Still Cold, Still Whining About It

Yep. Its still cold. And we are all still whining about it. What is it about complaining that makes us feel better? Ok, maybe it doesn't make you better, but it sure does me.

Lately I can imagine myself going outside and yelling at the cold and snow, but I resist because I am sure the neighbors would have me committed. Last week when we had a few days in the 40's we were all jumping with joy at the ability to walk outside and not nearly fall on our rears because of the perpetual ice. Man, that was AWESOME!

Today, we are back in the single digits to maybe teens, the chickens are shut in again until at least tomorrow, and the dog is giving me the "You want me to seriously go outside? Are you insane?" look every time I grab the leash.

It is supposed to get up to the mid 30's on Saturday, so I will be outside cleaning the coop and making the girls nice and comfy for the next round of awfulness, due in on Sunday morning with many inches of snow and unrelenting cold.

Keep warm people. Good luck. 


Tiny Gardener-1, Possum-0

Yesterday, I had my dad and sister over for lunch and Husband was also home for the day. So, as we were enjoying our homemade pasta, Husband ran outside because he heard a ruckus in the chicken coop. He came back in and said, we have a possum!

So I flew out of my chair, ran outside in my slippers, yelled at the thing, clapped my hands loud, and what did the possum do? Stared at me. The thing just sat on the fence and stared at me. So Husband ran across the street to get the neighbors pellet gun and the possum and I continued our staring contest. 

Husband got back, ran upstairs in the house to get a better angle on the overgrown rat, and shot him. Well OK. He missed the first time, then hit the thing in the butt. Did the possum even get scared? Nope. He just hung out and lurked slowly (actually, he looked drunk or drugged or something) across the fence until he reach the rain barrels. Then Husband got him in the neck, and s-l-o-w-l-y (I am really talking slow motion here) fell from the fence and died. You really should know that the whole time I was perched ready to go with my garden digger to stab the thing and defend my chickens. Just so you have a good humorous visual of where I was during the encounter. 

So anyways, after he fell, Husband came outside, went around the garage and gave him one more shot just to make sure the possum wasn't, well, playing possum. So THEN we had to dispose of the thing. GROSS. Did I mention that he fell into like, 3 feet of snow? So yeah, I was the one who had to dig him out, and get him disposed of. 

So moral of the story? Possums are weird and huge and scary and gross and not completely nocturnal apparently, and they will eat your chickens. We didn't lose any yesterday, and now we have a pellet gun of our very own so we will be prepared. 

Just as a side note, I really think there was something wrong with this possum. The way he was moving, or not moving, was really alarming. If I were ambitious enough, I would take him somewhere and have him tested, but I'm not. But if you are one of those who will get pissed that we defended our chickens, then please don't comment. But I really think this guy had to go, not just for the chickens sake, but possibly his own.