Brrrrrr . . . .

Ok, so it's not THAT cold, but to my little personal thermometer it is too cold. Tonight I had to go out and lock up the chickens for the night. I had to layer on so many clothes before heading out that even my own dog (who stood there and watched me apply the layers) was spooked at the sight of me. (duh!) Even with my Michelan Man suit it was cold enough out there to encourage me to make it a slow jog. Slow jogs in the dark, over uneven surfaces with a dog running interference is simply a bad, bad plan. I did, however, manage to avoid the lone brick my son tossed off of the top of the tree fort today.

What I really want to know is why these chickens can't figure out how to lock themselves up safely at night. They have figured out how to remove all of our styrofoam insulator blocks from the crawlspace vents. They have figured out how to help themselves to the cat food stash in the garage. They have figured out how to break open the straw in the barn and build a nest. Yet, they can't seem to provide for their own basic safety. . . . go figure. Bird brains!