The cost

You Capture this week is "photographer's choice". I don't understand how that is a theme. But, whatever, it's Beth's deal so she can do what she wants. It will be fun to see what everyone comes up with.

Photographer's choice? Consider yourself warned.

Okay, I'm teasing and I promise my photo isn't graphic. Promise!

I had some business to take care of on Saturday. My oldest boy wanted to assist, which made the job even more entertaining. Things started off in our usual fashion as it took us nearly an hour to round up the items we needed.

First, a rake. The tines on the one in the barn weren't wide enough for the job. Since it was obvious that the boys had stolen the other one, I sent the kid searching our yard. Our yard is big. BIG.

Meanwhile I looked for the block of wood I used last year. It wasn't in the barn. It wasn't behind the barn. It wasn't anywhere. I started searching our woodpile for a suitable replacement, but couldn't find one that met my strict criteria. I am so hard to please.

The kid had gotten distracted and was hypnotized by a water hose.

As I stood there bemoaning the fact that my perfect old chopping block was gone forever, the little rooster crowed honked, which caused me to burst into laughter... until I realized I was an idiot. Why hadn't I locked him up the night before? I needed him too.

Aw, heck.

From the front corner of the barn to the back, around the lean and back in the front of the barn, me after Honk the whole way. This interested the kid so he joined in the chase. My memory fails me at this point as I don't recall where I finally nabbed him. I do remember the kid laughing.

I decided one of these blocks of wood was going to have to work, but I now had a hormonal adolescent rooster in my hands. The kid didn't want to hold him. I needed my hands free. Into the dog house Honk went.

"HONK"

There was the missing rake beside the dog house which is also in the barn. It had been there the whole time.

My shiny, new, gleaming, expensive, sharp, forged steel head, unbreakable handle, lightweight, evenly balanced axe has gone missing. How is it possible to lose an axe? If anyone can, well, apparently it's me. I grabbed the awkward, double-sided, four foot long wooden handled, hefty old blood spattered axe. Honestly.

{Cue the theme from Mission Impossible here}

I am woman, hear me roar.

A lost-and-found rake, replacement block of wood, barely tolerable axe, and annoying rooster.

Use your imagination.

Or not.

Did I mention I had the camera on the tripod, all set up and ready to go?



No roosters were harmed in the making of this photo.

It's like picking home grown vegetables, except... not.

Honestly, although it makes for a humorous story, taking his life was not something I took lightly.

I was able to thank him for his life, knowing he had a real one. Honk did not grow up under a heat lamp, but under the warm wing of a loving hen. He spent his days scratching and singing out in the sun, interacting with the social order of the flock... so different from the lives of store-bought chickens. In taking his life, I was mindfully aware of what my food really cost. You're welcome to read more of my thoughts on this topic HERE.


You Capture - "Photographer's choice"