Sweet Freedom

Every morning at quarter to seven, I trudge up to the pasture in my pajamas and robe to emancipate the animals.

First, I open the chicken hatch and the chickens come running out . . .

Wait a minute . . .

HAHAHAHAHA! Yes, this is totally staged. This shot was taken before we put the chickens in their coop. Mia was sniffing around inside, so we called her name at the chicken hatch, and of course she tried to come through the opening to get to us. Because she loves us. And we had called her to come, so she was trying to come.

We're evil.

ANYWAY.


So I open the chicken hatch. The chickens are usually hanging out by the hatch, waiting to be released. They rush out as soon as I step away from the hatch, ready to scratch in the dirt and eat insects. This is what passes for excitement in a chicken's world.

Don't eat all the good insects before I get there, guys.

The chicken hatch opens into the ram's pasture. This is separate from the ewes' pasture. The dogs sleep in the ewes' pasture at night. So after I close and latch the gate to the ram's pasture, I open the gate to the ewe pasture to release the hounds.

They race out, whirling and biting each other's faces . . .

Okay, so they're actually biting at a toy.

Then they take off chasing each other down the lane like racehorses in the home stretch. You'd think they were in cramped crates all night, instead of lounging about on a full fenced-in acre, where they could run about all night. Instead they camp out down by the gate (when they're not barking their heads off in the far corner by the woods), waiting for release in the morning. And as soon as they're released, they start racing around like idiots. Sometimes, when the grass is wet, they go skidding sideways into the forsythia bushes. It's very amusing.

Okay, so maybe that's not amusing to anyone but me. But it's better than tofu, right?