Our doting mother hen is now the proud parent to 6 little chicks.   She officially abandoned the other 9 eggs yesterday, and I am attempting to incubate them for a few more days to see if anything happens.  Gee, that makes it sound like I'm sitting on them, but I promise, I'm not.  I'm just using a heat lamp.

Amazingly, those 6 little bodies fit right under her, completely hidden.  One of them likes to climb on her back (a little rooster, I'll bet).  The whole feeding ritual is neat.  After having the chickens for a year, we know their distinctive sounds.  There's the frantic, furious clucking that happens when a hen lays an egg (and the noise the rooster makes in reply) and the little throaty clucks they make when they want out in the morning.  The rooster has his "herd em up" noise which makes the hens come running, his "there's a hawk" noise, and of course, "The Official Crow" (which, thankfully, comes much later than dawn and instead occurs periodically throughout the day).  But the Mama Hen is making a new noise these days.  When I put food in the pen for her and the chicks,  she sounds a frantic clucking that brings the chicks out, and then, in a frenzy, tears up whatever food I have placed in the cage into bite-size pieces for the little ones.  It's great. She's so wonderfully maternal.  I wonder how long it lasts?       

The goats have quickly acclimated to their new environment.  They literally frolick around the yard, jumping and head-butting each other.  They eat in the woods, and they keep a watchful eye on the boys.  They like to keep us in their sights.  They're very, very noisy.  Busybodies.  When a car pulls into the drive, you see their little heads peek around the corner to see who's there.  The boys named them Clarabelle and Kelly Nelly.