Am I A Real Urban Farmer Yet?

Let's see, I've crawled under a coop in my pajamas to drag out a chicken (Tweetie) who refused to go into the coop at bedtime and I've run out in a thunderstorm in jammies to shut the storm window on the coop.  I'm sending a trend in this whole "doing farm chores in my nightware" thing. 

Seriously, do other people who keep chickens do any of the morning chores in jammies?  I can't see getting fully dressed to do 'em, since I have to come right back in and put on my (office) work clothes.  I'm a regular fashion felony.  You should have seen me during the thunderstorm.  It was the first one for the kids since they moved into the coop and ever since we had the boys, I can't sleep during a storm.  At first it was because I knew a kid would be screaming any second.  Now that they're older, it's more like wake up, nobody's screaming, ok back to bed.  Except that morning.  First crack of thunder and I was out of bed, yelling "THE WINDOW TO THE COOP IS OPEN!"  Ok, it's a screen window but still.  I grabbed my purple raincoat, put on my green boots (see why the Fashion Police cry?) and went flying out the door.  The babies were awake but didn't seem scared when I closed the storm window.  They were fine; I fussed until the storm was over.

The chickens seem to be used to the coop by now and I'll usually have 6 of them in there already when I go in to lock it up for the night.  There are always 3 holdouts though - Tweetie, Forte and Buttercup the Silkie.  I can usually get Buttercup out from under the coop after a couple of minutes.  Forte and Tweetie have to be hauled out.  I should rent Tweetie out as a fan on hot days - she can kick up quite a breeze flapping her wings as I put her in the coop!

I started them on fresh greens the other day.  Right now dandelions are their favorite.  I usually pull a few handfuls before work and toss them in.  Buttercup acts like she's all that and a bag of chips as she hauls around a pile of greens bigger than she is but by the time I get home all the greens are gone. 

The cats are used to the chickens, finally.  Fiona and Rusty leave them alone for the most part, but I'll see them "patrol" around the perimeter of the fun and then go lie down and watch for a while.  Hershey likes to herd them in at bedtime but she's developing a nasty habit of trying to nip at any feathers close to the fence.  We keep an eye on her but it's still funny to watch this mini weenie dog act like a big old sheepdog. 

Yeah, like anything normal happens around here.