Thursday, April 16, 2015

This Ain't My First Rodeo

Cliche' warning.
This Ain't My First Rodeo simply means this isn't the first time I've done this.
I can't find its origin, but I suspect it came about quickly after rodeos became a thing.

Moving on.

My hens have moved their "outside the coop" nest yet again.
They do it every couple weeks, whether I like it or not.
In case you're wondering--I do NOT like it.

I found this little hiding place deep, deep in an evil Pampas grass.
Pampas grass loves nothing better than to slice your bare arms and hands wide open.
Not so much the chickens, I guess.

This nest of eggs all went to the trash.  
Again, no telling how long they'd been there.
A couple were broken and the whole mess was covered in fire ants.

Do you see this naughty hen? 
Hidden in the shadows,
Deep in one of my garden planters?
Believe it or not, I would be thrilled if the girls laid here.
It's right on the back porch!
Until then, the hunt is on for the newest nesting area.
They've moved it again.
Crossing my fingers I don't run into any sleeping rattlesnakes in the hunt.


  1. Those hens and their stashing of their treasures gives "egg hunt" a whole new meaning. When I was a very small child I got the chore of crawling into small, dark, buggy places to haul out eggs before they did the things rotten eggs do in summer heat. If I got them out whole we'd toss them into a field to see if they'd explode or into the canal to watch them float away.

  2. Those sneaky hens. When I visit my son's house I always help gather eggs. I hate sticking my hands into cracks and dark places as I'm afraid of what might be lurking in there. Too bad you can't train your hens to nest in your planter. Now if only the eggs were colored that would help. Have a great weekend.