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Homeland Security





My husband has never been much of one for doing things halfway. If I want eggs for breakfast, I get a potato/tortilla/peperjack cheese frittata of transcendent flavor and texture. If I need him to hang a picture, he busts out the leveler, changes the hook in the back, and squares it off expertly. Birthday and holiday gifts involve a great deal of thought and attention, for myself and those around him. It’s no surprise then that when we decided to shore up the coop after losing Uno, he would rock it like no other. 

Over the course of several days, he has erected a laser-like kaleidoscope of colored rope over the top of the run. The idea is that a predator bird would have to be some sort of aviary gymnast to deftly maneuver through such an obstacle course (a la ‘The Night Fox’ in Ocean’s 12-I really, really love that song). It’s not completely finished, as I’ve yet to fulfill my part, hanging up lots of cd’s from the colored ropes to even further confuse our aerial friends (Yes, “friends,” not foes. I’ve decided not to harbor any ill will towards the hawk/owl/what-have-you; it was cold and hungry and my chickens were out past sunset and it went for it, as is it’s nature). However, preliminary reports from the remaining flock (we’re 4 strong now) are good, with lots of confident pecking, striding, preening, and clucking observed. 

Our own Fort Knox, done up poultry-style. Thanks for bringing it, G. You’re a keeper. 

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