Farm Life In Pictures

Every day, the boys spend time at the barn.  Usually it is in the afternoon, when the boys gather the eggs.  They love it down there and so do their cousins.  I think they'd all stay down there permanently if we'd let them.

Will really loves the chickens.  He pets them.  Like they're a cat.  Or a puppy.  Except, you know, they're not.

Gathering.  As carefully as they can.  Nevertheless, a few always end up cracked.  On a side note, do you know that chickens love to eat the cracked eggs?  Which would make them cannibals, right?  

Will stalks the chickens.  He follows them around.  He clucks. He claps his hands. He smacks his lips.  He pushes them along with a pat on the behind.  

Boys have no respect for the "labor" process.  Seriously.  Sam gently lifts the hens up and pulls the eggs out from underneath them before they even leave their nest.  No patience.  No waiting for her to finish and take a little rest before hoping off the prize.  Poor little mama.

Sam is a pro at picking the hens up and has taught everyone else the proper way to do it.  Our chickens are so accustomed to being picked up and carried, they stop and squat down when they see the boys coming as if to say, "Okay.  Here we go again.  Go ahead.  Pick me up.  Show all your friends what a brave little chicken farmer you are.  Go ahead.  Here, I'll even squat down for you to make it easier."

Sam, the teacher, showing Cade and Cannon how it's done.  I think I may be the Mama of a future president of the FFA.  I'm so proud.  Bring on the blazer.

This picture scares the *&$% out of me.  All those wings flapping and birds flying all over the place.  Forget about it.  I was a mess.  On a side note, the picture is completely out of focus because a.) Will was running and the chickens were flapping all over the place and b.)  I was stumbling backwards.  Stumbling and screaming for my life.

Stirring them up.  Stalking.  Looking for the perfect one to grab.  The red boots make him cocky.

My knee baby holding the prize.  We are collecting about 75 a day now.

Poor Landry.  Doing what it takes to hang with the boys.  Jack's jeans and shoes.  Sam's shirt.  Kicking dirt.  Nailing all things masculine.  It's tough being the only girl.

Jody shows Cade how to hold her the right way.

And he does it.  A little nervous, but he does it.  On a side note, I'm pretty sure you couldn't have stuck a ten penny nail up his behind at this moment. 

Cannon gets a turn.  On another side note, Cannon had to receive the dreaded you can't spike a chicken like a football lecture shortly after this picture was taken.  Thankfully, our chickens are friendly and resilient.

I was instructed to take this picture so they could show their teacher.  Of course, I obliged.  This is for Mrs. Morris.

Don't even think about leaving the littlest farm boy out of all that chicken holding.

Carefully taking his turn.

So happy.  Our chickens are well loved.  Very well loved.  Especially by Will.

Uh oh.  She escapes.

He really needed another turn.  

He needed another turn so he could demonstrate his look how gently I can put her down move.

Look who's gotten a little more confident.  "Look at us!  Oh, one hand! One hand!"  Professional chicken handlers.

They all know to wash their hands immediately after handling the chickens and eggs.  Now if I could only get them to clean their boots before they walk up on my porch.

Will always sneaks over to see Crawford before we head home.

He really loves her and her horse crew cut/mullet .

Farm life is wonderful.  Exciting, simple and absolutely wonderful.