My Mom told me the other day that I needed to get a life. She thinks I've been spending too much time with my chickens. I think she's probably right. But I do have a life, it just doesn't make for interesting reading. I mean really, would you rather read about laundry, housekeeping and homeschooling or about Broody Betty?
I thought so.
You see, in order to get the hens to know where to lay an egg you're supposed to put a fake egg in the nest. That makes their tiny brain say "Oh, lookey there, I want to lay my egg next to that one." And it works fabulously. A little too fabulously. Now Broody Betty won't get off the nest. It seems she thinks that since all the other eggs go missing and this is the only one that stays she'd better get busy and hatch it. Problem is, she's trying to hatch a golf ball.
A golf ball with Chase's name on it no doubt. I don't know who Chase is but I know he's missing one of his balls.