Lets Talk Turkey

I think I want a pet turkey.

Just so I can look him in the eye and have a gobble-off every so often.

Turkeys are strange, clumsy, and somehow super-cool looking all at the same time.
Sort of like me. Or like Josh Krajcik on the XFactor, who has perhaps my new most-favorite-voice-of-all-time, but who looks like the burrito maker that he was in his former life.

But I digress.

I like turkeys. A lot. Possibly because I was born in November, and every several years celebrate my birthday on Thanksgiving.

I don't have a collection, unless the combined grouping of a cookie cutter, sampler, table runner, and mug count as a collection.

I decided last year that I need a Turkey to hang on my kitchen wall during the Thanksgiving season, and have been letting the idea simmer in my head ever since. But with the season now upon me, all of the lingering pieces have come together, and I am in the midst of stitching up a turkey out of wool pieces.

I absolutely adore wool applique work. In between projects I forget just how much I love it.

This fellow will be revealed in all his completed splendor very soon.

Lately

Our eight laying hens have been averaging 6 eggs per day.

These two have been telling each other "I love you" a lot.

Christmas story books have entered regular rotation (shown here: The Polar Express, The Mitten, and A Peanuts Christmas).

This one loves to do things like zip her jammies all by herself, yet she still wants to hold my hand when we walk.

I've been shooting into the light.

Ouch!

When I first saw that egg (see it?) I felt sorry for the hen that laid it.

I wondered if laying an egg that enormous hurt her as badly as natural childbirth hurt me.

Then I figured, nah... because if it hurt that bad, there would be screaming chickens all day out in the hen house.

Stalking the Chickens

Because of the merciless Chicken Genocide of 2009, we have been without fresh, home-layed eggs for a very long time.

And with all of the hullabaloo lately about store bought eggs making people sick, I am craving some fresh from the farm goodness even more.

The new batch of layers is on the verge of being old enough to start giving us eggs, so lately, I have been haunting their Chic Chalet, looking for any sign at all that they might be wanting to start their job in earnest.

But no... no eggs yet. Instead, do you see what I see?

Yep. I'm pretty sure that 2 of our pullets will never, ever lay an egg, and by the watchful attitudes and glint in their beady eyes, methinks I will have to separate them from the flock pretty soon, or someone is going to get hurt.