Chickens don't ride motorcycles!

Since all the snow melted, the chickens have again taken to foraging the yard and beyond. They stay within the boundaries of the yard until they get bored, then they hop the gate like men wanted (with much less grace than Steve McQueen) and waddle across the driveway to the woods to look as close as possible to wild fowl. It's almost convincing. But I think they do it mostly to haggle the kind-of-neighbor's new chickens. The poor things are kept in a dog pen all day and their beaks are cut in half so they can't peck each other. It's actually depressing, not really that funny. Chickens consider no clemency.



Also good news: I started a savings account today for the first time in six years. Horray!