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Fair Weather, Fowl Friends

Today is my smallest filly's birthday. Our mail order ducklings (who were not birthday presents, but who do serve to make a birthday feel more festive) arrived right on time, but alas! Only two came, as the third breed FarmWife had requested failed to hatch on time. Two ducklings, three daughters? That wouldn't do, so FarmWife and her offspring trundled off to the feedstore for a rouen duckling to add to the buff and cayuga that waited at home. It was buy one, get one free day, and I double-dog-dare you to say no to a free, cute baby animal.

There are, therefore, four ducklings in the family: two who hatched yesterday and spent their first arduous 24 hours in the care of the United States Postal Service but who are, nonetheless, bright-eyed and bushy tailed and two who were hatched two weeks ago and who spent the intervening time at the feed store growing burly and beautiful.

Meet Dewdrop, the yellow buff; Junebug, the black cayuga; and Pickle and Francis, the stripey rouens.

Meanwhile, outdoors, there is a strange yellow emanation from the sky. I use my great bulk to shield the tender little pullets from its scalding rays.

Ears,
FenBar



I will shade you, my precious minions. 

The gears are turning. When chickens think, they really have to think hard. 

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