Mother and Son

It seems that everywhere I go I'm accompanied by dozens of tiny peeping voices. Several of the hens are leading clutches of puff-ball chicks around. It started several weeks ago. I saw a hen with three chicks near one of the buildings. The next time I saw her, she only had one. They grow so fast. After a few days I started painting that building, and the little guy already had real wing feathers, a perky tail and tiny feather epaulets.

The hours I spent painting were pleasant, quiet hours, just me, the hen, and her chick. They methodically circled the building, snatching up bugs and seeds all the way. Our guests have fed them, so they have developed a sense of entitlement, but when they saw that I had nothing to feed them, they circled the building again. The chick was never silent, constantly directing soft little questionings to his mother, "Mom, look at this. Mom, is this good to eat? Mom, what's this?" And mom never tired of answering with gentle clucks.

Every day when I went to start painting, they'd come to see if I'd brought any treats. One day, in his adolescent boldness, the chick approached closer to me than ever, in spite of the hen's warning clucks. Finally, he'd gone too far and she let out a sharp "Chirrrr!" Boy, did he jump and run back then!

Today they were nowhere to be seen when I approached the building. Finally I spotted the hen just quietly standing in the brush under the trees. She wasn't moving and I didn't see the baby, so I was worried that something had happened. Then the chick came into view, but it was quiet. I was puzzled until I happened to look up and see the two hawks circling overhead. Later, when the danger had passed and they'd been out and about for awhile, I suddenly heard that sharp "Chirrrr!" and they hustled into the bushes. Sure enough, the hawks were back.

Those were some of my happiest hours of late, meditating over my painting and listening to the soft chirps between hen and chick. I felt so content. I really must get to my homestead soon.