Chickens in the Yard

Our family lives in a cabin on a wooded hillside. During the last big wind storm, a tree on the hill above us fell and struck the roof of our home. Since that event, we evacuate whenever heavy winds are predicted. I have just returned home from an evacuation, and I'm constructing this post on the fly.

We have a neighbor with a big heart for animals. Locals bring unwanted chickens and ducks and, after some complaining, she takes them to raise. Oftentimes, when passing her house, I reflect on how my former friends in Atlanta--most of whom I've lost touch with--would react to a picture of roosting time on her front porch.



When the ditches flood, her ducks can be seen swimming up and down the roadside. I was too slow to catch them in the act, but here is a picture of them retreating, in their own good time, back home to the yard.



But the sight I consider most emblematic, is of the ladder she built for a disabled chicken, unable to fly. So it could roost like the others.



She shares eggs with our family, but never meat. Again, she isn't farming, but rather making a, ah, humanitarian effort. This account is published with her generous permission. Here's to you, Wanda. You're a fun and caring neighbor.