The Lord Giveth...

...and the Lord taketh away. One thing about life on a farm: Life and death are a lot closer than they are in the city.

First, the good: We actually have three baby chicks in our kitchen, and not previously-hatched birds that we bought and brought home. No, these are sitting in our incubator on the kitchen counter. The first one, a black Cemani named 'Pumpkin', was born yesterday morning while my wife was outside doing farm chores. I was sick in bed; don't judge.

Pumpkin was discovered by Tanner, who heard his peeping and called me downstairs to see. I threw open a window and called Dannielle, who jumped for joy as she came back in, the farm chores forgotten momentarily. I opened the incubator and snapped a picture while everyone marveled over the tiny miracle.

Pretty exciting, isn't it? I know, I know...we're total newbies here. But it's still quite a moment.

This afternoon, another egg started to crack, and Pumpkin was right there to help the newcomer to break free from its eggy prison and out into the wide world of the incubator. Tanner immediately named this one 'Pie.' Because why not? Pie is a brown chick, and we don't know nearly enough about these birds to know what breed she is. We're assuming (and hoping) that most of these birds are female, because we've got plenty of roosters. Oh, did I forget to mention that the Crazy Chicken Lady got six more this week? Seven, actually, but one was a lone rooster who spent a week being chased into the rafters by the Highland girls, who are just mean to newcomers. So we found him another home with friends of ours, where he's the only roo and gets to hang out with six girls that aren't trying to tear him apart with their beaks.

The third one showed up only a few minutes ago, and hasn't gotten a name yet. It's black, but not Cemani black, so we think it might be an Orpington. This is based on a complete wild guess. Still, it's been a pretty exciting weekend on the chicken front.

Now, for the bad...

Sadly, our beloved Flemish giant bunny, Daisy, was found stiff as a board this morning in the bunny kennel. We're not sure what it was, but we're afraid she didn't get enough food; Bugs is a piggy of a bunny, and she must not have been getting enough to eat. Tanner is devastated, because he's the one tasked with feeding them, and he's missed a few meals for them because of his general lackadaisical attitude and rush to get his chores done as quickly as possible regardless of how complete they might be. We warned him repeatedly about this, asking how he would feel if one of the animals died because of his neglecting his chores. Well, now he knows.

It may seem harsh, but he's thirteen and a half years old now; his childhood days aren't over, but they are waning, and adult responsibilities are growing. It's a hard lesson to learn, but it's a necessary one. We will see if the lesson takes.

Speaking of adult responsibilities, a Happy 19th Birthday to Ashton, our oldest here at the farm. He celebrated with his first 'legal' beer, chosen carefully from the brands he's tried before. In a decision that satisfies irony in every possible way, he had a Corona.

So, that's the weekend on the family farm. The garlic's in the ground, the animals are tuckering in for the winter, and there's snow on the horizon. It's going to be a fun winter.