Life has been busy, as usual. On Sunday, we went to the beach for Jason’s birthday. Little Dude has decided to become a fish in the past few weeks and works on his sweet, swimming skills. Or skillz, if you prefer.
He thinks he is swimming, but he is basically doing belly flops and then giving his mother a heart attack when it takes him a bit of time to resurface.
He “swam” for a long time yesterday. After the party, we stopped for ice cream on the way home.
Because we feel having an ice cream cone right after eating birthday cake isn’t excessive at all.
Here is Little Dude, enjoying his frosty treat at 5:30pm.
And here is Little Dude around 6pm.
When we got home, we tried to wake him up, but to no avail.
Somehow he ended up in the middle of the living room floor while we went about unloading the car and putting things away. Finally, I gave up and took him to bed, even though I was worried he would be up and ready to party soon.
Not so! He slept until 8:15am.
Yesterday, I lost my marbles and decided to make and can two batches of strawberry jam, fix one batch of runny blackberry freezer jam from last year, and pressure can 4 quarts of green beans.
Did you know you can fix runny jam? It’s true. Click here if you don’t believe me.
By the end of the day, my back was killing me.
Sweet Pea asked me why I don’t just buy jam. I am thinking she is my most brilliant child.
***
Alright.
I have been getting lots of questions regarding the private and personal lives of chickens. And since I am clearly the expert on all things farm and ranch-y, I thought I would give you a bit of a chicken tutorial.
You are so welcome.
*Warning*
This post might need to, *ahem*, be flagged for adult content. Consider yourselves warned.
Chickens.
Chickens is the umbrella term for all the fowl that are currently residing at my property.
A chick is a baby.
A pullet is like a teenager. Maybe? What do I know?
A hen is a female chicken.
A rooster is a male chicken.
If you are one of my boys, you call the male the “Daddy Woo-Ster” and think all the big eggs are laid by him.
But don’t listen to my boys.
They live in their own worlds and pinch each other in compromising places when they are excited.
Roosters don’t lay eggs! I repeat. Roosters do not lay eggs.
Now. I have heard some confusion on the whole egg sitch. So allow me, your farm and ranch expert, to shed light on this mystery.
I have gotten a few questions about the mysterious ways of the poultry. One person thought that hens only laid eggs if the rooster had, *ahem*, visited them.
False.
Another asked if the hens laid eggs and the rooster went around somehow “sprinkle-fertilizing” the eggs.
False.
The hens lay eggs no matter what, if they are the right age and all that nonsense.
If you have a rooster, there is a good change your eggs are fertilized. The “Daddy Woo-Ster” struts his stuff around the chicken yard and acts like The Ladies Man. He, *ahem* “visits” the ladies as he pleases. Then the hens lay an egg every day or every other day.
If the egg is gathered right away, it is just an egg.
Imagine that.
If the egg is kept warm under the hen’s feathered hiney for about three weeks, it magically turns into a chick.
If you do not have a Daddy Woo-Ster, you would still get eggs, they would just never turn into baby chicks, no matter how long they sat under the feathered hiney.
And if you are a hen who stops laying eggs, you must fear for your life.
You might find yourself in one of Teller’s Special Cans of Mystery Meat.
And lest any of you are confused, there is NO WAY I am ever going to be able to eat the canned chicken.
Nope, nope, nope.
This concludes today’s edition of:
Life Lessons by Teller
I hope you are all a bit wiser.
***
On a completely unrelated note, this is what Handsome Dude asked me the other day:
HD: Mom? Can you make me a turkey sammich for wunch?
(That would be turkey sandwich for lunch, for those who don’t speak HD)
Me: Sure.
HD: But can I have a turkey sammich without the turkey?
Me: What?
HD: I NOT LIKE TURKEY!
Me: Dude. What do you want on your sandwich?
HD: Bread. White stuff. And Trees.
Allow me to translate, dear readers.
The boy wanted bread, mayo, and cheese.
This is why I drink coffee.
Later, dudes.
We had chickens when we lived in Uganda, and they taught my boys some amazing life (read: sex) lessons. I think I’m going to have to do a chicken post soon. You’ve inspired me. : )
The canned chicken pictures are disturbing. Can’t you, like, make chicken soup or something, and then freeze or can that? Disguise it somehow?
Thank you for not including any farm-book sketches of the chicken…erm…UNITS.
Blimey – I’d be drinking something stronger than just coffee after a convo like that ….
Hahaha! Funny stuff! You are the Chicken Whisperer and the Chicken Professor combined.
And that’s no yolk.
Tee hee hee, this I think deserves a C.O.W.!
“That’s no yolk” … you crack me up Melissa K! 😉
I scrolled very fast past that canned chicken picture, I cant go through that again lol. Still shudder when I think of that picture lol. Turkey sandwich with no turkey lol.
So if you only want eggs to eat, then you wouldn’t need a rooster correct? And that canned chicken should have a big x across the picture!
I laughed out loud reading this post. Your boys are awesome 🙂 That part about the Daddy Wooster laying the big eggs cracked me up 🙂
Oh, and *what* do you plan to do with that canned chicken??? lol
i do speak little dude as i have one of my own, he is sooooooooo naughty but soooooo cute
OMG. I wish that canned chicken picture would disappear. I think you like tormenting us with it. I can sort of tell now when it is coming and I start scrolling fast. Ha.
Well said Katherine. Well said.
I might have to put an end to reading your blog if the canned chicken is going to appear occasionally. It’s freakin me out, man…
I may have to put an end to reading your blog if that photo of the canned chicken is going to appear occasionally. It’s freakin me out, man…
Every once in a while I figure I should comment just so you know I really do read your blog – if only to keep up with “life on the farm”. I love reading it!! However, I am having some trouble relating to all the icky feelings/comments the picture of your canned chicken inspires. It just looks like stewed chicken taken off the bone and put in jars, to me. What am I missing here?? 🙂
I not like the canned chicken pictures either, it gives me the pee pee shivers!
Your Dudes are too cute, Wooooooooosters!!!!
So… canned chicken as Christmas presents?
i continue to crack up over how upset some of your readers are about that canned chicken – I’m telling you, you will never have such tender chicken for pot pies, chicken and noodles, any casserole that calls for chicken. Creamed chicken over biscuits, chicken and vegetable soup, shredded and seasoned with taco seasonings and then served with tortillas and all the fixings, i could go on and on but YOU ARE GOING TO LOVE that chicken when you finally try it! Please keep writing, you do my heart good!
I love HD. I think I have his long lost twin over here. And I love your writing!
I love HD. I think I have his long lost twin over here. And I love your writing!
“feathered hiney” ~snicker snicker~
Poor little dude, eating ice cream is massively hard work.