Yesterday when I visited the chicken yard, all twenty-five chickens were gasping for breath with their poor little beaks hanging open awkwardly and their eyes mirroring an other-worldly stare. It’s been that way for the last two months and though I daily supply my birds with a kiddie swimming pool filled with fresh somewhat cool water, by noon or so the heat (if that’s an adequate descriptive term of this stuff) is on, and no amount of shade can deter it or help it. The pure misery of an extreme Louisiana summer is at full force and admittedly, I’m sick and tired of it. It started early and promises to end late. The chickens and I are tired of it.