Every day I clean out the crate that our little chicks are presently living in. They live inside the first 6 weeks of their lives and then it’s out to the hen yard!
To clean the crate I first fill a small bin with fresh pine shavings and then transfer each chickie into the bin. Then I change their water, clean out the feeder and scoop out the old shavings.
Tonight while transferring The Girls, I marveled at how big they have gotten! Their wings are filling in and many are getting tail feathers. My orange ones have huge feet and our yellow one practically flew out of my hand! I talked to The Girls, cooing comfort and praises as I lifted each one from the crate and then gently lowered them into the bin.
When I looked at the feeder I noticed a dry turd on top of it.
“Ew. Ladies! Can you really not find a better place to poo?” I scolded them. “I mean, really! In the dining area?!”
The feeder is a plastic tray with 28 holes in the lid for them to stick their heads into to get to the food. When I lifted the lid the turd dislodged. It catapulted from the feeder and nailed me right in the eye!
I screamed in horror and ran into the bathroom.
“Babe! What happened?” Man asked.
“Are you OK Mom?” asked Buddy.
“I got chicken poop in my eye!”
“Chicken poop? How?” querried Man.
I explained exactly how while I frantically removed my contacts and doused my eye with saline. Man and the boys laughed.
“It’s not funny,” I said indignantly. “I could get some sort of chicken poop infection and lose my eye!”
“Really?” Bug asked. “Mom…are you going to lose your eye?”
“You’re not going to lose an eye,” Man sighed.
“I very well could. Then everyone will call me The One Eyed Ninny and I’ll have to wear an eye patch.”
“Are you going to go to a doctor tomorrow?” Bug asked.
“We’ll see. If I wake up and it’s red, swollen, and oozing puss then I will see a doctor.”
“Puss! Oh my gosh!”
After many, many saline rinses I returned to finish my job of cleaning the crate.
“Do NOT poop on the feeder!” I scolded The Girls. I lifted each one from the bin and returned them to their clean crate. I held the one we call Easter up to eye level.
“Was it you?”
Easter turned her head away.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you. Don’t poop on the feeder!”
Man and I tucked the boys into bed and everyone said their prayers.
“Oh, I forgot something….” said Bug. “And Father God, please don’t let Mom get a chicken poop infection in her eye. Amen.”