Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full.
All this talk of wringing and chopping is giving me BAD DREAMS. Tonight I am going to force myself to think happy thoughts about being broody, and a chick’s first peeps, and watching them crack open the eggshell, and having them snuggle up under your wings, and taking them out for their first look at the world, and watching them grow up to be fine handsome roosters, and wondering if they’ll get their heads WRUNG or CHOPPED OFF.
Frazzled feathers! That was going fine until the last bit. Time to let it go, Ruby.
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