I say this apologetically, I love watching my chickens.
I also love being with my goats, and these are not to the exclusion of other activities, or the company of other beings. But, for example, when Geoff and I were discussing my _brilliant_ career, he asked, "Well, what makes you happy? You should do that." And I replied, sincerely, apologetically, "I'm happy watching chickens, and goats." And I even reflected for a moment, hopefully imagining a respectable job, with salary and benefits, where I could watch chickens, and goats, and children, then write, photograph, and share my musings...
Recently the traffic to Chickenblog has been steadily climbing, and even enjoyed some spikes. Lots of visits, or "hits." It was, I admit, a thrill. There are few tangible signs of success in blogging, especially without sponsors. Following the statistics is both useful, and self-defeating, and I admit the numbers begin to matter. A lot. Well, I thought it mattered... it turns out that even though I believed that the counter was not including my own visits to the blog, it turns out that by some glitch, my own visits to posts were being counted. Since I have been doing a great deal of archive preservation for the blog, it looked as though traffic was on the rise. Then it came to my attention that the high number of visits to Chickenblog were not due to Sudden Onset Renown, but to my own navel gazing.
Confession, they say, is good for the soul. It feels humbling, frustrating, and embarrassing, and I cannot, or dare not, ponder how this can be good for my soul.