Christmas Cousins

The holidays are upon us and i find myself back at my childhood home, surrounded by family, a lovely local Christmas tree, plentiful food and plentiful critters. My mom's fur family consists of two geldings, 1 golden retriever and a handful of barn cats. We brought Pocket along with us to play with her cousins, but left behind her sister and my oldest pet: Holly the Christmas turtle.



I got Holly (who came with her name already in place, but seasonally appropriate) for Christmas the year before i went to college. (For those of you counting or guessing: i've had Holly for 12 years, eep!) She's travelled with me to my dorm room, to several apartments, to warm and sunny (and then cold and air conditioned) Texas and now up to Philomath. She loves the damp and temperate Willamette valley best, but she spent many years living down here in the dry of southern Oregon with her biggest fan, my daddy #2 while i was away at graduate school.



Holly loves Christmas! Something about the glittering lights and their warmth, mountains of presents to scale and ribbons to wear always gets her to show up out of the woodwork. This year, she's safely back at home, sitting on her heating pad under the couch. She might be missed by her unlikely sister, but honestly: probably not.



Pocket was raised with this odd pet ruling our roost, and has always been a careful housemate, occasionally helping us find her when she's lost. Which is is often. A 6 inch turtle who roams freely in your house is often hidden, often in a discarded garment on the floor.

Holly knows what good is, and a warm corgi by the space heater is definitely good.

Happy holidays to you and all your kin: furry, scaley or even covered in human skin!

- Miranda, Pocket, Holly and the Husband

Sunday Chicken Musings/Humor

My chooks are spoiled, ridiculous girls.

Chickens are supposed to 'know' that it is bed time and amble back to their coop and roost. This activity is often so reliable that folks can install automatic doors that open and close with the beginning and ending of the day.

My girls?
Apparently they still think my husband and I are the head hens and need to be snuggled with. When the sun goes down our girls don't head for their coop, they huddle around the back porch: "Chickens in the house?"

When they were wee chicks we would often put them to sleep on our tummies while we sat on the couch. I guess they still think that's the place to be.

No, girls. That porch chair is not your roost.

Olive, our wild little Wyandotte who's life started out in a farmyard, is the only one with any sense. But as she's the bottom of the pecking order, nobody listens to her and Andy has to lead them into their proper resting place.

Do you raise chickens? Do they have any ridiculous antics you'd like to share?