The big deal in my life right now is that the Real Doctor and I (and Opal and as yet unnamed) will be moving this summer. I find moving traumatic, no matter how necessary it may be. I know enough of the Four Noble Truths to realize that the cause of this trauma is attachment, and that I need to let go of things, but it's still hard when those things have personality.
Last Sunday we said adieu to our yard chooks; they've gone to a new home with one of the Real Doctor's coworkers, and are busy finding their place in the existing pecking order. So, here's some last pictures of the girls, as they were bundled into a carrier and greener pastures. Goldie, the gold-laced wynadotte:
and Rosie the Rose comb Leghorn with Barbarella the Barred Rock:
I've already started missing them; I was ripping up some weeds in our overgrown backyard and found a big, fat, juicy, green caterpillar. I'd picked it up and started walking towards the coop before I realized that there would be nobody to fight over it.
Ave atque vale, birdies.