Sunday was warm enough for us to pull out the porch tables from storage and set them up. As long as it’s not snowing or raining, we sure do like to eat our meals outside. There’s just something about coming together at the end of the day in what’s left of the remaining sunlight, eating food and catching up with each other.
Of course, this means that we eat many of our dinners with chickens milling around our feet. I have to admit, that part of this is due to my “accidental” dropping of crumbs of bread or pasta.
How can I not? They seem so grateful, how pleasant it is to have your cooking appreciated even if it is by a chicken. At the table, our family recounts what information we have to share, while our chickens cluck in agreement, trying to join our conversation.
“Mom, my AP History test is this Wednesday.”
“Crup, crup.”
Charlie loves to patiently sit under my chair (she knows that I usually have an extra special treat for her.)
Yes, there is a chicken in there.
And Zelda, in her new manly, manner can’t decide if she wants to delicately nip the bread from my fingers or stab me while attempting to wrestle it away.
Manly Zelda
I don’t mind the chickens, in fact, our birds are simply an extension of the family – all are welcomed at the table. The way we see it, regardless of the species, at the end of the day, our flock comes together as our flock comes together.
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
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.
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