During the heat wave, when it was brutal outdoors, every time I opened the door, there was Charlie waiting to scurry around my leg in order to come into the house. She knew that inside she’d find cool Pippin water, and if she pecked at the smaller pieces, she’d probably be able to eat a dog kibble or two.
Walking around like she owned the place, Charlie also knew that our babies were kept in a create tucked away in the living room corner. She waddled over to pleasantly converse with them “hello there” and “top of the day.” One by one the kids came downstairs and saw a hen in our house without batting an eye. Charlie’s in the house again? Tell me something I don’t know.
Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at Wendy@SimpleThrift.com
Also, join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.