The Glamour of My New Life

Yesterday was such a glorious day. I went into town, picked up some supplies for our never ending home renos. I came home, put on my new favourite boots. ( A title once reserved for the most gorgeous pair of over the knee soft brown leather Steve Maddens it is now awarded to my heavy rubber/neoprene steel toed Muck Boots.) With that I began the daunting task of preparing our chicken coop. The farm we bought has all of the buildings necessary for a farm, but alas none were in "move-in ready" condition.
I've always been a bit squeamish especially when it comes to poop. Not anymore my friends, not any more. I'm not sure when the shift began, was it when I had to pull frozen deer poop from the mouth of our beloved puppy, or when i stepped in some giant pile of unidentifiable animals excrement? Or did it simply begin yesterday after the first hour of scraping chicken poo off of the nesting boxes? It could have been the moment when i was deeply involved in my scraping and realized that the flakes coming off were landing mostly in my hair and on my face. It's hard to pinpoint the exact time all I know is that I am squeamish no more. So I consider that a victory. I even came upon two nearly fossilized little eggs from the past chickens. Endless treasures.

The whitish things there are eggs but the rest, that's poop

The chickens are arriving tonight. My dear little cousin graciously volunteered to transport all 20 of my chickens in the back of their truck. I've never transported chickens so I really haven't a clue what to expect in terms of how well they travel. Is there some kind of Farm Lord that I can pray/sacrifice/make offerings to?

We were almost able to walk the perimeter of the main pasture, one end is still too deeply covered in snow. We've got yaks coming in two weeks, so the snow better hurry itself up and get gone so we can check our fences before they arrive. I always feel like I'm a real life farmer when I say things like, "check fences" though I imagine that just thinking that is exactly what indicates that I am not in fact a real life farmer, just a wannabe.

One of the pretty little ladies we have arriving soon

So far I have found a kind of rhythm in this farm life, wake up drink some coffee, watch the sun come up and listen to the roosters in the distance. Do work, eat dinner, sleep and repeat. I'm not sure how people run farms and have full time jobs at the same time, I spend nearly 12 hours of my day just in preparing for animals, and we don't even have animals yet to look after. If you currently know a farmer (a real one, not me. Go and give them some love it's a tough life guys.)

Chicken poop selfie