The Phone and the Farm Store

My phone is dying. Last Thursday I couldn't get it to dock to my audio docking station, nor would it charge connected to anything. So with my battery slowly draining, I crossed everything off my to-do list for the day and headed off to the phone store.

At the store I explained my problem to the phone store guy and told him I suspected a broken or damaged pin in the docking port and asked him, “Is it repairable or is it time to upgrade to a new phone?”

“Not very likely that any of the pins are broken,” he told me, “Your docking port is probably got some pocket lint, or the pins are just dirty or corroded. Take your phone home and use a toothbrush and some alcohol and try cleaning it up.” (Note this helpful hint for your future use, everybody!)

So I took it home, cleaned it up as he suggested and plugged it into the charger. It made a satisfying “DING!” and started charging immediately. I tried it a few more times & got a ding each time. Yay! Back in business.

Next project: Buying chicken bedding at the local farm store. I loaded Bailey into the shotgun seat of the truck, hopped into the driver’s seat and headed down the road. Once on the way, I plugged my phone into the truck's docking cable so I could listen to some tunes. Nothing happened. The screen remained black. When I pushed the "home" button, nothing happened. And I noticed liquid dribbling out of the bottom of my phone. I surmised that maybe when cleaning the phone I should have sprayed the alcohol onto the toothbrush and not into the docking port. I put the phone down and said a few words that one should not say in front of one’s dog. Fortunately, Bailey is deaf.


Bailey Riding Shotgun

About halfway to the farm store, the phone emitted two dings and “What can I help you with?” along with the wavy lines appeared on the screen. I was in the presence of Siri. Either there was some major cross-connections going on inside the phone due to the alcohol, or Siri had become sentient. Whatever the case, she was very insistent and the phone continued to emit the double dings about every fifteen seconds. I finally started responding with “Shut up, Siri….Shut up, Siri….Shut up, Siri….” To which she finally responded (I swear I am NOT making this up!) “Are you talking to me?” “Yes, Siri,” I replied. “I thought so,” she said. She sounded drunk. Probably due to the alcohol. Then I tried the "home" button again and Siri finally went away. I tucked my mentally unstable phone into my pocket.



At the farm store, I immediately noticed that the pallet in front of the store where the pine shavings are normally kept was empty. The store is never busy on a weekday and when I walked into the store four or five employees were gathered around the checkout desk in the front of the store. Stevie Wonder was blasting from the store’s PA system at high volume. “Party time,” I thought. Everybody turned to look at me. “Do you STILL not have pine shavings in? I asked, “I was here last week and you said they would be in today.” “Sorry,” one of the clerks replied, “The feed truck hasn’t come in yet.” “Well, then I’ll just have to get some straw,” I grumbled. I headed for the back of the store. Stevie Wonder was at top volume in the back of the store as well. It was “Forgivingness’ First Finale” – odd choice for a farm store, I thought. Then I slowly began to realize how odd it was that no matter where I went in the store, the volume of the music was constant. And that’s when I figured out that the music was coming from my pants. I took my phone out of my pocket and hit the"home" button. Nothing happened. Repeat action. Nothing. So I hauled the straw to check out and paid for it while serenading all the gathered staff. “Stevie Wonder,” I told them. “Forgivingness’ First Finale. A great album. You should get it and play it on your PA.” This elicited no response. 

Back in the truck, I listened to the rest of Stevie Wonder and then Sturgill Simpson, The Submarines, Sufjan Stevens, and Susan Tedeschi on the way home. It seemed to be stuck on "S" artists. Bailey heard none of it nor my comments. Fortunately, as I mentioned, she is deaf.

At home, I attacked my phone with canned air and then a blow drier. The music finally stopped. At this point the only thing wrong with phone is that it charges very slowly and won’t dock well – the original problem. It’s time for an upgrade.

Fixing Those Pesky Leaking Chicken Water Founts


In 1931 the Hudson Manufacturing Company of Minneapolis obtained a patent for an improved chicken watering device “adapted to store water and automatically feed it to a drinking pan.”  It consisted of a metal sleeve that “telescoped” over a metal water reservoir and was held in place by a pin on the reservoir locking into a slot on the sleeve.  Water from the reservoir trickled into a “drinking pan” to keep the pan full as the water was consumed by the chickens.  If you have chickens you probably are using, or have used one of these metal double-walled watering founts.  All in all it was a very nifty and ingenious invention. 

But over the years I’ve said some pretty hateful things about these nifty and ingenious devices, and I’ll bet you have too.  Typically, I buy one at my local farm store and it works great for a while, but without fail it reaches a point where it starts to overflow and creates a quagmire of wet and smelly chicken bedding. That’s the point where my tradition has been to conduct a little funeral ceremony by saying a few appropriate words over the defunct fount.  This is followed by the “flinging ceremony”, where I pitch it into the nearest dark corner of the coop.  And then I go out and buy a new one.

I could never figure out why they would always fail, but one day after a few beers and some deep mulling, the answer finally occurred to me.  Before I share my epiphany with you, let me first say a few words about the physics behind how these founts work.  Yeah, I know.  Physics.  But please stay with me.  This won’t be too wonky and I’ll even throw in a magic trick!

Spa Day in the Coop


Angitou gets ready for a haircut
It has been a busy spring, but a couple of the hens have been in need of some beauty touch-ups, so Kathy and I found some time to set up our chicken spa.  Angitou the golden Polish hen recently completed a spring molt and shed and regrew all of her feathers including the feathers in her beautiful and elaborate crest.  She has a fantastic "hairdo" but unfortunately her crest now completely covers her eyes.  And if we can't see her eyes, that means she can't see much of anything.  Time for a little tonsorial remediation.  Kathy held her in her lap, while I went to work with the scissors.  Angitou was very brave, even when the scary sharp scissors were snipping right around her eyes.  Feathers, like our hair, are dead tissue, so a feathercut is just like a haircut and causes the chicken no pain.  The only thing to avoid is cutting the shaft of the feather too close to the skin, and cutting pinfeathers during a molt.  Pinfeathers are very much living tissue with a blood supply and can bleed a lot if cut.

The Birds and the Bees and the Chickens

If you’ve Googled your way to this blog looking for poultry porn, you’ve come to the wrong place.  Sorry to disappoint you, Foghorn, but this is simply an informational and scientific discussion of chicken mating.
If, however, you are offended by the concept of animals having nonchalant sex in public, this may be the wrong place for you, as well.  I grew up on a farm so animals having sex everywhereall the time was simply part of my childhood, for goodness sake!  So it’s hard for me to appreciate why anyone would make a fuss about it.  If you’re going to make a fuss, though, just leave now and remember that this is the warped and twisted blog where they talk about vile animals having disgusting relations.