The Midlife Farmwife

I love to follow other peoples blogs. Some more than others. I especially love this one http://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/   Although I ask you please do not follow or comment on his blog as this fellow is well known for stealing all the comments from all the followers in the land. He is one big comment hog. I mean he says "Rainy today in the village" and he gets 100 comments. (Happy Birthday anyway John Gray)

Anyway, on his blog I don't want you to see, he has this great pic of a chicken staring right at you. I have been wanting to recreate that shot with our own poultry for awhile. Today I got down on the ground and gave it my best attempt.

Yeah they got the nice feather thing going. My hair would look good too
if all I had to do all day was eat bugs and worms.

Now keep in mind, I am not a chicken chic. I do not normally attach myself to birds. I find them dull and very dull. I appreciate them for the eggs they produce and the chicken caccitore I have consumed. I do not name them. Well except for this little Banty rooster a friend gave us last week, maybe I'm a little attached to him but it doesn't count as he's not a real rooster.

Anyway, I'm on the ground and they start to notice me a little. Suddenly I have a flashback to 1993 the year Keith and I were married. I ventured into the barn after work probably still in my 2 piece suit with peplum skirt no doubt, to say hello.  He was milking a goat and I see the cutest little fluffy yellow baby chick on the ground next to him. I scoop it up and before I can say Kentucky Fry this, I am attacked by a flurry of white feathers. Some crazed chicken is going for my head ! I pull the chick closer to me to protect it and the hen intensifies her attack. Keith is no help as he has now fallen off the milking stand as he rolls with laughter. He's trying to say "put the chick down" but he's laughing so hard he can't speak. Finally this Chicago raised bride figures out the nutso hen just wants her chick back. I put it down. I may not be very smart but at least I'm slow.

Anyway, back to the present. I am getting nervous. I'm vulnerable down here. They seem to sense this. They begin to move in.




Face to face with Birdzilla, I begin to wish I had fed them more corn and less
of the organic raw milk.

I hunker down behind my camera and try to look less threatening. I make nary a sound unless you count the minor incontinence I am experiencing. I always lose a little control when I sense my eyeballs are soon to be pecked upon. I wait them out. They send in backup chicks.

"To me she looks harmless. Lazy and
unmotivated, but harmless.
What do you think Esmerelda ?"

Still unpecked, I decide to go even closer. I came for an awesome chickie shot and I am going to get it. I zoom in. What happens ? Some Rooster Boy decides to get all cocky with me.



Get back girls, Midlife Farmwife is all mine.

I reach for my cell phone, I'm not above calling for help. After all these bird things can get out of control so quickly. One minute you are admiring a couple of lovebirds in a cage chatting it up with a hottie named Mitch and the next minute the freaky things are dive bombing you at the filling station and your whole backwards town goes up in flames. But before I can flip open my cheap Tracfone to see I am out of minutes AGAIN, Mr. all full of himself takes a sharp right and strikes a pose. Vogue.

Anyway, I never got the shot I wanted, but I did bond just a little with the egg squaters. Still, I'm not naming them and you can't make me.

But if I was...it would be Marsha, Jan and Cindy. The blond in front would of course be Marsha.
Marsha, Marsha, Marsha.