Yesterday as the sun shone, I spotted two red-breasted robins hopping around in our front yard. I
thought, Finally, spring is here! A leftover from growing up in northern climes, where the arrival of the
robin means the worst of winter has passed. Here in Alabama, I actually have spotted robins here and
there throughout the winter—after all, we are in the South, birds’ winter destination.
My husband has gotten rather attached to our chickens, relating observations of their behavior and
amusing incidents. He is known for wanting less animals, dreading the spring influx of babies, and eager
to pass on any creature he can persuade me to let go of. So I was taken aback a few weeks ago when I
gave away three young cockerels to a neighboring farm family. I had double-checked with DJ ahead of
time, yet afterwards he lamented their passing. (To be fair, as I read this account aloud to him, he
objects that the word “lamented” is too strong to describe his reaction.) He had noticed they each had
developed their family group of hens and he thought they helped protect them. Possibly so. Maybe
being busy with their own groups of hens, they didn’t have time or attention to be aggressive toward
people. At least so far, we hadn’t had issues with them except lots of early-morning crowing which some
of our family was less than appreciative of. We did save DJ’s favorite, though, a splendid cross of shiny
speckled grey body topped by shimmering gold neck and crest. Our oldest granddaughter and I named
him King Tut, after the resplendent Egyptian king discovered some years back in a golden sarcophagus.
The most similar hen we dubbed Nefertiti.
Our older daughter Susannah’s family is moving further out into the country in a few weeks, still several
hours away from us but at least not farther than they had been. Although our daughter had been
adamant for years that they were never going to take on animals beyond a dog, they now have a kitten
and are about to get their second dog. A few days ago, Susannah surprised me by mentioning that
maybe someday, after they are well settled in their new place, they might think about keeping a few
hens for fresh eggs. Kept in an enclosed portable coop, safe from dogs and other predators. Whenever
they come for a visit, our oldest granddaughter Ella and grandson JW are eager to find “their” chickens,
Blondie and Dominique. Maybe eventually these two will actually leave to help start another little flock,
along with a few of our younger hens. Wonders never cease.