RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Sunday, June 6

SONG OF THE DAY: Mukadzi Wangu Ndomuda

My girlfriend got a whole bunch of chicks two months back, and raised them in her bathroom. I've always just gotten pullets because I don't like dealing with chick death, but she handled the ups and downs of that shit pretty well. Now all of them are pullet-sized and in the pen with her grown hens from last year, plus two goats, and two frilly geese. I was supposed to get some of them, but I don't have a coop, and there's a couple foxes living right behind the house, and fuckin' wood is expensive as fuck, so building the type of coop I'd like to build ain't feasible right now. And if I can't build that type of coop, I'd rather not expensively feed a fox that seems just as happy with my compost pit for a whole lot cheaper.
Nonetheless, there's great joy in taking a small soup pot full of scratch and feed and scattering it in the pen, and watching the chickens all wandering around, tussling, avoiding goat heads and angry geese. I remember reading that watching fish tanks were supposed to be a great meditative act, but I gotta believe watching a bunch of chickens just wander around a pen is some of the same. Back in the day, my favorite shit at the old Bird Tribe Compound was just sitting there watching the flock politics of a bunch of chickens. And now my girlfriend's compound pen has like twenty of those fuckers, bobbing around, each one with their own weird personalities. Pure country shit, sitting there sipping on something, meditating about watching chickens, both you and the chickens (and goats and geese) all clamoring for shade, because the world is hot as fuck, and does not care.

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