very merry Christmas! Wishing you all a great 2012.
Until I write again ...