Winnie, Blair and Ethan decided they needed a short break in November and they flew the coop.  Well, actually they took an airplane.  So they left me (Aunt HaHa) along with Winnie's grandparents at the farm to tend the animals, collect the eggs and so on.

By November it gets pretty cold in the Hudson Valley--so cold that we had our first snow fall.  Even without the snow, colder temperatures necessitate certain changes on the farm.  For instance the water in the barn needs to be turned off so that the pipes don't freeze, the water cans for the chickens need to be kept warm on heating plates especially at night so that their water doesn't freeze and the lights have to be kept on in the coop during the night so that the chickens don't freeze.  Turning the water off in the barn means long walks between the coop and the house with heavy water cans.  50 chickens translates into more than a few trips each day.  The bright side is that this translates into a lot of good exercise, but also a lot of work.   My generation is totally unaccustomed to this kind of work.  Sitting in an office 10 hours a day hunched over a computer, attending endless meetings and being glued to a phone is not hard work.  And exercise often means working in a gym or running on polluted streets.  Luckily, I am up between 5 a.m. and 6 a.m. regardless of where I am and that internal clock serves me well on the farm.

At that hour the chickens are more than ready to bust out, but the dogs, cats and rabbit are fed first.  The water cans that were brought down the night before are cleaned and filled with water and the sink then sanitized.  Several cans are filled and brought up the hill to the coop.  It's a little hill.....except when you're carrying those cans.  The gate to the chicken run is opened as well as the door to the coop and the chickens and roosters literally come pouring out.  The few that are left need to be navigated as we exchange watering cans leaving a couple of cans inside and a couple outside.  Eggs are picked up later in the afternoon when all chickens are finally "free-ranging."  We also grab a few scoops of corn feed which are thrown outside of the coop for them to feast on.  I have to say that throwing the corn and watching the chickens feast is more than a little fun!

Now my dad lived on a farm when he was growing up and took to these tasks like a born farmer.  He even developed a special relationship with rooster Evil Parker.  Parker is some kind of rooster--no dummy.  He knew he hadn't seen my dad before and decided quickly that he was fair game.  He had already left a few black and blue marks on my legs and so he let me off the hook.  My dad knew to go into the chicken coop wearing a hat and carrying a big stick, but that didn't faze Parker one bit.  Wasting no time, he charged my dad and my dad charged back winning the round.  Parker walked away like okay no problem I know you're boss (wink, wink). 

We went away coming back in the early afternoon to collect the eggs.  Guess who was waiting for my dad?  My dad had put the morning's jousting out of his head, but that rooster never forgot.  Evil Parker snuck up on my dad, maneuvered around and charged him from the front.  I will leave it to your imagination you figure out where he aimed.  No kidding!!  My dad didn't know what to do first, protect himself or marvel at this bird's ingenuity.  We know who's boss.  And so does he.  My dad, however, had an opportunity to rebuild the relationship.  

As I mentioned, the Valley had its first snow fall on our watch and as it turns out chickens don't like the snow.  We went up the morning it snowed to refresh the water and feed them and they were not budging from the coop.  We realized right away that they were very happy where they were and that they expected to be fed the corn inside the coop and you bet we complied.  Imagine be surrounded by 50 chickens and Evil Parker in a confined space.  My father sensed that they knew we were there to help them when we fed them inside.  From that day on Parker left my dad alone--this is the god's honest truth.

Needless to say, I have new found respect for the "intelligence" of  hens and roosters.