Sometimes I forget I live on a farm. Oh sure, I have chickens wandering in the back door on an almost daily basis, pigs eyeing me like a fresh baked pie, hay dust in the backseat of my car, and the assorted smells of a working farm wafting through the air...but yeah, sometimes I still forget. Then something miraculous happens that reminds me why I moved here. And how much I love it.

Saturday morning the hubby and I headed out to the coop to collect the daily eggs and roust the brooding hen out to eat before her chicks were due. Hubby opened the door and yelled, "Oh no!" He said our mama chicken had been taken, likely by a fox, and all that was left of her eggs were the shells.

I nearly cried on the spot. I'd been so proud of our chicken for being such a good mama, raising her three little ones over the winter, then sitting on a new clutch of eggs this spring. I was heartbroken that she was gone.

And then my hubby yelled, "There she is! And she has babies with her!"

Our little mama was coming around the back of the pig pen, eight fuzzy chicks trailing behind her as they made their way around the yard. It was the most exciting thing I'd seen in ages. Five little black chicks and three yellow. Babies...born right here on the farm.

We moved quickly to collect the chicks and their mama before any harm could befall them--the yard is a dangerous place for tiny babies--setting them up in a temporary pen until we have the permanent pen finished. And then I just sat back to observe. The miracle of life is an exciting thing to behold.

Until the next time...I'll be chick watching!

Of all the times I've said, "I wish I'd gotten this on video," this one stands out. I really wish I'd gotten this on video.

I've decided the best entertainment in town is found in my sun room where our mother hen, Henny Penny, is raising her three little chicks under the watchful eye of my drooling Mastiff. Now, this is not my first rodeo...we've raised chickens before...but this is the first time we've done it with an actual chicken for a mother. Last time we brought home a box full of chicks and put them in a pen with a heat lamp, food and water, and listened to them peep the night away as they cuddled to each other to sleep. The dynamic has changed with the introduction of a parental figure. And I'm suddenly not feeling so bad about the way I raised my kids.

Like an episode of Benny Hill, or the keystone cops of the silent movie era, the chicks ran around the pen, like cartoon characters in fast motion, as the mother hen spun around in a circle, trying to corral her young under her wings for nap time. Keeping the two unhatched duck eggs between her legs, she made several attempts to sit, but the chicks continued to run circles around her as she squawked and flapped her wings at them. I had tears running down my face as I watched the show, wondering how long before the babies got tired, or the mother gave up. When she finally got them relatively settled, they took turns jumping on to her back only to slide down again.

I had no idea baby chicks were such rebels.

I'm going to try to catch them on video tomorrow. I can't promise anything. The little buggers move pretty quickly, but I'll do my best. You've just got to see this.

Until the next time...I'll be watching the show.