One of our hens has been broody, meaning she won’t leave the nesting box. She wants some hatchlings.
We don’t have a rooster. Her cause is lost, but she is determined.
She sits in the box all day and night. We have to reach under her, while she fluffs and huffs her disapproval, to collect the eggs everyday. I would have thought she’d have given up by now. It’s been weeks.
We have 4 hens and 4 identical nesting boxes. They all love the same one.
There were 2 times I found an egg in one of the usually barren boxes and once I found an egg in the middle of the coop floor. Until recently, the non-broody ladies were just waiting until little mama stepped out for food and water, and then they would jump in and lay there eggs before little mama came back.
It turns out they gave up being patient and decided that they love this one nesting box so completely that it doesn’t matter if there is a hen already in there.
Why use one of the empty boxes when there is a perfectly full one right here?
I have found 3 of them in there at a time clucking, squawking, huffing and fluffing.
There is actually a 3rd one behind these 2.
Yesterday Ami noticed that 2 of the girls were in the box and he came to tell me excitedly that the 2 were in love. I asked him what in love meant and he said “When you sleep in the same bed. That’s how you know you’re in love and want to be a family.” I melted right there where I stood. Turned to mush. Done for.
The world through a child’s eyes is a most wonderous thing.
Here, just so he can hate me when he’s older, is cuteness 4 year old style.
Such a serious expression.
Those are mittens on his feet. You should see him wear them with shoes…little flat thumbs dangling over the sides of the shoes.
And the 3 sizes too big, hand me down unders are completely my fault. I bought them too big on purpose thinking the boys would grow into them, but they outgrow them mentally way before they do physically. From Benny, to Conrad, and then to Ami, they each would tell me that those were baby underpants and remind me that they weren’t babies. Will they ever understand that they will always be my babies?