Sunday

Sunrise in Madison is at 7:04 right now (and sunset is a few minutes after 7 in the evening). We are entering my beloved half year of long days.

I'm up early today. Snowdrop is sleeping over and I have stuff to do before the little one stirs.

Cheeper care, chick care for one. Oh, but the walk to the barn is lovely just at dawn!






And good morning to you as well, little cheeps!





A few minutes later, the bedroom door opens and, bathed in the sun that is streaming into the landing, there appears a little person, full of radiant smiles.

A quick breakfast snack and she is ready to play.






Oh, but Snowdrop, we have things to do!

Is there a child on this planet that does not enjoy helping mix ingredients? Our first cooking project is her currently preferred breakfast here: pancakes with bacon and fruit.





But you must get dressed before we eat!
Can I have ribbons in my hair?
Of course.
Ed comments -- honestly, it must be genetic. She actually cares about what she wears and how she looks!

Yes she does.





While I finish up breakfast prep, Ed embarks on a wee project. Last night, he and I googled to see if young chicks need toys. I'd commented that they were chasing each other like wild children on a playground and that perhaps it would be good to give them distractions! Indeed! The chicken patrol has choice words on the Internet for people who do not provide some excitement in the cheep box! The mama hen would be constantly teaching, pushing, prodding her young babes! Why aren't you??

Someone suggested throwing in a toilet paper tube and some marbles. We haven't either on hand, and so Ed and Snowdrop make rolls out of colorful index cards. I don't have kid scissors, but she seems to manage to keep up with Mr. Do-It-Yourself just fine.






...while the baby cheeps huddle and consider the new addition to the box.






Snowdrop urges them to get rolling, but they are clearly processing things at their own chicken speed.





Hey, you two! Breakfast!






And it seems so appropriate, given books on the topic and chickens sporting that name that afterwards, we should make (pink, of course) cupcakes!






But first -- grandma, I'd like pig tails now.
Ed has a point.






Filling the cupcake forms...






And then she wants to make more chicken toys!






A bevy of towers!






Chicken care, chicken watching -- they do have thier limits. There are other things in life equally compelling (aren't there?)!






I take Snowdrop home  and in the early afternoon, Ed and I take advantage of the incredibly beautiful day (high of 55F, or 13C) and we take our discs to play disc golf. The sound of mating cranes is with us for a good part of the game.






The sun is warm, the skies are a brilliant blue...






And at the farmhouse, the cheeps wait. And eat and poop and sleep and drink water.






And... fly! Oh dear.






Evening. The young family comes for dinner. Snowdrop and I frost the cupcakes. Pink! (Made of beet juice.)






And now she wants to cut out toys for chicks again.
Ahah never says no.






Dinner...






Cupcakes...






And the day draws to a close. Not without emotion. Snowdrop is very expressive. (Overheard: when a disappointment strikes, the little girl announces -- I am a little miserable!) It's hard to stop the flow of good play. I get it. Still, the wheels move us forward. In a good way. In the best of ways.

Saturday

Ed can't wait for mail delivery today. This guy who normally shuns and scorns items rushed to the farmhouse from Amazon is asking repeatedly if I think a package will be delivered today and if so, how soon? And when indeed it is delivered, he tears open the box and grins with satisfaction. It is the world's cheapest tripod. ($11 in case you're curious.)

Oh, we already have a tripod set up to regulate the height of the heating source over the chick box. This one is for Ed's (equally cheap) phone: he's testing a 24/7 nest cam idea. Not that watching chicks on a screen is any more exciting than watching them in person, but give Ed a technology setup opportunity and he perks up.

Me, I've fallen into the role of the caregiver (because the other caregiver in this household is a tad laidback in attending to the essentials, such as picking out poop at regular intervals). Good morning, babes! Look, it's a sunny day!






They do look. First, with a stretch...






Then with a jump...






 What's beyond that wall??






A step up from the feeding station...






How long before they can jump right out of the box? I must remind Ed to set up the next enclosure -- a bigger play area for the adventurous girls!

Breakfast in the sun room.






And yes, it is a beautifully sunny day -- skies that only the Upper Midwest can deliver on a regular basis in March!

(From behind the barn...)





One could get lost in the new chick routine. It's endlessly fascinating but ultimately, at the end of the day, you would have to admit to yourself that perhaps picking up little poops all day long isn't the best use of your time. I suppose I realized that I was a bit over the edge when on my morning run to the barn, I stopped and went to great trouble to secure just the right twig from one of our peach trees to put into the chick box for their amusement.

A few more minutes of watching them eat, drink...






... poop and nap...






... and Ed and I are off. We need a good hike! But where?

We have a novel and somewhat clever idea (at least we start off thinking it's clever): why not go to our favorite nearby hiking spot -- the Brooklyn Wildlife Area -- but approach it from the back end? Rather than hiking the Ice Age trail that runs through it, why not search for the trout stream we learned about just recently?

We study the maps and plunge into the marsh thicket. It's not easy to go off trail when hiking in these parts. It tends to be rough going and you may reach impenetrable growth at the first turn.





But, eventually we come to the trout stream. It's just lovely!





We can see the sandy bottom and I tell Ed that in a year or two, Snowdrop will surely love wading in this clear stream of water (first, she has to be tough enough to survive the hike).






We try to stick with clearings, but the fact is, it's easy to get lost here and after an hour of thrashing about, we turn back.





After all, the little chicks are waiting for my attention.

Oh! They seem content on their own!





I can't believe they're just six days old! So independent! And the feathers are coming in so quickly!

It's like watching a grandkid grow up, only at a hundred times the pace!

Speaking of grandkid, Snowdrop is with up tonight and she arrives with a smile on her face and a doll in her hand.






(Said doll -- Peg, from her favorite PBS show -- needs to see the chicks!)






Hi Snowdrop and Peg!





As usual, when she is here for just one night, we have a pizza party. Recently, we've been playing the game of "broccoli comes first" and as a result,  Snowdrop has grown quite fond of broccoli. Or at least she eats it because our game requires that she have affection for it. Grandmothers are such horrible manipulators.

(Look at that sunshine streaming in, even as we eat just before 7!)






Ed gets up to put away the big girls in the barn. She begs to go with him. Of course you can go, little one.





Because the ritual of putting the cheepers away is fraught with possible dangers and dramatic twists and turns, I am never quite sure how everyone will look on the return.

But, they always look like this: full of smiles and chortles and good feelings.





Goodnight, cheepers, goodnight child, goodnight little ones where ever you are...

Friday

I wake up early, go down and check on the chicks. I watch them, change the height of the lamp, change the water (which is cluttered with wood shavings, because guess what -- the little monsters are starting to scratch the "soil"), add food. And I watch.

Upstairs again -- wanting that last hour of sleep, I mutter to a stirring Ed: you know we're going to need a bigger coop.

Fully awake now, we toss the pros and cons, back and forth. It is nearly a transcript of our discussion surrounding the dining room table: Ed asks -- can't we make do with what's there?  Don't rush to buy the latest, best model.

Still, as I list the cons of making do -- we'd be crowding them (they like sleeping side by side!), there aren't enough nesting boxes (they can share!), the winter, when they stay there longer, may get on their nerves (we probably wont have all six around by next winter!), etc. -- Ed is starting to waver.

Unfortunately, he tells me, you're making some good points. Can we just wait and see?

The wait and see approach is not one I embrace in the best of circumstances. In this case, I point out that if the weather is nice, they may be going out in less than two months. And it takes time to find, order and build a hen house.

In the meantime, the innocent chicks just do their thing: eat, drink, poop and sleep. But when they startle, they jump up high! These girls will be flying in no time!

For now, quiet reigns.






And little Cupcake, the one too in love with eating, finds a perfect spot to rest...






We eat breakfast in their company, meaning in the sun room.






And then Ed has work meetings and I have groceries to get and the little cheeps are left to fend and the big girls walk the farmette land and look for places where the soil is moist and rich with the best that life has to offer.






In the afternoon, Snowdrop is with us of course and yes, she loves her visits with Cupcake, Pepper and Tomato. No handling yet. We're all getting used to each other.






The three babes watch her as she cavorts around their small home.






Happy chickens, happy girl. All's right with the world!






(This calls for a story!)






As Snowdrop launches into a tale that involves the purchase of macarons, I hear words such as "expensive" floating around. Time to give her a wallet with (toy) money and a credit card. I tell her she can now buy the expensive macaron. I finish off with a strong statement about the need to have money in the bank, earned with hard work before flying loose with the credit card, but I think that part was lost on her.






Evening. Over a steaming bowl of red lentils, Ed tells me -- I've thought of a solution to our coop problem: I'll build an addition to the existing structure!

For nearly every problem there is a modest solution. One acceptable to both of us. I write this sitting at the simple yet beautiful table added to our kitchen just a few weeks back.