When I looked out the window this morning, my first thought was that the swales and pond weren’t doing their job.
The chickens squawked and Pecky was crowed angrily, at least it seemed that way to me.
I couldn’t blame them. I’d be unhappy if my home was filled with water too.
Ray and I moved them to higher ground and tried our best to appease them with extra food and kitchen scraps.
The older gals were even more flooded but at least they were able to climb up into the coop to stay dry.
All the leghorns have is a tarp.
After we got them situated and soothed their ruffled and wet feathers, I went out to see what was going on with the swales.
Why weren’t they working the way they should? What had gone wrong?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing had gone wrong. In the wee hours it had started to rain, and by the time we woke up, it had rained over 4 inches.
Our swales were full and our chickens were victims of a good drenching.
The North swale surged into the South swale, just as it should.
The South swale was full and streamed into the pond, also full.
Then, the water had nowhere to go but out to the road.
Hence, the river.
Poor Blue didn’t have a tarp. It never dawned on her tiny chicken brain to take cover under a tree or in the little house we have for her in the garden. She just stood eating amaranth and clucking.
Joe splashed and played in the water, excited by the creek meandering to our road and the giant puddles in the yard.
He pointed out a colony of ants frantically climbing blades of grass in a desperate attempt to get to dry land. Curious, Joe and I did some googling to learn more about these strange (ant)ics.
Apparently, it’s a survival instinct. The worker ants work together to form a raft or a bridge to get the rest of the colony and queen to safety.
Our planned lessons for the day were put aside to learn all about floods, storms and other weather events as well as strange ant behaviour.
So we spent a long time looking through weather books and reading about all kinds of storms.
Raining, pouring down
Water swirling ’round
All the hens are soaked
But none of them have croaked