Showing posts with label Donna Barr. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Donna Barr. Show all posts

Sunday, June 18, 2017

I love your store, but....

I know everybody up here reads Facebook. It's the rural telephone, email and Uber service. So I'll be sharing this there. 

So may I mention to some very nice people what they've done? I assume it's purely ignorance. We all know how a certain group believes #blacklivesmatter means "ONLY black lives matter," when, of course, any intelligent person knows it means "Black Lives Matter TOO." It doesn't mean other lives DON't matter. 

So here's the rub: I love the store that sponsors the truck in what looks like the stock car or demolition derby. But LoggerLivesMatter painted on the side of your truck? It means you think somebody is murdering loggers left and right, like POC, with no trial, as though just breathing makes them guilty and open for any cop or frightened gun owner (redundancy) to kill. And loggers are not. They're just NOT.

Using LoggerLivesMatter on the side of your truck is cruel and ignorant, and I  hope you folks at the nice store are NEITHER. But it's not a joke. It's not cute.

And we have so many black people up here, whom you normally do business with, and are NEVER rude to! How can you do this to them? Do you think they don't understand what that means, sitting in that yard day after day? This is Clallam Bay! I can almost understand you intend its use in Forks - which really does have to work on its inability to understand racial cruelty - but there are black kids walking by it DAILY.

You have a choice - you're either completely unaware of the state of terror our people of color live in, in this country, or you don't care, or you think only your lives matter, and it's a fan club you think you deserve to be in.

Really? Do you WANT to be the target of every racist and white supremacist with a gun? Do you want to be a legitimatized target of every cop who forgets he's a civil SERVANT, and the citizen of every race comes first, not him? 

I hope you'll not try to defend what you did, and simply paint the line off your truck. I'll say no more about it - although this post will stay in place, because the internet does not allow for cruelty to every disappear. No, I'm not posting a photo of your truck. You don't deserve to have that shared.

More and more of us up here are hard-headed intolerant Liberals, who will put up with no more cruelty to any form of life, especially when it's done for "fun" or "sport" or bully jokes.

(Local cultural note: many black people up here are also Makah, and proud of both heritages. It is not uncommon in the Pacific Northwest for Indians to celebrate both their New World and Old World Tribes. It's not a good idea to mess with the Tribe.)

(All the loggers have to fear is that a logging company pulled a scam on them, and the developers are on the way, but nobody forced them to sell their land to the company instead of the parks. At least if it had gone to the parks, the loggers' kids would be able to visit it in the future. 

Clallam Bay sold the land to the parks, when the houses are being threatened by the rising waters - there before our eyes - but their kids will be able to use those parks, and not have them locked into development. If the parks offer US money, we're not going to fight them - we'll take the good price, before the waters chew out the land, and leave us with a pittance. I always said I'd just sell to a Republican, but that would mean I'd never get to come back to these beaches.

A newspaper editor up here hates the parks because her grandfather sold his farm to them. She can still go to that park and enjoy it. He got the money - by his choice - and she'll always be able to visit that place and camp and go to the beach. 

The letters to the editors about trying to survive as loggers sound like the ones in the Everett Herald in the 1960's - before the developers gobbled up Everett, Mukilteo, and every part of a formerly small town-rural area. I've seen it happen. I can only assume you're happy it's happening, and hope to profit off it. My only recommendation is, if you love your kids - sell to the parks. Because otherwise your kids will have to move to Tacoma.)

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Earth Day 2017 - Cleanup and Hicksters

Earth Day Cleanup, Sappho, Washington, on the Olympic Peninsula's West End. Dan was the other half of the team, but the really good photo went to the Forks Forum.

I'll be working with Clallam Transit to get us all a dumpster! 

We gave a ride to a Neah Bay girl on the way down. When she found out that Clallam Transit was instituting a Port-Angeles to Bainbridge Ferry run - and was going to try to make it run all weekend - she was very happy. Bus riders have worked very hard, contacting all the local bus systems, to get this to happen. The fact that the new Transit Boss rides the Bus must have helped!

Now for some praise and pukes: the woman who VERY carefully laid out a pair of sweatpants and lined up tightly-wrapped baby diapers on top of them: good on you. You made an effort. You tried. With no other way to dispose of these items, you didn't dump the human waste into the port-a-potty or onto the ground. You must have realized the horrible health hazard, if you threw human waste where people could step in it. You placed the diapers near the port-a-potty, but behind it where your waste was easily accessible, but out of sight. That's how an adult acts.

Guy - and we know it was a guy - who must have pulled up his truck and dumped three heavy bags of YARD WASTE under the trees: You have a yard, you have a truck - and you are expecting the rest of the tax-papers to take care of what YOU can afford. You are lazy and selfish. That's how a child acts, waiting for mommy to pick up after him.

Now for the treats: we don't normally eat the the wonderful Hungry Bear, on Highway 101, near Sappho. Old folks can't eat luscious traditional diner food. But after two-and-a-half hours of unstinting work, in which we cleaned up everything we could haul out, we got to go this wonderful old-fashioned restaurant and eat whatever we wanted! Lordy, they even have old English-style "coffin" pastry pies - the kind that were originally meant for hard wagon travel. Finally - enough crust!

Very soon, we found the staff was almost jumping up-and-down in joy over the cleanup. We all got to talking about how either the county or transit MUST face our transient and homeless population - and by that, accept that citizen tax-payers must be part of that process, to get what we want, how we want it - and give access to garbage disposal. 

One staff member said she was so sick of hearing people complain, and doing nothing. I told her there is a growing group of people who are INVOLVED. We have science and women's and climate marches in Forks. And the population publicly SUPPORTS the protesters! No fake protest attacks out here! The atmosphere became joyous.

Seattle - whining about "homeless" garbage - the West End is going to shame you, if you don't look out! Note: Transit referred to homeless as "Our Homeless." Admitting our OWN people here are in trouble. Our officials get better every day! 

(Yes, we have the usual malfeasance and embezzling you get from short-sighted idiots who don't seem to realize it's a surveillance society - and WE're doing the surveillance - but we have far, far more decent people here, in and out of County uniform. Why else would we have this bus system, that is the envy of metropolitan areas? You can contact public servants and they are happy to SERVE - and they like to hear they've done well. Call up transit or county or the Sheriff's Department or the library and say how happy you are.

If there's one thing I know as an artist, the real food we all run on is pats on the head, the same as puppies. So make a puppy happy today, and see what happens.)

Now for the bad after the good: I would warn rural areas to be on the lookout for Hicksters - and yes, it's a word I made up and first used on Twitter to the Forks Forum, The Nip and the Washington Post. 

Hickster: Metropolitan right-wing person who travels to rural areas, assuming rural people are all right-wing. 

You see this movement among those practicing Logger Chic in cities. They don't seem to realize that grandpa practiced Cowboy Chic way back when - and for the same bad reasons. Remember playing Cowboys and Indians as a Kid? Today it would be Loggers and Every Living Thing.

At the Hungry Bear, a handful of bikers were back in the bar, quietly enjoying themselves (Bikers are cool. My brother-in-law was a biker. We get lots of nice bikers up here, from all sorts of cities. They're welcome, and enjoy themselves without problems. Their rigs are gorgeous!).

But then these bikers must have heard me telling the waitress about the Earth Day Cleanup - and how, if we couldn't get to the Science marches, we made our own event. That's all the waitress and I talked about for then (because we were hungry, and wanted to address the eye-boggling mile-high fish-n-chips-clam-strips, and turkey burger and too much coffee and - I'm so sorry I ordered it afterwards, but I'm happy I tried it - Moosetracks milkshake. Let's just say that somebody with my metabolic problems should stick to vanilla. And green tea and salad).

Anyway, this set off the Hicksters in the bar, and it sounded like Fox News back there. Because I was dizzy from too much sugar and had to go out into the parking lot for a breath of fresh drizzle, I saw at least one of 'em had Bellingham plates. The staff didn't say anything to them, because - they're the staff. They don't bug the customers (although if they want to get excited about something they LIKE, they'll talk). 

The hicksters started talking about protesters "burning stuff." They probably never got near a REAL protest in their lives. The Fakes who showed up at the WTO marches - and the corporate-owned news that fell for their act - are finally getting outed. But Fox and the Washington Post are all about ten years behind the times, so how would they know? (I bet they don't know the word "rant" is code for "shut up, bitch").

Then they started complaining about the people who didn't want the Navy using a rural area to run military exercises over. They used the word "growlers" about the jets. Now that's a Navy term. You think the Navy worries about any actual infantry combat vets out here with Battle Fatigue? Vets who can't even show up to Stand-Downs because the mere thought of the military makes them shake and cringe? (And I've seen it.) Why should a bunch of anchor clankers care about anybody outside THEIR uniformed fan club? They'd kill off every last marine mammal if they got to play with their toys.

(Dan's dad was at D-Day on a ship. NOT ONCE did he ever try to make out that he went through what was close to what the infantry faced. He saw some bad shit on the ship, but even then he wouldn't have sneered at the drafted grunts.)

Then the hicksters gave themselves away: I heard them talk about "building houses out here." I've been warning people of these guys for years. Everett and Mukilteo used to be like out here - until the logging interests simply sold everything to the developers. 

For years, somebody posted green-lettered signs basically saying nobody but loggers had families (well, what else does "working forests = working families" mean?). This was part of a campaign to stop the parks buying land for more parks - which is always an excellent investment for the future of the citizens, and an industry that can only grow, and can only fall apart if natural beauty is destroyed - tourism. Then the land was bought up by a company whose signage uses the same color green. You think an artist would miss that?

Now you have a choice, folks. You can sell what land you might have held onto to the parks - at a much lower rate - or to the developers. The logging company will be selling it. THEY're down to sticks and chipboard! I've seen this failure rate, before.

Out here, several houses are being bought and torn down by the parks, because climate change has raised the water levels so high those houses are in real danger. I live in fear of the logs and bulwark-stones being flung through the windows on a high-tide stormy night. I deeply hope nobody's in those houses when it happens. I'm so glad to hear they'll be getting out.

BUT - the parks is probably going to be paying a much lower price, now. The owners are the sort of folks who thought they'd actually bought beaches - back when we had some really nasty real estate companies that have been wiped out by the crash. They've learned better, but it must have been rough, paying that much for what was not the companies' right to sell. And now they'll have to take what they can get from the parks. That's sad for them, but good for the citizen tax-payers.

(We had a joke up here for friends who feared we'd never be able to sell our place if the water threatened it: "We'll just find a Republican." Denying Climate Change can be personally painful, and fewer people up here care to do that, when it's so in-your-face all the time. But I guess we'll always have hicksters, and their victims.)

Those few who think we want development to do what's done all over America: for the sake of a handful of ephemeral jobs, do you really want me to be able to say I saw you coming out of Wal-Mart and saw you get into a truck with a "Buy American" sticker? Been there, done that!

Do I need to say the hicksters were very vocally pleased about Mexican immigrants being shipped out? In a restaurant with a customer and staff base that had relatives and friends from all over? When four what looked like Middle Eastern guys came in and were put at a nice table by the window, the hicksters shut up. And got real polite. Score one for the decency of the Hungry Bear. Score zilch for racism.

I hope the hicksters saw the "We support LGBT rights" Gay Pride Poster by the bar when they went to pay their bill. It must have been shocking, after hickster city newspaper had told them they'd find their idiot buddies out in the sticks.

Just sent this message to Clallam Transit, Clallam Department of Health, Clallam Waste Management and all the County Commissioners: 

"Hi!

Talked to one of the Clallam Transit supervisors the other day. So Transit is aware of the Earth Day cleanup at the Sappho park-and-ride, carried out by me and my husband Dan.

I've attached a photo - it's a horror! Baby diapers, industrial filth, broken glass. A real - and dangerous mess. Think what would happen if ONE carrier of typhoid or cholera came through - especially a baby! The port-a-potty helps with the adult human waste, but does nothing for baby waste.

Somebody in local government - either one of you with the others' support, or all of you - needs to step up and realize we need a dumpster out here. I've talked to local folks, and they're for it. They know it's taxpayers getting a public service, and they want it.

Yes, there will be transients and our homeless using it - we know that - but where else are they supposed to throw the garbage? Let's not be like Seattle, blaming the helpless for their garbage when there is no place to put it.

There's no use fining people - they'll just haul their stuff 'way back into the woods. The solution has to be - getting the stuff OUT of there. And this pile is cumulative - if a dumpster is in place, it probably won't be bad under day-to-day use, for regular maintenance.

Work with us! We'll cooperate every way we can. You ARE our public servants, and we  value you all as such - and really excellent ones.

Donna Barr"

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Same Old Navy, Same Old Tricks

Welp, the Navy fan-boys - and everybody IS a fanboy, about something - want to play with their toys again. Can they be trusted? Probably not. Anybody with guns that big is up to no good. And they - and whatever navies they're playing "Battleship" with - blew their cred a long time ago. 

My email, followed by the one I got - and no whining about "secrecy" on the internet. We all know that ship has sailed.

Immediate action needed New Naval Weapons testing threats here in Northwest

 
 
9:05 AM
 
To: gtwahl@fs.fed.us
Hello, Mr. Wahl.

We need more time for a hearing. Democracy is about everybody's voices.

We might consider that, if the Navy is willing to - jiggle - the debate about the harm to ocean sea mammals, can they be trusted to care about terrestrial creatures - including humans? 

Donna Barr
 
 
10/22/14
 
 
Hello everyone:

Serious new threats here in the Northwest.   People in nearby Northwest cities are asking people to call (+1-360-956-2375) Mr. Greg Wahl, a Forest Service environmental coordinator , email is gtwahl@fs.fed.us .  Please ask for an extension beyond the October 31st  deadline for comments regarding the Warfare permit, so that people can have a public hearing on this proposed testing of weapons.  Please take a moment to call or email Greg Wahl directly.  See petition link for more details, but don't just sign the petition; again please call directly requesting extension on deadline for comments and a public hearing.  There is no time to lose.  The petition link does provide background information: https://www.change.org/p/us-navy-do-not-put-any-camper-sized-trucks-with-electromagnetic-radiation-equipment-to-conduct-war-exercises-with-military-aircraft-from-15-sites-in-clallam-jefferson-and-grays-harbor-counties

Greg Wahl/ Forest Service environmental coordinator
 1835 Black Lake Blvd. S.W.
 Olympia, WA 98512
 360-956-2375

Monday, October 20, 2014

Going To Tahiti

October. Cold, windy, leaves coming down.
Salmon in Trouble.

No?

Warm enough to wade and swim in the bay. Who needs to go to Tahiti? The Maori come to Neah Bay to make the babies dance happy. We call their weather The Pineapple Express. It's blowing snow-eater winds along the beaches and through the still-green alders.

More and more sunfishes, great whites and sperm whales showing up in the coastal waters and even in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. 

Salmon don't like warm water.

Salmon-fishing industry, recreational and sports - fighting over the last remaining salmon, either wild or hatchery - is just making buggy whips. And whining and crying about who's going to get to catch the last salmon. I did that cartoon just for them. Greedy, future-blind morons.

I know about buggy whips. I work in the newspaper industry. Sooner or later the Fun Paper that doesn't pay its writers is going to kill both the paper-industry papers, and then up its ad rates. It won't be able to resist. Why would it? It doesn't pay its writers. If it will treat them like a harvest, it will harvest you.

Meanwhile, the actual writers will go off to blogs - like this one - and make money off their own ads. No more invoicing! No more running asses off all over town for stories and photos that get bumped because newspapers only make their own towns' buggy-whips. No more "Be nice to the logging industry, that owns our editorial board." No more writing in the fucking Associated Press style that Hemingway hated so much. Whee!

Clallam County is ruffling with an argument over electronic or manual meter-reading machines, or whatever they're called. WTF? Solar mini-grids are coming, whether the PUD and the County want it or not. The meter machines are just more buggy whips. It's going to be another case of "There go my people! I must catch up and lead them!"

No arts or dance or music anything but industrial-lineworker production classes in the schools? No entertainment-industry preparation? Go ahead, take away the money from the schools, let the corporate test-companies eat up your curriculum, and send your kids to my comicon, where they can get what they need. Forks is about to have its own arts festival. The smartest loggers and fisherfolk are bringing their kids, because they've seen the future. 

Even the guy who cuts our firewood knows the 200-year-old "jobs" paradigm is about to run out of the steam of cheap resources. And "even?" I swear, lately, talking to the guys with the little firewood trucks, they're more on top of this than most of the people squabbling down at Port Angeles City Hall. Now that Mike Doherty's retiring, are we going to get a commissioner to replace him - the kind of professional politician who comes out here once a week because he knows where the votes are? Then again, we can always train the next one. We all have email. Or at least disposable cell-phones. They're called public "servants," people.

Forests and fisheries? Going to be harvesting a lot of palm trees, there? Or scrub oaks? Or whatever can thrive here when the weather changes - and it is. Planning to move your business north? Someplace else that will put up with a lifestyle based on grab-and-shit, when there's nothing left to shove into your industry's maw? There's a reason we've been warning you TreeHaters and Animal Players for decades - because it's been coming. Thanks a lot for being greedy AND deaf.

You can't have shark derbies - the soupfin industry saw to that. Sunfish grow too slowly and are too rare to become a halibut replacement. Rockfish are actually scorpion fish - which are tropical - so maybe they'll be happier. Good old lings and greenlings - can they be hatcheried? I dunno.

Better get to work converting those fishing boats for bird-watching. Other people have had to do it. Birder life lists are imaginary - but they pay just as much as a salmon left rotting in the hot sun in a sports boat as the owner went off to lunch. 

Hm. The First Nations will have to change their traditional fish ceremonies, because they won't have salmon any more. Then again, they're resilient people; they survived us, didn't they? 

Just don't decide to go after Monster Whale instead of grey whale. Those big southern people are hot-tempered and impatient of canoes. Ask Captain Ahab.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Dark and Scary Season

Beaver Creek Falls in high summer.
Another photo essay. I think I'll mostly just caption.

Kelp anchor.

"He's a chicken - right?"


Oxford Sandy & Black pigs in Neah Bay.

And the piglet.

What book? Who knows? We(s)t End Grafitti board.

Some kind of dead animal, rotted to soup.
Yes, the police know.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Chickening In

"I don't need chickens. I can buy the few eggs we need."

Not.

There's nothing like the luxury of having all the eggs we want, for cooking and distribution (I'm a publisher - we use publisher words). I'm spoiled. I want my hens back. I originally dreamed of having bees (like Sherlock Holmes?) but I have to face it - I'm a chicken farmer. We should do what we're good at.

"Food dish? No, it's a nest. Because we think so."
So here they are from the Airport Garden, five little Ameracauna hen chicks (99% guarantee from a nice bunch of people who keep love-me cats in the shop). The young man who sold 'em to me could talk chickens all day. Green eggs, evidently. Cool. I like color in my shells. Nothing as huge as the big pink eggs laid by old Rhode Island Red, but not quail eggs, either.

The first day, two chicks would fit in the feeder. Not the next day.
The five little chicks were given working-horse names. You don't give working farm animals - or goldfish - fancy personal names; it's a jinx. So meet Goldie, Blackie, Brownie, Pinkie and Stripes. The names might as well be yelled by Andy Devine in Stagecoach.

Yes, they're in the bathtub. The young man asked where I was going to keep them.

"In the bathroom."

"Oh. You're smart."

Most people must stick baby chicks out in the shed with a light. How am I going to get them friendly by picking them up and talking to them, if I can't drop in on their heated room whenever I feel like it, instead of putting on a coat and boots and finding excuses not to? Besides, they're so darn cute. 

Hey, I'm not the only one. The old farmer up here never talks about how his back-bred Jersey calves are successful, or his little Devons are blocky or milk well. They're "cute." He doesn't have a farm, he has a petting zoo. And is successful with all his beasts. Love = success? What a concept.



Tuesday, September 04, 2012

Down On The Farm.

My aging hens are safe and happy at Dryads Rest, in Chehalis, Washington. They have a farmyard, a clean roomy coop, a whole flock of hens and a big handsome rooster named Tiberius. They're sorting out the pecking order. Black and Tiberius had a cockfight, and he's still trying to keep the peace as the hens work it out. Red, who was so terribly torn up by the neighbor's dog, is just fine. Little Inky seems to feel safe.

I have to think about whether or not I want chicks in the spring. For one, I'd have to find a place for the aging hens, and there's only so many non-producing adoptees a farm can take. Then again, they'd still have the ability to produce some chicks and add to the bloodline. We'll see how I feel when I get the January gotta-do's in the yardwork and building line.

For second, Dan says my homemade tofu is an acquired taste - and he's acquired it. And I use a lot of homemade soy-milk. So maybe the whole hen operation will be replaced by a couple bags of soybeans every year.

Though, if I ever end up on a bigger piece of land, I can run a chicken operation, now I've learned about their care and medicating, etc. 

In the meantime, the co-op's tourist operation and the locals all want my homemade sea salt, and since I make it for us anyway, I can get the extra cash that way.


Wednesday, May 23, 2012

It's YOU!!

Walking back from the beach with a fish for today's breakfast, saw this little guy and did the horse head-throw and low nicker at him. Just to be polite.  He walked toward me, interested, but was on a tie-down, and so I waved and walked the block home.

While filleting the fish, I saw him in the yard outside.  Had he followed me?  I once walked all through town, not knowing the art gallery's long-haired Chihuahua was dogging my heels before the owner showed up in her car. I didn't want him to get down the road to Highway 101 and the inevitable miniature horse/logging truck pileup.

He transformed, throwing up his head, tossing his heavy mane, and raising his tail into a black waterfall.  He pranced at me with great joy, flinging his tiny black hooves in the air.  Only when he got close, did he stop, and the look in his eyes said, "Oh.  You're not HER."

Once I coaxed him close enough to grab his halter, he tried to dance and side-kick at me, but please, I'm almost bigger than he is. I called Dan the not-horse-person to come out, and he held Mr. Prancypants while I went down and got the horse's owner to come take him home.

Went and got his owner. His name is Stewy.  He definitely has Pomeranian syndrome; he thinks he is an Arab stallion.

Horses must recognize by sight. By his reaction, he's really missing somebody he loves, who looked like me. :{

This is the second miniature horse I've rescued. Last time, a neighbor's big malamute, Chewy, headed him off at the bridge before he could gallop to the highway.

Animals work better if we treat them like people.

Monday, April 30, 2012

Greenling are Green

Why they call these fish "greenling."

They have the most meat per pound of body size on them, too.
What greenling fillets and backbone look like crispy-fried.


Monday, March 26, 2012

Cleanest Beach on the West Coast

Dan and I estimate we've carried four tons of debris off the Clallam Bay beach since 2003.  And that's a very conservative estimate.

This is the debris-tree near the Clallam River bridge. Every year we pile the stuff that's too heavy to carry all the way back down the beach.  Then, each spring, when the bridge extension is replaced across the river, we get our wheelbarrow and haul all this stuff to the Clallam Bay Park dumpster.
This is the other tree, with a big flivver tire on it.  It must have been buried in mud, all these decades.  That rust thing used to be a coil of wire.

This is the cleanest beach between Alaska and Tierra del Fuego.  I dare somebody else to show us a cleaner beach, anywhere, year-long, that's over a mile long. 

All we do is always take a plastic bag along and fill it with every scrap of man-made detritus we see.  We hacksaw big metal apart, and use everything from the tiger carry to fulcrum power to get compressors and piping down the beach.  Yeah, we're a little obsessive.

But we have the cleanest beach on the west coast.  From Alaska to Tierra del Fuego.

Fried Mushy Peas and Eggs Sunny-Side Up

FINALLY got it right.

Like crispy green mashed-potato cakes, with tender-cooked home-laid eggs, drowned in Tobasco sauce.

Go ahead, laugh; it's delicious.




Sunday, March 18, 2012

Clean Way To Go


      A young Cooper's Hawk on the beach below the bald eagle's nests, during the time of year when the big birds are tolerating no interlopers, whether they compete or not.  It's also likely the kid made it through the winter, to finally starve in a tough, cold spring.
     We pulled another huge garbage sack of detritus off this beach, but here's some good news -- almost ALL of the garbage was very old.  A couple new Pepsi and Malt Liquor cans and a chunk of Styrofoam were the only really new pieces.  So, except for a few kids and drunks, people up here are pretty aware of the treasure of their own beach.
     There are worse places to end up.

Sunday, January 03, 2010

I haven't posted on this blog in a long time, but I'm going to start using it again for actual posts about our non-art life. The farm stuff, sort of.

Here's the first egg, laid by White (the other two are Red and Black; I don't name anything we may have to eat). This egg -- with a tinted shell reflecting White's ArAmerican blood -- was micro-poached, served on homemade bread. The shell was quite strong, from all the crab shells I pick up on the beach and crumble. The yolk was orange, not yellow, and sticky-rich.

Am building a new cage, one I can actually MOVE. I figure it will be better to have an actual chicken tractor, to clean the garden at end of season, get the weeds out of the walk, and not get nasty. It’s made of junk lumber and nails, so it’s not at pretty as the ones at the Chicken Tractor site. I have a terrible time visualizing where boards will end up, so of course it will be a bit crooked and ugly. But the hens will be happier. Happy hens = more and better eggs.