When I was growing up, one of my favorite lawn jobs was running the string trimmer, which for us was a Poulan Weedeater. That thing was indestructible and it would eat the mess out of tall grass, weeds, and as I found out once the hard way, ankles. I'd do the "weedeating" in the yard while Dad mowed the grass. With the edging and trimming done, he had an easier time on the lawnmower, not having to make all those close cuts and circling back and whatnot. And eliminating unnecessary time on the mower on that big lawn was a big concern of ours. Less time mowing meant more time fishing.
Now I'm the one who has to run both the mower and the trimmer. My son, Muleshoe, isn't old enough yet to help out in the yard. And there's just something not right about having The Wife out there on the mower or trimming the weeds back. Call me old fashioned, but I'm content managing the outside of the house while she manages the inside. Despite her degree in horticulture, she seems to prefer the inside work, as well, especially in our 100-degree heat as of late.
I think I may have found help with my weedeating, though. Our little flock of backyard chickens, known as Miss Lucy and the Hash Browns, apparently love to pick the weeds in the flower beds around the house. We discovered this quite by accident one afternoon when we let them out to free range around the backyard. We let them out of their cage and they got right to work. They headed straight for the rose beds beneath the breakfast room and started picking out the weeds one by one.
I'm looking into exactly how many chickens I'd need to keep the whole yard picked clean, all 10 acres of it. I'm pretty sure that'd be more chickens than I'd be comfortable with and would probably involve a small herd of goats, as well. But it's something to think about.
Because less time on the mower and using the trimmer means more time for fishing. If I could just keep them from eating all my worms.

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