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I was looking over my recent posts this morning and realized how remiss i have been in the wanna-be farming department.  We do have things going on around here.  I told you about my chicks a while back.  Well, here they are about a week ago: When i realized my mistake, i grabbed my camera and went out to the chicken coop at 5:26 a.m., in the pitch black darkness and took pictures.  Here are the chicks - or as many of them as i could get in the camera at one time.  The blond ones (the buff orpingtons) are for us to keep.  The others are for a friend. This is Arne (Arne means eagle in one of the Scandinavian languages, and it's just funny to name a chicken, "Eagle.")  Pronounced Arnee.   This picture is a little blurry, but even with the blur, i think you can see that he is a truly gorgeous boy. This is my broody hen.  She's broody every time she sees an egg.  In this picture, she's studiously brooding a golf ball, but it is very l...

I've been wanting to tell you this little story for a few days, but first i need to explain a little bit about chickens. I have two full grown roosters.    Rocky is the oldest, the head honcho.  He has proven himself as the great protector, food finder, and romancer. Edgar is the junior rooster, most likely a son of Rocky.  He's really just reached maturity, and he's definitely still learning the ropes.   Now i need to explain about the prime directive.  God made chicken brains very small, but He packed information in there very efficiently.  In the brain of a rooster, He packed the importance of watching for danger, looking for food, and in both cases, warning or calling to then hens to let them know what's going on.  If you ever see this exchange, it's very cute. But most dominant in the mind of a rooster, is the prime directive, the importance of keeping hens fertile, which isn't nearly as cute.  Also, in the social order...