You give us beautiful and delicious eggs every day. Each of you have gorgeous feathers and distinct personalities. Angel, you are so lovely with Keats. You're his favorite. Lucy, you love to follow me around and take treats quite gently from my hand (unlike Quince who just about murders me every time). Cider, you are intensely curious and always up for adventure. Ronin, you're a good rooster and keep excellent care of your flock. You do a stellar job of teaching Caesar the ropes, too. Poppy, you've gone broody and you're quite possessive of your space and the eggs under you. Perhaps next spring, if you're exhibiting the same behavior, we'll allow you to hatch some out and be the mother you wish to be. My love to you, sweetie.
Chickens, I love you but you're driving us crazy. It's our fault, really. We gave you full range of our entire yard. We're novice chicken owners so we're learning right along with you. I have to warn you, though, Birch has a bit of a short fuse lately when it comes to you traipsing around on the deck, pooping everywhere. I have to tell you that we're planning on enclosing the deck as well as fencing off a section of yard around your coop. You'll no longer be able to go wherever you please. Don't worry, though, you'll still have plenty of access of grass, bugs, growing things of all kinds. You won't be able to eat our blueberry bushes, pick at and destroy the one remaining and thriving container, lay eggs under the house, or jump up on the roof or window boxes. To compensate for all that, we'll give you the compost pile. Trust me, there's plenty of awesome to scratch at in there.
Also, Shogun, you're lucky you're so pretty. Your days are numbered my friend. Although let's be real, you're kind of my nemesis.