To the Beach

Since the 3 B's were growing up just as summer was getting under way, they became well adapted to traveling the 90 minutes it takes to go to the beach. We spend those not so lazy summer days on Harstine Island, merrily slaving the time away on landscaping, oyster growing or gardening, all in preparation for a rare visit from friends or family.


One weekend I decided to head to the beach a day early, as the weather was good and my schedule was free. Darnell planned to drive down the next day. After a long day of enjoying the Puget Sound (working), I went inside to relax, enjoy a beer (maybe two or three), and watch a little tv. I put a blanket down on the sofa so the B’s could watch too. The B’s like tv. The next thing I knew it was 3am. The B’s were crashed on the sofa, they seemed comfortable enough, so I left them there and crawled into bed. They are such well behaved chickens – they didn’t move through the night. Fast forward to the following evening. Darnell has made it down, it’s late and I’ve got the B’s settled in on the sofa for the night. Darnell looks at me skeptically, suggests I put the chickens in the kennel (where they belong she tells me). I assure her they do not move in the night and that they LOVE the sofa. Well, as luck would have it, I was awoken by my fair wife in the night with some language I won’t repeat. B Master B had decided she wanted Darnell to know just how much she had missed her. There in the middle of the night, as my wife lay in bed sleeping, B Master B decided to fly up and land on her chest. Apparently my wife doesn’t like to be woken from a sound sleep by a chicken. That, of course, was the end of the B’s sofa slumber beach parties.





Today I wonder if the B's miss the beach or did it even make an impression? The dirt there is different, air is salty and they really enjoyed picking salal berries and huckleberry. They are still just chickens I'm reminded with a look of wtf from the wife.