Frozen Water

Yes, I realize that frozen water is called ice. But in all honesty, when that ice is inside the chickens’s waterer and the fish pond, it should be called frozen water, since it should be water not ice.

Okay, so now that I’ve totally confused even a few of my own personalities, let me explain. When I think of ice, I think of things that should be ice, like in an ice cube tray or the roads after a particularly wet day and freezing evening. I do not think that a fish pond should be ice. I do not think that the waterer for the chickens should be ice. I do not think that either of these things should freeze over causing more work for me, but alas, I don’t always get my way in circumstances where nature is at work.

As we left the theater last night after watching Harry Potter 7: Part 1 again, I thought one of the people in our party was joking when he said it was only 8 degrees out. But sure enough, the sign in front of us flipped over from the time to reveal 8 degree Fahrenheit. I don’t know if this was a fluke or if the slight wind chill may have factored into the reading, but it was frakking cold. Of course, after getting home I noticed the fish pond had frozen over and the fish beneath were swimming around, so I took a random 2x4 laying on the deck and made a few holes in the ice for them to breath. Perhaps we should take our old aerator for the aquarium, stick it inside a PVC pipe and use that for oxygen? I don’t know, we’ll see how rambitious I get this morning.

The poor chickens on the other hand will have to be cared for a little more, as I never did get around to making the light-bulb-in-a-tin-can-inside-a-cinderblock-water-heating-device I was thinking about since last winter. Instead I’ll have to haul the waterer into the utility sink, thaw it out enough to open it up, take out the ice, and refill about halfway. Ugh. I really don’t like freezing temperatures. Snow, yes. But ice? Cursed be thy name!