We have poultry. You may have noticed them in the post somewhat below. The one with pics of The Small One running about in her skivvies and wellies.
To be specific, we have 12 birds. 2 turkeys, 4 Bard Rock chickens and 6 Rhode Island Reds.
The Small One loves her birds. So does The Man of the House.
The birds are somewhat dangerous.
Why, you may ask? Do they bite? No. Peck? Not really. Rake one fiercely with their claws? No, not at all.
They are dangerous because they spark OBSESSION.
The Man of the House felt he would like a couple of birds. He came home with 10. Then, several weeks later, he showed up with 2 turkeys. Then he began to talk of exotic chicken breeds. Silkies, Bantams, Crevecoeurs.
He wants pigs. And sheep. And cows.
The Small One wants a pony. And a cowhouse (as she calls barns). Maybe some gokes. (Goats).
A farm, my friends. The Small One and her daddy want a farm.
I would not have thought it.
In other, related news, three of the hens have begun laying. Teeny little eggs, as they are still very young. The first day The Small One found eggs, this is the conversation I had with her.
SO-Do chickens have eggs?
Me-Yes, they do.
SO-Are they in their stomach?
Me-Mmm, yeah, close enough.
SO-Do they poo them out?
Me-(laughing) Something like that.
SO-(looking quizzically at the egg in her hand) Well, can I eat it?
Naturally, I howled with laughter, then followed her in and she fried herself a tiny brown egg with lashings of butter.
(Yes, I let her cook on the stove. Yes, I keep a very close eye on her. How else will she learn?)