I knew better

I will never let anyone process a deer for me again.  I don't care if we are having guests or not.  That was a HUGE doe El Jefe got, and if we got 35 # of meat back, I'd be shocked.  The entire back end of the deer is missing.  I got ONE shoulder roast, and ONE neck roast, a few chops and steaks, and 12# of summer sausage.  That's IT.  Now we have to spend muzzleloader season hunting for another deer, because we don't have enough meat in the freezer to last 'til next October.  Wait, I'm complaining about hunting.  Never mind.  I was actually kind of disappointed I wasn't going to get to hunt anymore after El Jefe got the monster doe, because I didn't think there would be room in the freezer for that buck that was mocking me ten yards outside my crossbow range.  Still, I'm angry at the cost of the processing. 

In better news, the Top Hats have started laying, so we're getting 9-12 eggs a day.  Which will soon be a problem in itself unless I find someone to eat them.  I suppose I could freeze them in ice cube trays and shut off the light in the larger coop and let them slow down for a few months.  In fact, I think that is what I will do.  I'll replace their light with a red heat lamp, and that should slow them down significantly.  Heck, they'll probably molt.

I had to put Dinosaur in the chicken hospital last night (that would be my tub, since we are using the other bathroom with the shower in it 'til I sand the ceiling of the full bath.  One of the stupid roosters, probably Drunken Chicken, tore such a chunk of flesh off the back of her head that I could see her skull.  I sprayed it with veterimycin (sp?) and I may keep her in the tub today and tonight, too.  I hope it heals.  She isn't the prettiest hen (that would be Golden Claw), but she is the most friendly.  She fell asleep on my knee with the other Barred Rock on Saturday eve, when I took a few moments to sit in the chair by the Big Coop.  That was after I had to knock all the other chickens off me, since I really don't appreciate their dirty feet getting caught on my hair when they are up on my shoulder.  Usually it's up in a bun, so they can't, but that day it wasn't, and I didn't realize what would happen when eight silly hens decided to rush me for treats.  I still like them.

It's the dog I hate.  He puked on the floor.  Twice. 

We finished cleaning the wood cookstove this morning, and the chimney.  That will be a blog post all it own.  Now I must go start a fire, and homeschool the spawnlets.  We're late today already...