As I stepped outside, into the warm, yet refreshing afternoon ambiance to check on our adolescent flock, I was caught in my tracks, and a smirk of amusement warmed my heart and face.

“What happened to my little chicks? The tiny things of fuzz I used to hold in the palm of my hand?”

Now they’re like a really small gang … up on my back porch, looking like they’re up to something.

I love my little Bantams. What they’re thinking or what they’re looking at, I have no idea. I mean, at this point, we still aren’t sure if a couple of them are hens or roosters (Sorry Opal and Princess Peach, you may end up Optimus and Prince Peach Fuzz), but these guys have brought such joy to my family.

So at this point, I’m cool with being a slave to this gang. I’ll bring them food and water, clean their living quarters, go over and above to meet all their demands … and yes, even notice when the one on look-out is giving me the evil eye!

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