The magic number...54

You thought I was going to say 42, didn't you?  Well, the meaning of life is actually 54 where honeybees are concerned.  54 degrees F, that is.  That's the temp it has to be for them to come flying out of the hive.  We hit that today, and the Pirate accused one of the honeybees of stalking her around the house.  A few others came by while we were butchering Drunken Chicken, the mean rooster who was too hard on the hens.  He is parted out and in the fridge, waiting to become Chicken Dumplings tomorrow, and the rest of him is in the pot right now, well on its way to becoming chicken stock.  Which smells fantastic, I must add.  We're going to eat at least two of the other three roosters, too, because I've got two new rooster chicks coming in April, and want their bloodlines in my flock, rather than what I've got now... I need chickens with smaller combs, so I don't have to deal with their getting frostbite.  I hope we've seen the last of weather cold enough to cause that this year.  I'm impatient for spring.