I knew it was going to be cold this morning, so last night I prepackaged some grains, pellets and lots of meal worms to put in their henhouses because I knew they weren't going to leave their warm(er) houses to eat from the feeder, plus I was wanting to keep my time outside to a bare minimum. I could throw their food into a couple dog dishes, shut the chickens back in and go back to the house.
At 8 this morning, it was an invigorating minus 4 or minus 7 degrees, depending on if I was checking the weather report or my porch thermometer. No big deal, I've hunted coyotes on the east slope of the Sierras in that kind of cold. Not for long, but I have hunted in that kind of cold. I've got the gear for it.
So I dig out my wool stocking cap, my 40 year old wool army scarf, my insulated bibs, hunting parka and gloves and started getting dressed for the whopping 10 minutes I was going to be out there.
I got all bundled up and then like every 3 year old kid in a snow suit, I had to piss. Stripped off my gloves and pissed.
Got ready to go out and realized my gun was still in my holster. Undressed part of the way, put it in my coat pocket, got dressed again.
Finally made it out the door. It was fucking COLD out there. Yeah, I've hunted in zero degrees before, but not in a 25mph wind which dropped the temps down to minus 25 degrees. Holy shit.
When I went to open the Daisy's henhouse, the sliding lock was frozen shut in spite of the WD-40 I doused it with last night to keep it from freezing, and my multi-tool was on my belt. Unzip, unbutton, reach across for the Gerber, then rebutton, rezip, and put my glove back on.
That blast of cold air went right through my thermal shirt and my dick said fuck this and retracted clean up inside of me.
I got the lock undone and opened the door to feed the Daisys and every one of them looked up from their huddle and screamed, "SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR, ASSHOLE!!!" I put their food in and shut the door. I can take a hint.
I looked for that asshole dog Jack and he was running along the fence line carrying his right rear foot. Asshole must've cut it on some ice. I'll patch it up when I got back in.
I went to the other coop where my monster rooster Two Point Five and his two bitches reside. Same problem with that lock, but at least my multi-tool was in my pocket this time.
I looked over my shoulder and there goes that asshole dog Jack, this time carrying his left rear foot. What the hell?
I lifted the lid on that coop's henhouse and there was Two Point Five laying down with his wings spread and a hen under each one, keeping them warm. Good rooster. I patted him, put their bowl of food down and shut the lid.
I looked for Jack again and there he was down at the treeline and now he's carrying his front left foot.
Now I'm really wondering what's going on.
We got back into the house and when I went to check his feet, there was nothing wrong with any of them. That's when I realized it was so damned cold out there he was alternating carrying his feet to keep all four of them from freezing at the same time.
Oh, then about a half hour later I looked out my window and there's my neighbor Tim, the one who moved down here from Alaska a few years ago, filling up the bird feeders in his yard - in his fucking shirt sleeves.
