The adventures of Fuzzy and Wheezy, a hardworking dyad, hell bent on zapping all the joy out of their lives by perpetually biting off more than they can chew.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
We may have a new pet. A black chicken has started hanging out in the yard. And she can fly. Not just hop up a few feet while flapping her wings but really fly. Carl and I don't think chickens are suppose to be able to do that. She must be a wild hen. Or an escapee with wanderlust. Initially she stayed near the edge of the woods but today she strutted across the pavers in front of the garage like she owned the joint.