Here's our rooster, diligently guarding his hens. Or posing for a picture. Funny story--he stopped and looked up when I came out with the camera, and as soon as the shutter clicked, he walked on as if he had paused just to pose for me!
They're cute now. . .but they already smell badly. They sent us about 83 and we've lost about 2 so now we're down to about 70. . . chicken math. . . No, we've still got about 81, as far as I know. 
And then there's Buck. His original name was 'Coon', derived from the markings on his face. Caleb, however, didn't like it, so it was changed. So far this dog has run away several times (making us spend about an hour searching for him, only to show up as soon as we decide to quit), eaten eggs that the chickens laid, stepped all over my lettuce and spinach growing in the garden, and crushed some of my transplants that I had outside on the porch! And he can't stand the sheep! Caleb secured four cow panels together out in the field and put the dog in it, and don't ask me how, but that mutt found his way out and ran back to the house. So I don't know what we're going to do with him. I felt like shooting him earlier when Kenan came in and held up half a broccoli plant that he had smashed.



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