Is there anything sweeter than chick days? They are little and adorable. There is bird song in our home all hours of the day. Gentle, joyous chirping from the closed guest room door. Their personalities begin to emerge. Namaste is sweet and content to stay in my hand. Yoga likes to sit and watch me do yoga. Buttercup is dead set on escape. And Bobbi and Chi Chi (Maryjane named them) are frantic. The unnamed Marans and the owl-like Araucana just follow the crowd.
The grass is growing higher in their chicken yard and a huge pile of old compost waits for their sing song clucking and digging. I can see them in my mind, rolling, gossiping, kicking up dirt in their luxurious dust baths. The sounds of an urban farm are soothing against the traffic. And inside the warm guest room with its red light glow holds little souls new here and joy in every new feather.