So, I just made a quill out of a chicken feather. The chicken from whence it came died last summer while I was in China, helping out the widows and orphans (sort of). I feel that it is a tribute to Whiskers’ memory to make use of her last memento in a way that will keep her close to my heart, and —
Also, I wanted a quill.
I wrote part of a letter in it. Well, actually, it’s more like:
. . . The weather has been fairly pleasant lately. I wore my straw sun hat with the black bow for the first time this year, and on Friday I went out without a coat —
HEY!! LOOK!! I MADE A QUILL OUT OF A CHICKEN FEATHER!!!!!! ISN’T THAT COOL?!?!?!?!
Though today was wet. It’s always the days that it actually rains that I forget my umbrella . . .
Speaking of chickens, though, I’ve finally succeeded in relocating the chicks out of my room. Hallelujah! And I mean that. The older hens aren’t sure what to do with these callow newcomers, but other than a little pecking if they get too close, they keep to themselves. The bloody massacre that I feared has not taken place as of yet. Hallelujah.