Although so far Isabel has managed to continue to delay motherhood, so no additional kids, other babies have arrived at the farm in the past few weeks. The same day Honeysuckle kidded, we had picked up a furrily-soft brown six-week-old bunny raised with love by a local teen girl. We think “Kennedy” is a girl, but need to take her back to the breeder for another check to be sure. Then, a couple days before horse club a few Saturdays ago (YES, we actually got to meet this month, for the first time since March!) Mama Hen and her 10 chicks arrived. Our neighbor had decided his chickens were too much work and invited us to come get whatever we wanted from his stock. For some months, I had been wishing to add to our free-rangers, so I was happy to take him up on it. DJ, less so. We went over just after dark to raid Mr. W’s hen house. “Another one?” DJ asked with each hen added to our cage, while Mr. W urged, “Please, I wish you would just take them all!” Squishing through the mushy waste on the bottom of their stationary coop, I remembered all the reasons I prefer free range chickens or, at least, mobile coops. No fuss, no mess, just move the coop over a few feet. No clean-up necessary, just some fresh fertilizer for that spot in the yard. Although, truth be told, I’m still trying to get the last hardware-cloth floor panel taken out of our mobile coop, as it collects waste instead of letting it fall to the ground. Originally our coop was designed as a stand-alone, and for security we shut the chickens in the top part each night. Now that we keep it open within an electrified poultry netting fence, the floor is merely a nuisance. We ended up with four more hens to add to the free-rangers (two of them Americaunas, dubbed “Easter Eggers” for their production of pre-colored eggs) and two red hens flecked with white. We also got four adolescent hatchlings from Mama Hen’s first round, earlier in the summer. I naturally couldn’t resist Mama Hen herself, a black hen resembling our “Fancy”, along with the ten chicks from her second round—three dark fluffy babies plus seven blonde fuzzies who must surely have hatched from adopted eggs. The first night, I trimmed all the birds’ flight feathers to keep them nearby until accustomed to their new home. With their next molt, they will replace those feathers and once again be flight ready. The next day, Mr. W asked how many eggs we’d gotten. At that point, we had gotten a few in the stall where I’d parked the hens to start with. Since the new hens started free-ranging, however, I don’t think we’ve found any of their eggs, certainly not any of the colored “Easter” eggs I was looking forward to. Either they are really good at hiding their nests, or our dogs are even better at ferreting out free meals. At least the chickens have stayed on our place. DJ had been concerned they would want to return to their erstwhile home with our neighbor and their own rooster. The four half-grown chickens (three black probably-hens, and one red/black that I fear is a rooster) I added to the poultry-netting pen. They have formed their own sub-group, avoiding Charlie our rooster and our three red hens as much as possible. They were actually hatched on our farm, as Mama Hen chose to nest in the trees bordering our horse pasture. Months ago, I helped Mr. W’s wife, daughter and granddaughter herd the flock of tiny chicks back through the fence to their own yard. Mr. W told DJ that more recently he had found Mama Hen valiantly defending her second round of chicks from attack by our guineas, who disputed their right to inhabit our pasture. I kept Mama Hen and the babies in a big cage until we could run chicken wire around our “doghouse” pen, which has sheltered everything from dogs to goats to chickens through the years. With babies on the farm and children coming for horse club, I planned a petting zoo in our playpen fence so visitors could hold the new little goats, bunny and chicks. I didn’t realize how effectively protective Mama Hen was, however. After several defensive pecks, I decided that instead of cuddling sweet baby chicks, the children would get to observe Mama and babies through the fence. The next morning before church, I saw some of the chicks escaping the pen, darting under the new chicken wire lining and through the outside fence. As I was trying to get them to safety before one of the dogs or our barn cat discovered them, I once again experienced Mama Hen’s defense of her babies. Trying to escape me, they would press up against the fence, but they couldn’t get through to their mama. However, trying to reach through the outside wooden part of the fence was hard. Every time I almost had a chick, their mama would peck me through the holes of the chicken wire. Ouch! I started thinking about how Jesus talked about the Father wanting to shelter us under His wings, like a mother hen with her chicks. I realized I always thought of that just as a peaceful comforting image. I never really thought about it as God as our Defender, like this Mama hen! The Enemy better WATCH OUT because God’s got our back! We finally got all the chicks back in and the fence repaired before we left.