A little background info. I met my wife (the whoa-man) on the internet. (gasp) No really. It was in an AOL sponsored trivia community. Live games run by community leaders - which I later became. What began as a host/player relationship blossomed into a friendship and expanded into love. So much so, I left my home in Tennessee to be with her, here in North Carolina. We live around the corner from her mother. She's up there in age and requires a little supervision and help in her twilight years of life.
The whoa-man and I have been together for 11 years. We have never raised our voice to one another, in anger. Never! Hard to believe? It's true. We think the same. We say the same things. We yawn at the same time. We sigh at the same time. We should be the poster children for Soul Mates. In our younger years, we had separate lives. I joined the U.S. Air Force and raised a family of my own - 2 boys. The whoa-man married and raised a girl and a boy. Now, all the kids are grown and have families, or places, of their own. We're Grandparents. My grands are in Tennessee and the whoa-man's are in Texas. Long distance relationships seem to be the norm for us.
Let's begin our story with rabbits. We started raising rabbits in 2010. Not for meat, as pets. Bought one at first. A week later another and a few months later another. Rabbits can be boring, boring, boring. I raised them as a kid for meat and never did too much socializing with them. Why? Because rabbits are boring - did I already say that? Boring enough to finally end our association with them this year. I traded them for chickens. More chickens.
|Cadbury. Our first. Raised from a babe, haven't a picture of her young. ?|
|Cassie. The second. She was 6 months old when we got her.|
|Chiklit. Picked him out when he was a couple days old and still hairless|
|He turned into this monster buck. Laid back as you could ever be.|
We bought 2, in July of 2010. A white crested black (Morticia) and a white crested blue (Phyllis Diller). That's all we expected to have. Two. HA! Then the fever hit me. Chickens are like Lay's potato chips - you can't just have 1 or 2 or even 3. There's that new math. That new math called, Chicken Math. You can't stop. You need more, more, more, I tell ya.
This was the beginning of our flock...