Heedley’s Hens get mature.

In all the brouhaha over poults-that-weren’t and chicks-that-soon-will-be, I missed an important anniversary: on Saturday, the girls turned one year of age.

Yes, one year ago, I brought the girls (and one boy) home from Agway, with very little idea how my life was to change, and how I would grow as a result.

They are ten now, rather than twelve, but we have been very, very fortunate. There were times I deeply regretted the venture altogether (that’s for you, Wendy C.), but now that things have settled down into an easy rhythm (with the occasional inevitable cataclysmic event), I’m glad I stuck it out.

So, now that things have calmed down a bit, and I have some idea what I’m doing, it’s time to do something crazy again…bring on the poults!


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