Chicks

My daughter is a mother hen. She sits patiently on the grass "herding" her little chicks. They are the neighbor's school project chickens, six weeks old and odoriferous. Technically daughter is only chick-sitting, but she has become quite attached.

In their search for food, these little chicks, roam the backyard, head down, pecking at specks. Unaware of what is going on around them, they hunt for food. When they hear a noise or take a break from their search, they look around and realize that the rest of the flock is on the other side of the yard. Flapping and chirping they run as fast as their three toed feet can carry them back to their fellows. They are then greeted by a chest bump from one the other fowls who just wants to make sure everyone knows who the boss is.

If we introduce a little grain, the wings beat, the toes claw, and the beaks peck to obtain as much grub as possible. Then one little chick will lie down in the sun, spread it's wings, stick out a leg, and relax in the sun. The rest of the flock will then huddle up and fight for the warm coveted spot under the others. If a scrub jay lands in the yard, four little chicks scurry for cover under their surrogate mother hen's legs. My little girl will make a good Momma some day.

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not! See, your house is left to you desolate. For I tell you, you will not see me again, until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’” (Matthew 23: 37-39)