Our long-suffering hens

Looking out the window today, I saw Sam toddle up behind one of our hens, reach down and gently pick her up. He didn't have such a good grip and she slowly slipped out of his hands. Lucky he's so close to the ground, she didn't have far to slide. She didn't freak out or anything, just kind of clucked softly and moved off.

Both kids love the chickens and obviously the chickens are used to them. A far cry from the attack roosters of last summer. Maybe the winter spent in the cedar tree mellowed them out.

I poked my head out the door to say, "Sam, pet the chickens, don't pick them up" and he replied, "Heavy, Mama - chickie heavy." Yes, when you're 30 lbs, a 5 lb chicken is pretty heavy.

After he followed them for awhile, petting them when he could, one of them did give him a peck on the hand. I saw it, and it wasn't bad, but he got a little sad that a chickie would do that to him. I carried him in the house, wiped his nose and, at his request, put him back outside. His first words were, "Chickie! 'R you? 'R you chickie?" so I guess he's over it.