We are still more than slightly intrigued when new gluten free products pop up at the grocery. I don’t tend to notice many of these items now as I’m a grokery shopper (otherwise known as perimeter skirter). But, every now and then something comes up on the radar.
Recently I discovered some goodies made by Udi’s (I was shopping for a long road trip and figured a few concessions may be called for to keep the 5
heathens children at bay).
Udi’s has a gluten free granola… and it’s the best gluten free granola we’ve tried to date. I quite enjoyed it on top of sliced banana with some whole milk (I was sick, so it was the perfect excuse to have carbs/comfort food and I finished the bag nearly on my own).
Obviously, this has grains so it is a RARE treat. However, we will be buying it again (and I might even share with the kids).
In other news, I’m on day 3 of the 21 day sugar detox (again). This time, I’m determined to go the whole way. I’d like to drop 15 lbs (or 1 size) by Christmas. I have very specific reasons for this, but I’m not sharing in case some of the little eyes in my house happen upon this post. So, that yummy granola will have to wait. Maybe I’ll treat myself with a bit over our vacation (hence the 15lbs) at Christmas time if I make my goal.
This is Snowball (a white Brahma), my personal favorite chicken. She and her cohort, Owl (a golden Wyandotte) always fly the coop and spend most of their days out in our yard. We let all the chickens roam free on the weekends, but due to poop issues we can’t during the week or else the daycare kids would be playing in chicken droppings. Ewwww.
Anyway, every time I went outside, Snowball would come running to me. She was hoping for food. She’d walk alongside me to the coop and as we neared it, she would stop, squat down, and put her wings out as if to say, “go ahead and pick me up”. So, I would pick her up and put her back in the run. She was a fun chicken.
Sweet Snowball had a tragic accident while roaming our backyard on Monday. I was out dropping my girls off at dance class. My father in law let his new dog out in the yard. Before this dog came home, I had a nightmare that he slaughtered my chickens. . . I was hoping it was paranoia. Snowball was seriously injured, but after putting a call in to our local farming expert, we decided to treat her for shock and see if we could get her to pull through. 24 hours later she died.
I’ve had the weirdest feelings about this whole ordeal. I feel absolutely horrid knowing she had to go through a very traumatic experience. . . getting mauled by a dog must be akin to a human being mauled to death by a bear. Fear. Pain. Common sense screams, “she was just a chicken!”. But, she was our pet.
I know my chickens are not dumb creatures. They follow me around, they look at me with heads cocked and beady eye blinking as if they are trying to tell me something, they flock to their house at dusk without any other prompting, and the first night Snowball was missing from their group, 4 of them mounted a search party- well after dusk, they were walking the perimeter of the run fence and calling out into the yard, then they’d stop and listen. . . they were calling for their friend, trying to lead her home. Part of me wishes she had died a quick death. Part of me wonders if we should have culled her immediately after the incident. Part of me thinks this was the most natural and humane way to let her go, by giving her the support to make it if she could and letting her slip naturally into death when the injuries overtook her.
When I first saw her after the attack, she was panting and making soft crying sounds. When her breathing calmed and she was quite, but alert and trying to move, I hoped she was making improvement. I had placed her in the garage in a cat crate with a soft towel for a bed, fresh water, food, & I covered the crate with another towel for darkness to encourage her to rest. We cleaned her wounds (there wasn’t much blood, which made me hope it wasn’t as bad as we feared).
Today, I haven’t visited my chickens. . . just a quick trip to return Owl to the run and refill food. It makes me sad to know Snowball isn’t in with her flock. We still have 14 chickens. . . I feel myself taking a step back from being the “chicken mama” to being the chicken owner. I guess we all became too emotionally invested in these creatures.
I have this issue with animals, and I think that’s why I try to not get attached to them. When my cat, Peanut was hit by a car several years ago. . . we were out in the yard and I heard her bones breaking (it sounded like a tree limb cracking). That sound replayed in my waking and sleeping thoughts for weeks afterward. So far, it’s been the same with Snowball, it’s like I can feel the fear and pain she experienced.