It’s to catch baby chickens. Screw the well thought out design and placement. Forget the delicate nuances of hue, shade, of glazes and brushwork. Forget all the hours I pore over every square inch of a canvas to get just the right effect. Where there are baby chicks, there is a need to catch the little fluffballs and it isn’t very easy. I didn’t know after only 2 weeks of living on this planet that the adorable motherless so and sos would be able to fly out of the baby pool. Their wings are like, what, an inch and a half long? What is this? Mardi Gras? I haven’t gotten any beads!
So never mind why I started out painting my so-called art. You have total chaos in the TV room. Chicks jumping, screaming and hollering everywhere. You grab 2 pieces of priceless art. Okay. There’s a price on them. Sue me. Holding said precious art, you herd the little monsters into a corner. Yes. There’s a lot of poop involved. Cornered, you can scoop them up one by one. Yeah. They’ve figured out if they can do it once they can do it again. At last. I know why I was given this precious gift from God. Thank you God.
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