I've got some Peeping-Toms.
They're pretty cute, feathery and chatty. Since I often bring them a cup full of feed from this doorway, they have learned to wait, impatiently.
No, I'm not feeling the pressure ladies. Okay, I am. I'll be outside in a second.
The day that the Great Danes broke more boards in the backyard, I found myself herding my small flock of chickens into their chicken tractor. It takes minimal effort, I simply walk slowly with a bamboo stick and gently guide them into the tractor that can be closed easily for brief confinement, until the fence could be repaired.
Still, the girls let me know that they weren't thrilled about being "behind bars." I don't blame them.
But, they are in trouble this week. In spite of the netting surrounding our budding vegetable garden zone, the chickens were determined and found a way to get past the netting and they gobbled down everything that had been growing.
Deputy Dave was fairly angered to find all of his hard work to be gone. Both of us had tried to keep the chickens out of the garden, but I guess they feel as if this area is THEIR feeding zone. It's impossible to grow veggies out there with the chickens around. This is a dilemma of having backyard chickens.
The girls should be glad that we love their hard work at producing eggs for us every day. Otherwise, I might have had fried chicken after the garden had been destroyed. At this point, it's difficult to think about eating your "pets."
However, after a rough day, it's very nice to come home to find the chickens racing around after a grasshopper or to see a chicken resting beneath the large leaf of a plant. Chickens bring you down to Earth and help ground you in the simple things in life. There's something beautiful about a chicken and the egg that you gather from their coop. Eggs are a miraculous creation. Every day, I see the eggs from our backyard coop and am reminded of God's little gifts that are actually huge in meaning and substance.
And, I feel great when I'm standing outside among the chickens. Their gentle clucking at my appearance is rather soothing. After having chickens for approximately one year, I've learned to become a mini-expert in the different sounds of a chicken.
Even better, Howdy probably recognizes the clucking sounds more distinctly than I do. He is all ears and ready to pounce on a problem. If he hears something "odd" he races to the backyard and can barely wait for me to open the door so he can explore the yard.
It feels good, even in the middle of chaos, to have these feathered friends waiting for my simple acts of caring.
Chickens don't particularly care about where you've been or about where you're going; that's kind of nice.