tched cotton gloves with a few burrs stuck to them.It's cold andI can see my breath. The barnyard dung is covered in a thin veil of frost
customize jordan, soon to be steaming as the cows milked willbe stepping out into themorning.Iam anxiousto be done with chores. I want to callmy horse up from the pasture and go for a ride. Aunt Janet calls out one last task. Chicken coop. Facing the mean rooster is no easy task and I am groaning.I look around and don't see himnor have I heardhis obnoxious crowforawhile. Thinking the coast is clear Iopen the coop door only to haveRambo rooster comecharging andsquawking towards mefrom the yard above the coop. Grabbing a stick Iwave it in his general direction in hopes of hittinghim. Ishimmyin the coop and slam therattle trapdoor with the hens allin apanic and me out of breath,back against the door,stick in hand, shaking interror. Every morning itwasthe same thing. Rambo rooster thinks I'm going to harm his sweet harem and he must attack the rag tag henkiller.Grandma taught me tosing to the hens to calm them down, so I sing what she sings, "You are my sunshine
pink and black nike high heels, my only sunshine, you make me happy...) The hens quiet down enough for meto steal their unborn babies. My last taskof the morning before I can ride is to get out of the hen house
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