So I decide that it would be a great idea to have a photo taken of me with the chickens for the Charleston Daily Mail story. My blog is called Chickens in the Road. I have chickens. I’ll just have a wee photo session with the chickens. I bring my handy helper with me to take pictures.
And there they are. My darling chickens. Eager to help me. Prepared to be useful!
I’ll just pick one up…..
Come here, little chickens…..
C’mon!!!
WHERE ARE YOU GOING???
Why don’t my chickens love me? Do I not feed them? Did I not turn their eggs every day for three weeks and hold them in my hand as they hatched?
Please come out…..
I’ll be nice……
I just want to see you. I won’t even try to pick you up.
Okay, the truth is, I want to pick you up.
You’re not going to hurt me with that sharp pointy thing, are you?
What?
I think this one is saying something.
I think he’s saying–
“Prepare to die.”
Stop that!!!
Okay, fine, now you are just insulting me.
I’m warning you. I’m getting mad.
Okay, really I’m just getting depressed and hopeless.
These chickens are giving me a complex.
I need Coco.
Coco is ADORABLE and she loves me and I’ll have no trouble picking her up. I’ll hug her and squeeze her and kiss her all over.
Except–where’d she go? She was here a minute ago.
Coco?
Where have you been?
AND WHAT IS THAT ALL OVER YOU?
COCO!!!
