In an effort to not be “out Portland”-ed, we are trying chickens one more time. From left to right: Prince, Pokey and Khaleesi. My wife named Prince because, you know, it’s topical. My daughter named Pokey after a bedtime story my wife made up for her about a whale named Pokey who got lost and I named Khaleesi because she is the Mother of Dragons and she will eventually lay cool green eggs.
Our previous attempt failed due to raccoons (I chased them off one night and let me tell you: cutest murderers EVER) but we had the chickens for a good long while. Now we have a smaller and more predator-proof enclosure and in true Portland fashion we picked up our chickens out of the back of a truck at a Walmart parking lot. Shady chicken sales in the parking lots of Walmarts are how we roll around here, I suppose.
Anyway, here’s hoping these little guys have long and fruitful lives with us. The kids sure love them.