Which came first, the chickens or the goats?

A week had passed since we had welcomed "Callie" the canine into our little family. She had adapted quite well, and so had we. Actually, things had been easy. Perhaps a little too easy.

When my husband had first suckered me into moving out here, (thats a whole other blog in and of itself) I had briefly toyed with the idea of having chickens. Being zoned agricultural it just seemed like "the thing to do". I had even gone so far as to humor a good friend and glance at a coop that she had found for sale. However the thought of having to care for any other living breathing thing aside from my "handful-and-a-half" son wiped that pipe dream quickly off the plate. Wayyyyyy off.

"2 years animal free" is what the sign on our wall might have read. And then along came the dog and it was like something snapped. I feel like one of those people. You know the ones who try plastic surgery for the first time. Just a small procedure to "test the waters" and then the next thing you know you're Renee Zellweger, and you've "botoxed your botox" into unrecognizability. Yep, just call me "Renee".

Because not even 8 days after adopting the dog, I'd ordered the coop online and had begun scouring the ads on craigslist for prospective inhabitants. I mean I only wanted 4. 4 seemed like a good starter number? Right? And ABSOLUTELY NO ROOSTERS.

I was in charge. I knew exactly what I wanted and that was that (crosses arms and sticks foot out for tapping). Or was I? Because I once again found myself in a fly by the seat of the pants impulse situation, in a neighbor "has this friend, who had these chicks" type-a-deal.

I seem to be doing all of this in a "mommy to be" sorta manner. And by that I mean, you have an idea that you may want to have a baby, you then discuss with your partner and "procure" said baby. And while baby is "baking" THEN you make the nest. So, I found myself racing around the clock and sourcing out hard labor to my poor 80 year old neighbor in order to get this coop built. I'm not gonna lie, there were moments that I felt as if I were running some sort of "senior citizen sweatshop"operation. "Make it look PRETTY I SAID!" *insert whip crack sound here* A day and a half later, the coop was finished and 4 young ladies were comfortably inside. And all was right with the world...

Or was it?