Raising children is like walking barefoot at night without a flashlight through the chickenyard



Fancy on the side yard swing

Okay, I just love that saying--not that I would walk barefoot through a chickenyard at night. Go ahead, paint it on a plaque, embroider it on a sampler, write it in frosting on a big pizza-sized cookie. (picture is a rerun since my camera batteries are low)

Location, location, location 
Lately, I have been navigating the yard with an eye to the ground in order to avoid "gifts" from the hens. Rain washes it away, but this six days of dry weather is doing nothing for clearing my yard of poop. Why do they seem to love leaving squishy gifts right on the path I have worn in the St. Augustine grass in my yard? Poop on a weed over near the fence! Of course, the lawn is nice and crunchy this time of the year, not lush at all.

New-found perch
They hang out on the porch more lately. Fancy decided the porch railing is closer to the doorknob. She knows that is the key to getting in the house. No, I lied about that. Fancy just wants closer to me. Besides, the knob sticks right out, looking like a good perch, yet unexplored.

Car insurance
I went to visit the friend of a friend who had chickens and was going to share supplies with me. I needed chicken wire. She donated a huge roll to me. Her car was in a "stall" that was completely encased in chicken wire. She had obviously used the supports to her building to nail the chicken wire. I was puzzled. "Why do you have your car enclosed with chicken wire?" It seemed the chickens like to play, climb, and just hang out in the bed of the truck, the top of the cab, and any part they could manage a foothold. "So they will not cover it in chickens**t."

Children?
No, this is not about rearing children at all. I just wanted to share that little saying with you. True? Right?

Your turn

If you have chickens, raise your hand. Must you navigate around poop in the yard or on the porch? Do you handle this with tolerance and good humor?