Growing Up and Moving Out
Did you think I was talking about my kids? Did you know we started the school year yesterday and I sent the Cowboy, my little Cowboy, my little big-boy, off to K3? That’s not what this post is about. It still squeezes my heart too much for me to write about. And we’re not kicking them out just yet.
But there was other relocations this weekend as well.
Our chicks have officially moved from the brooder house to the field pen.
From their sheltered home under the lean to with solid walls and a soothing fan to the green grass and fresh air of the elements.
It was a whole family affair. Like just about everything around here.
The Cowboy worked the gate on the transport cage. I take back anything I might ever have said about Mr. Fix-It being impatient. You don’t know patience until you’ve had to depend on a 3 yr old when you’re hands are full of live chickens.
The Ladybug handled the little guys.
And Speedracer…well, he was there for moral support.
Now part of our daily chores is for Mr. Fix-It to move the pen each morning and feed them. Then the kids and I check their water and feed them again in the evening when we get home.
They get fresh grass, fresh bugs, fresh scenery each day.
And we get chicken pot pie in a few more weeks.
Sounds like a good deal to me!
What a crew!!!! I really love how everyone has a job and feels a part of the farm. That creates such ownership and responsibility for the little ones. Oh! So Cute!!!!
I’m convinced that eventually they’ll actually be a big help. Right now…well, at least they’re the comic relief! 🙂
Hello Jamie. I have been waiting on your latest post – and you did not disappoint. You have such a great way of expressing yourself.
Now, as a mother, I could not help but notice – are the boots on the wrong feet of your littlest cowboy? I am sorry – I knew those eyes did not look right! Me and my perfect world. Rachel will tell you I don’t miss a thing.
I am still sending your little stories to my stepmother for her enjoyment. What a wonderful gift to share. Love, Brenda Morris
So glad you stopped by!
And yes, I don’t even fight the right foot battle with their boots. They’re all so broken in they can’t tell the difference when they’re wearing them and I cave to the ease of “do it yourself.” It’s funny you mention it because I don’t even notice half the time anymore, but looking at the pictures with new eyes it makes me laugh. I think that’s a scrapbook page story right there! 🙂