Oops

Well, I guess I planted my chickens to early this year.

Last night it got below freezing and we had to move the chics inside.

To the bathtub.

After thinking about it a little, I now seem to remember that we usually get our chicks around Easter.

When is Easter anyway?

I need to check my calender.

The weather report last night that said it was going to get below freezing and possibly snow. Of course I didn't believe it, but at the same time I didn't want to find frozen chicken in the henhouse when I woke up this morning.

It was to late to set them up in the garage so we did what anyone would do and that was to set up a nursery in the bathtub.

Really, when you think about it, who doesn't like a warm tub on a cold night.

So I had a tub full of chickens and Bart the Border Collie who made it his job to secure the perimeter and make sure the chickens stayed in the tub all night long.

I don't think he slept a wink and if he did it was only with one eye closed, and he kept letting me know he was on the job by cold nosing my arm whenever it fell out from under the blankets.

I had to keep telling him they were supposed to be in there and that he needed to get some rest, but obviously there was a lack of understanding on his part and an unwillingness to to let the event go unsupervised.

The Beagle and Pooter on the other hand had no problems sleeping and of course the Baby Buddy could care less.

I'm sure he was out cold dreaming about herding the pig though an unfenced grassy meadow.

It's still cold enough that I think I'll keep the chics in another day or so.

I'm just wondering, do you think you could house train a chicken?

Well, the weather report was right (how often does that happen) and here's a picture of what was in store for us when we woke up this morning...

That's Wyatt and the Baby Buddy heading down to the pond hoping to find it had frozen over during the night. Before long all the dogs except Pooter joined them on their journey and they all came back soaking wet.

Trust me when I tell you that nothing wakes you up in the morning like the smell of three wet dogs.

Well, maybe the sound of chickens in the bathroom.