I harbor, deep in the back of my mind, a secret desire to raise chickens. I continually talk myself out of it - I hear they're messy, loud, a lot of work. Plus, we have spotted coyotes in our yard, not to mention the raccoons.
But I really, really love farm-fresh eggs and I think selling eggs would be a good little business for my kids.
Glen would never agree, so my now not-so-secret desire to raise chickens will stay a desire.
Instead, I will share this fun little poem I found in Eric Carle's Animals, Animals:
The Red Hen
She turned her head to this side;
She turned her head to that.
Looking round for tidbits,
Juicy ones and fat.
Scritchy-scratch went Red Hen's feet:
Nib-nob went her bill.
She ate of juicy tidbits,
Until she had her fill.
And then she flew into a nest
And laid an egg, and then.
With a cut-cut-cut, ca-dah-cut,
Flew off to eat again.
~James S. Tippett
Enjoy more poetry here: Poetry Wednesday