Well yes, Rosewood, it should go as you say, and that's what I try and try and try to do. Until my fingers are forzen, tears fill my eyes and I slice myself with the utility knife because it's dark, I'm weeping and can't see what I'm doing. Tears of frustration, you understand. While the chickens stand shoulder to shoulder, their starving little faces pressed oto the wire as they telepathically reach out to me "please don't make us be hungry any longer, we are weak and fading..." It's a crock of course, they are fat and picky about what they eat and what they reject, but still, it adds pressure as I fumble with that miserable bag.
Western Canada Poultry Swap