Dear reader, it has been a very long time. And if you are neurotic and worry and invent all sorts of horrific scenarios in your imagination like I do, I'm sure you are a mess by now. I would like to end radio silence and put your fears to rest. First off, the chickens are alive - all six, despite Mr. BCF's expectations (he suggested I get 6 because secretly he thought only 3 would live - chicken insurance, if you will). They are well and enjoying the summer. They appear to be full grown although they aren't laying eggs yet. BCF jr. has fallen into a great groove with the girls; he faithfully gets up each day and before anything else, pajamas still on, he runs to the back of the yard, lets the ramp down and opens the door so they can run around. He checks their food and water and fills their new "grown up" feeder with layer feed (no more greasy kid's stuff for them). He is very diligent about not leaving them unattended for too long. In his words. "Eagles make lousy babysitters". Throughout the day we toss out bits of veg and fruit for "chicken treats". It's an adventure to find out what they like and don't like. It's also fun to watch them play tug of war with slices of tomatoes or fight over a grape. Did I mention we only get 2 TV stations?
When we come in the gate there are bells that ring. That usually prompt one of the girls to be "guard chicken" at race, or rather waddle quickly to our feet. I'm not sure if it is a territory thing or not. I'd like to think she is greeting us because she missed us soooo much.
At night, the girls go upstairs on their own and we put up the ramp and close up the door. BCFjr has to count all 6 to make sure. We always have to pray that God will keep the chickens alive. Simple prayer. Simple life.
