Have you ever heard this old saying; "You can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl"?
It is something that one of my cousins was fond of saying about me when we lived in a big city and I would come back to visit Grandma and Grandpa on the farm. I was rather clueless on the farm in most regards, but bottle feeding a calf was a specialty of mine (foster parent in the making I guess). It never took me very long to pick up my accent again either. Grandma has quite the country drawl and I did as well when I was younger. Having done everything possible to change that trait while in college most people are surprised to find out where I grew up.
But I digress ... it seems the city may have worn off of me entirely and this country girl has come home to the mountains. I've been trying to get to the nail salon for a manicure for weeks, I get my hair cut every 6 months or so (I have 4 kids for crying out loud - they get regular haircuts), I find I usually prefer to cook from scratch now rather than heat and serve and lastly I bathed a chicken today. No I did not baste one in butter and broth, I bathed him with warm water and gentle dish soap.
Our rooster, (he is still without a name due to a disagreement about what his name should be with my darling husband ... digressing again ... long day ...), we will call him Jasper (because I want to and it is my blog), has a cold. He has a runny nose and ichy-watery eyes (just like any of my kids would have with a cold), but since he lacks hands (and thumbs) I have to wipe his beak for him or it gets clogged. I've quarantined him from the flock and he is spending some time getting better in a dog crate up at the house. His eyes were getting warm and swollen and I could tell that what he really wanted was a cool washcloth for his eyes, so last night that is just what I did for him. This morning he was better, but the barnyard smell and snot (sorry, I truly tried to think of another term) were too much for me to endure. He looked horrible. Last week he was dignified and this week he look down and out.
After consulting my Storey's Guide to Raising Chickens, 3rd Edition as to how to go about bathing a chicken I got out my supplied and went to work. He really seemed to enjoy his bath and I was able to get all the accumulated gook off of him. I got a bit of a bath in the process, but not until the end. It was my fault really. He felt the need to fly down off the counter and I wasn't quite ready for that move.
If only my former self could see me now ... she would run screaming into the nearest department store and chain herself to the rack of new arrivals.
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