Fifteen Photos of Fifteen Chickens

The human population of our home is now so well outnumbered as to leave no doubt about who/what is in charge, with the long-anticipated arrival of Will's chicks. You might recall that this is Will's own project--she proposed the idea and received permission, picked out exactly which breeds of which sexes from which hatchery she wanted to order (I am not personally comfortable with ordering chicks by mail, but I am not my child, alas), and is the final authority on their care (I wanted to start letting the chicks outside in our small coop, for instance, but was overruled--"The care sheet says four weeks," she decided). She has a lot of help, of course, especially in these early days, but there's plenty of time later to negotiate our roles and benefits as primary investors when her egg business gets going.

For now, however, we have thirteen (you may remember that we ordered fifteen chicks--our order was shorted by one, and one died the day after they arrived. This was super sad, but also a relief to the adult human population, as we needed seventeen chickens even less than we need fifteen chickens) beautiful, sweet, funny babies to adore.

Knowing us as you do, you will not be surprised to learn that we have spent the past week doing "chick portraits" every day. I have a truly shocking number of photographs of our chicks, and I am going to insist on showing you every single photo, on account of I am besotted by these babies, but in order to not stretch your patience too far, I'll confine myself to fifteen photos per post, in honor of our total flock number (can't forget our Fluffball and Arrow, now can we?). I'll also try to give you their names, although to be honest, only the kids can really tell them all apart, and I'm pretty sure that sometimes they're just making that up:

I'd like you to meet Featherbutt. 

This is Hermione. 

Here is Dan Quayle.

And this is Marshmallow.

I believe that this is Spot.

And here is Sun.

That's a few of our chicks. There are many more to come.

Why, you might ask, did I permit my child to buy thirteen more chickens, when there are only four people in our family? That is a fair question, Friends. Matt and I don't want fifteen chickens. Frankly, if these thirteen are as friendly and tame as the first two, I don't know how we're going to manage so much as walking unmolested in our yard, much less backing out of the driveway (I already have to station a kid outside the garage when I back out, to keep clueless chickens and carefree cats from wandering behind my wheels).

Seriously, fair questions all. And yet, the answer is also an easy one.

Why, you might ask? This is why:


The look on that kid's face? That kid who usually finds it such a struggle to get outside her own head, to let her tender heart show? That look is worth a lot more than just fifteen chickens.