Things that probably don't happen at your house . . .

    
A few months ago my husband had the wonderful idea that we need to raise some chickens. We started with six; one for each family member. Until one day our dog, Zoe, a Cocker spaniel, killed one. I had repeatedly told my children that this was very likely going to happen since Zoe is by nature a "bird dog" and if we didn't watch them well, she would do what she was bred to do. About a month later, the remaining chicks had gotten bigger and uglier and began to wander the yard more, a neighborhood dog came through and wiped out three of them. The children weren't as devastated by this loss; they were mostly mad at the dog (who subsequently was found to be part of a "wild" dog gang that was terrorizing the town and someone may or may not have shot it and/or cursed it with heart worms - either way we no longer see Rebel). Since it was just the remaining two, and no one could recognize their own chick anymore, I got to rename them. They are now known at Martha and Vera. For a while they would meander around the yard as a couple, chasing bugs and spying through windows, but then one day Martha decided she wanted a baby (Que dramatic music). We noticed that Martha was spending an awful lot of time in the big bushes at the rear of the house and seemed to be acting peculiar. One day, while the husband and I were enjoying some "adult" time together, we heard the children screaming outside about how something was wrong with Martha and they just knew she was going to die. I did the mad dash to get dressed and went running outside to discover that nope she was not close to death but instead she was just laying eggs - which was, by far, the most exciting thing my children have apparently every experienced in their life. There was much fan fare and fighting about who would be the first to collect these most precious gifts. Apparently, Martha had been working hard on these eggs for a while and had decided that they held life within their hard shells. This is when I decided Martha was crazy. We do NOT have a rooster and there isn't a wandering neighborhood cock that could have helped Martha create life. We took her eggs away and yet she still sat on the nest. Weeks and Weeks past and she just sat on her nest. The kids grew concerned and would take food and water deep into the bush for her because they just knew she'd die. Vera, during this time, was living it up as a single chick, learning to fetch sticks with the kids, sleeping on the gravel drive way, and watching TV through the back window. This past weekend I was pretty fed up with Martha's need for babies and I discussed how I would "break" her of her need to sit on imaginary eggs. My plan was to just move her into the chicken cage and make her stay in there until she stopped thinking she had chicks - (ya know, lock the crazy in the nut house). Well, apparently, she heard me and decided to take measures into her own hands. I guess she realized that those imaginary eggs just weren't gonna hatch and as such she was pushed past the brink of sanity. Like any good dime store psycho heroine who has had her chance at children snatched away from her, Martha started living fast and loose. She started hanging with a rough crowd. Literally. Several times this week we have found her IN the dog cage. That's right folks, Martha has gone so crazy she intentionally jumps out of the figurative frying pan and straight into the fire. She wanders all around their 8'x8' cage, eating their food, pooping on their house, and they don't touch her. The dogs must know it's not smart to poke crazy and they give her a wide berth. We decided to let the dogs and chickens run free in the yard together for a bit of exercise. I threw a tennis ball for Zoe - Martha chased after it. Seriously! I can't make this stuff up. Vera thinks she's a Ninja and Martha thinks she's a dog. Cat II watches all this from the back deck and is not impressed. And the ducks are just happy being ducks.