Doors and Windows - Peru.

StarPeru flight into Cusco.

Qoricancha. In Cusco.
Incan walls with Spanish cathedral built on top.

Qoricancha.

Qoricancha.

Sacsayhuaman ruins. Above Cusco.

Sacsayhuaman ruins.

Lately it's been...

...hotter than the inside of a live chicken!© And for those of you who didn't believe that this fantabulous saying would ever make it's way into the jargon of pop culture, here is verifiable proof that not only has this saying become ever-so-popular, but that it has spread out of the chicken mecca of Tucson, AZ all the way across the state line to California. That's right, if this trend was a crime, it would now be federal. My friend and co-worker from Los Angeles, California sent me this picture just this morning, as she witnessed temperatures in Pasadena at 6pm on Saturday rise exactly two degrees hotter than the inside of a live chicken!© Thanks to all those committed Chicken Diction aficionados out in the world.

Confessional.

Hi, my name is Matthew. And I'm addicted to my climbing wall.

Chickens have a special place in their chicken hearts for common people.

There are really no words that can express how happy I was to have stumbled upon this.

Hot town summer in the city.

As temps heat up, so do my chickens....

So say my chickens too...

"Anarchism is not a romantic fable but the hardheaded realization, based on five thousand years of experience, that we cannot entrust the management of our lives to kings, priests, politicians, generals, and county commissioners."
- Ed Abbey

(For more Abbey quotes you can go to this nifty webpage.)

The Inside Coop #3

Tucson's most nearly famous hens are in full egg laying production these days. The longer days and warmer weather has does wonders for their spirits. You can even see how they change from the drab, slightly colder weather black and white to brighter, sunny and warm colors.

Cracker in profile. This is her best side - trust me, I've watched her lay an egg.

Fans, this is a true Chicken Diction moment. This is where it all begins.

One of the Araucanas - your guess is as good as mine really.

Here they are after a hard day's work.

Ode to Quoits.

For those lost souls out there who don't know what quoits (pronounced quaits) are, here is a quick tutorial of this wondrous sport. It's similar to horseshoes but a shorter distance (21 feet to be exact), shorter pegs, and instead of the open horseshoe shape it is a brass doughnut shape thus making "ringers" that much more difficult and therefore emotional. For more detail than you would ever want and some slightly awkward pictures of mostly overweight, middle-aged, white men, see the website for the United States Quoiting Association (really). You can even purchase your own set there. Here is evidence of the hours of enjoyment one can have playing quoits: we had to set out outdoor lighting to keep playing after dark! My set did not in fact come from the USQA website, but but from our dear friend Phil in Virginia, who is currently up for sainthood in our household due to his enormous generosity and strength of character for parting ways with this most beauteous set of quoits. Our dear friend Andrew also deserves a round of well wishes and prayers due to his self-sacrificing nature and allowing me to take this particular set when offered by Phil since as he said, "they make them right across the street from my house in Lancaster, Pennsylvania." That's right folks, this is me getting back to my Mennonite heritage and my only form of proselytizing - encouraging others to play this ever versital game of skill and technique, while most likely drinking beer.

November rain.

Yesterday morning I woke up to the sound of water dribbling down the ABS pipe along the house that leads to the cistern. This was a new sound, and as a homeowner (especially early in the morning) new sounds are by definition suspicious. I sat up very startled, and was quickly calming myself, satisfied that everything was going where it was supposed to and indeed making all the right noises according to their little water paths - I had just never heard these things before.

So today, I googled images for "chicken" and "rain" and this snapshot of Don, Jim, Bob, Alva, and Bud is one of the photos I got. Not exactly what I was looking for - I have never met those five hefty, mountain men, but I am sure they had a good time eating the chicken if the rain didn't keep the fire at bay.

I am really writing because I could barely contain my excitement that it is actually raining and the water catchment tank is filling up (slowly as there is really only a light drizzle here and there). This morning I could even turn on the spigot to find free, untainted agua pouring out. This is all very exciting as the cistern has now lost its catchment virginity of sorts. I also saw a little toad between the aloe patch and the cover crop I have planted in the summer beds. I always take it as a good sign that random little creatures live in the yard - unless they are feral cats going after the chickens (there's at least one that I regularly am forced to throw rocks at) or hundreds of swallows making off with free chicken feed (I'm thinking a scarecrow?).

And with the rain, the gutters have not fallen off (though there are a few places I will have to seal up), the tank hasn't fallen over, and the plants in the basins look very content with their new found locations. According to all the weather websites and forecasters, there is a 100% chance of rain for the rest of the day and night, into tomorrow. For anyone who knows anything about Tucson, saying that it will rain with such certainty is nearly unheard of, and tantamount to saying something like Dick Cheney is going to have another heart attack, take his shiny, black helmet off, and beg forgiveness just like he did in Star Wars - don't get our hopes up if it isn't absolutely true.

Well at least it's raining.

How Chicken Diction has made your life better!

Well the results are in. A little late perhaps, but right in line with all floundering democracies and their voting tendencies. Though you can of course see the results of the poll in the left column, you have no doubt been anticipating the unparalleled, critical analysis of the results by yours truly. So without further ado...

As I suspected and the exit polls clearly indicated, it was a three-way tie between the following ways in which Chicken Diction has made all your lives better:

- I have major chicken envy.
- I am on the frickin' edge of my seat wondering when those Araucanas will lay a blue egg!
- You're a nut job.

There is clearly a theme here between the leading positive impacts of Chicken Diction on your lives. Indeed there is only one clear reason behind these responses being equal in votes - clearly you are all die hard chicken fans, forever rooting for the underchicken(?) to lay a fabled blue egg, to the extent that you read this blog so much you are on the verge of a mental collapse, much like myself. I know, it's difficult to admit, but that is why we ensured that voting remained confidential and free of any tampering, so that you were able to fully express just how beneficial this blog has been to your life.

As an aside, I would like to mention that I am glad no one is stalking me through this blog. Also, I am happy to point out that since it is so obvious that Chicken Diction has a positive impact on peoples' lives, even the poor soul who got lost and inadvertently ended up on this blog must have had a life changing experience.

Wow. I am so relieved that people love this blog. It really serves to entrench my ego in the way that blogs were meant to do. There is nothing more satisfying than writing about oneself and then having people tell you how great you are for it. Thank you Chicken Diction lovers wherever you are. May you continue to find inspiration from my nutty life, shamelessly detailed on this nut job blog!

Winter gardening and chicken talk.

Pathways, river rocks, fire rings, and veggies.

Chiles!

Lettuce, spinach, swiss chard, and paths.

"Hey Hayduke, make sure no one's coming will ya?"

"Coast is allll clear Cracker."

"It's hard out there for a hen. Can hardly find time to lay an egg. Hey you Araucanas! Need some inspiration - check this out!"

Here comes the praying mantis!

This Praying Mantis was outside our kitchen door yesterday morning. I think it was after our compost bucket. Riley thought we should put it on Mari's pillow, which I think would have been confusing and painful for everyone involved in that endeavor, and without a doubt end oh so badly. Needless to say the Praying Mantis was left to its own shifty motions and unknown misadventures.

"The left column."

I would like to draw your attention to the not-so-famous "left column" in this blog. There are three reasons really. The first is that my brother (among others) has told me that he has never clicked on a single link in the "left column." My own brother! It's hard out there for a blogger. The second reason is that I have recently re-worked some of the categories and added some interesting links. The last, and I am sure most crowd-pleasing-Chicken-Diction- enthusiast-exciting, is that I have finally gotten not only up to date with the egg laying exploits, but I have made a more standardized system for some of the naysayers and critics out there in the Tucson community...So damnit - take a look at the left column and learn yourselves a thing or two. Or just hear some random shit that I happen to chuckle at late at night when I am writing for this blog. Whatever, just look at the left column, it's worth it I promise.

A Guatemalan wooden chicken for your enjoyment.

My "go outside" rant.

Hello Chicken Diction aficionados!

In response to a self-diagnosis of CEAD (current events affective disorder) I, along with some good friends, will be out in the wilds backpacking and breathing fresh air from mountain tops and beside ponderosa pine trees this weekend.

I tell you this for several reasons: 1. I don't want you to fret that I am not catching up on blogging as I often do over the weekends, 2. I am sure you will miss me, and 3. If you are sitting in front of a computer reading this, then you should do at least one of many things, none of which are continue sitting in front of a computer checking blogs. (Well perhaps you should read a bit farther in case you need some creative ideas...Here goes.)

Most importantly, GO OUTSIDE. I don't really care where you are. Though I personally have an extreme aversion to cold, I still am a firm believer that it is crucial for everyone to see without the aid of florescent lighting and breath non-filtered, bona-fide a-i-r. So go outside and breath. Play. Go for a run or just sit on your ass. Watch the birds fly south and imagine where they are going. Find a sidewalk and dig up a piece of it. Then plant something that has roots and water it in. Find a stream and throw rocks at the log on the other side. Wake up early and listen to the sounds that you only hear through your dreams as the light slowly warms the world. Walk somewhere instead of driving. Tell yourself that the extra time is the key to sanity. It is. Or ride a bike and take the long route, one you have never been on before, and see what you see. If you have to drive, drive OUT of the city, town, or boro in which you live and keep going until the skyline is not made by people. Go to the park, the square, or even your backyard. Get dusty for no reason, and muddy for fun. But whatever you do, please go outside. Stop reading this. For your sanity. For mine. Come back a better person, more calm, impassioned, less crabby, but less comfortable in a routine that keeps us forgetting to go outside and get dirty.

Now go goddammit, before it's too late.

I'm in love with this scene...

It is no surprise to anyone that I am a helpless/hopeless romantic, but this is one of my most favorite new films (somehow Will Ferrel is endearing), and this scene and song has been stuck in my head for days. Now it will be stuck in yours. Enjoy.

Chicken aviary.

Thank you all for your many wonderful suggestions and solutions for the chicken menace that has roamed my yard freely and with impunity over that past couple months. I finally settled the matter once and for all with an enormous piece of shade cloth that has been effectively tented over the "chicken area" with posts and rope. The effect is a more shaded space that fully contains the chickens and their powerful flying ability that even allowed them to roost on the roof of my house one night. They seem content enough, though they regularly make clucking noises at me as I work around in the backyard, which is considerably more than before. Yet at least one chicken is laying eggs daily it seems and the compost is getting the attention it needs from my hens. There is one tree that I have enclosed in this "chicken aviary" and at one point it will become tall enough that a different strategy will need to be employed, but that is also part of the convenience of this solution, as I have the flexibility to easily remove it should I want to.

Anyways, here is a picture of it:

The chicken aviary also doubles as a filming location for the set of M.A.S.H.

"Dyke chickens."

My menthol-cigarette-smokin'-vietnam-vet-bulldog-owning-gossipy- but-well-meaning-chatterbox-of-a-neighbor is worried I am going to end up with a bunch of dyke chickens if I don't get a rooster, and fast. According to him, that is the sole reason I don't have eggs from my nearly seven month old hens who are currently causing me more strife than seems to be worth any amount of fabled eggs that the future holds. Of course when he told Riley that my chickens were soon to have butch-lesbian tendencies and that the certain cure-all was some hardcore chicken testosterone, Riley rightly asked him if he really wanted a rooster waking him up at four in the morning. That seemed to end the stream of consciousness male chicken fix all advise that is not uncommon from the east side of my all too short and none too private chain link fence.

None-the-less, I have yet to figure out a solid solution for chicken quarentine that is badly needed should my neighborly advise turn into griping and complaining as he quickly discovers that my hens have taken a fancy to his clothes-line pole over the already too close fence line. In any case they definitely have NOT laid any eggs yet and my daily threat to eat one of them (Cracker being the most plump - are we surpised at all by this?) have failed to hold any water - perhaps they know just how long and laborious it is to pluck a dead chicken without the convenience of more advanced technology than my fingers. So my porch continues to be graced by chicken shit, my unprotected plants assaulted by soon-to-be dyke chicken beaks, and the beautiful chicken house and shelter that I built neglected like an unwanted rooster amongst five very content hens. Meanwhile the dipper gourd has gone crazy and the mission grape has recovered after too many close encounters with my feathered livestock. The various trees I have planted in the last year are suddenly exploding with the fresh dousing of rain water day after day, making me truly believe in all that I have sown into this flood plain ground of a backyard. And my chickens are in danger of falling in love with each other. I can think of nothing better for my once-desolate-now-blooming-and- fertile-backyard. I hope such opportunity flourishes near you.

Our Guatemalan Index.

Here are some numbers from our few weeks in Guatemala:

Size of our group: 4
Number of us who got parasites: 3
Out of whack digestive systems before the amoebas took hold: 2
Ear drums ruptured due to (massive) ear infection: 1
Painfully swollen left cheeks after diving: 1
Mushrooms in the gastrointestinal tract: 2
Toothaches: 1
Percentage of people who got colds: 50
Percentage of us who were stressed out at some point(s): 100
Minimum number of different visits to doctors, clinics, hospitals, and laboratories: 15

Ahh, foreigners traveling abroad! If only we had been able to find the relief that this public bathroom so brilliantly advertised...

Inspiration.

Perhaps it is out of place to use a blog about chickens, that is at times self-deprecating and at least attempting to be amusing, to occasionally be somewhat introspective, but I will let you all in on a little secret that might explain the twists and turns that will inevitably exist on this blog. It is this: that like so many other things in life, I find the project of raising chickens and growing food in my backyard downright inspiring. The learning and changes that are apart of that work are some amazing gifts. The fact that I have a blog about it all is merely a bit of evidence to that reality. It really is that simple for me. And if in between my shared idiosyncrasies, attempts at humor, and pangs of seriousness, some inspiration makes it's way into the wide spaces that we inhabit, I will be oh so satisfied.

I think there are times in our lives that we need inspiration more than others. Today I was looking for some and was fortunate enough to find it in and around my house. For me they are more than photos, they represent opportunity creation passion life and much more. I won't try and explain them, but I wanted to share them. Wherever you are, I hope you are finding your own inspiration...

Rambling.

I am beginning to wonder if the desert is driving me mad. Not in the way that I don't enjoy, but in that way that has my head spinning in all sorts of directions keeping my thoughts significantly more random than usual and what comes out of my mouth drastically more quirky. Focusing is currently not my strong point (one could argue whether it ever was), and frequently I have this feeling that I am multi-tasking quite well, when really I am utterly distracted by 83 things at once. Perhaps there was a meltdown somewhere in my brain that has allowed normally isolated oddities to leak into other parts of my psyche leaving me prone to indecipherable ramblings...

Going on two years in Tucson now. Maybe I should have just expected it? The really interesting bit, is that I am totally amusing myself. People's quizzical looks only feed my enjoyment of the strange comments that spontaneously erupt during conversation. Is anyone else experiencing this? Am I alone in my rapid descent into Sonoran madness? Will I one day better understand the writings of Edward Abbey, or the rock art in the canyonlands of the Southwest? Maybe this is just what happens when you buy a house and has nothing to do with the desert. Perhaps the arugula was too strong...What's in that chicken feed anyways? Hello?

Here I am appearing to offer my cousins' son a margarita - his mom didn't even try and stop me either...