Some of you (well, probably most of you) have been near to tears of late for want of a chicken post. So, a chicken post is what you will have.
Here the little critters are -- all grown up. Well, mostly grown up. As you can see, those little gray chicks didn't turn into either of the varieties we thought they might -- rather a kind of pretty and sissy little chicken. The one in the next picture that is staring right at you as if he might peck your beady little eyes out -- no wait, your eyes aren't beady; his are -- still, the one giving you the look proved himself most grown up of all by beginning to crow this past week. Mike thought he was the best looking of our chickens and so was sad about the discovery of his roosterness -- our neighbors won't be hip to his crowing jive, so he will have to leave us. It's just as well for me. Mike was out of town this past week so I was in charge of sneaking up on the fella and grabbing him, putting him in a dog carrier, and shutting him in a room in our basement each night so our neighbors wouldn't wake to his lovely calls in the early morning. Something like grabbing a hold of a rooster "just firmly with a hand over each wing," as Mike tells me, is nooo big deal to my husband, but it gives me a minor panic attack every time I have to do it. The other day Jesse was heading out the back door. Daisy was nearby so he called, "Daisy, bye!" to her. Then, as an afterthought, he paused and added in a serious and informative tone, "Daisy, bock bock." Which was cool because we both knew exactly what he was telling us -- which was, "Daisy, goodbye. I'm headed outside, and if anyone should need to know of my specific whereabouts, I will be paying a visit to the chickens."
Here he is feeding them some nice dead leaves. Chickens love to eat leaves. (Chickens do not love to eat leaves, but no matter, they never learn -- they simply continue to grab for each leafy offering, entertaining my kids for hours, in hopes that it might be something of a more grainy variety).Here Jesse and Goldie are "feeding" the chickens. They've both had their fingers pecked good and hard, but it hasn't stopped them. I'm glad my kids can have a nice healthy farmy upbringing on a normal city block.