Miss Cleo

James should be the one writing this post. His enthusiasm would make his ideas seem totally fantastic, while my skepticism is more likely to make him seem a little nutty. I'm beating him to the punch though, so nutty it is. Either way, it's endearing.

Atticus has named the chickens Daphne (the white one--James could tell you breeds if you're interested), Pandora (red-brown), and Cleo (the black one). Daphne is the queen of the roost, and quite standoffish. Pandora is an independent but friendly soul, and Cleo is a docile sweetheart. Both Atticus and James are wild about her.

Well, lately Cleo has convinced herself she is going to become a mother. Even though we have no rooster to fertilize her eggs, and even though the eggs she laid were taken from under her and used in our kitchen, she has been brooding--sitting in her laying box all night and all day, waiting for her imaginary chicks to hatch. When a hen is broody, she stops laying until she gets through the phase. So she's not doing much for us just sitting there all the time. Cleo is so dedicated to her delusion that she is also avoiding eating and drinking, as it would require her to get out of her nest. So several times a day, James moves her to the water and food dishes so she'll eat and drink. After which, she hops back in her nest.

Here's where the story gets better. James would like to cater to her delusion, and his desire for enough chickens to take over our backyard, by getting some baby chicks and slipping them under her--tricking her into thinking she's hatched those "eggs". Apparently this is a thing people do. He's started the process by building her a deluxe, low-to-the-ground (for the chicks) nest, and giving her colorful plastic Easter eggs to sit on. Hilarious, right?

The kids are so excited about getting chicks in two weeks that you'd think we didn't have an actual human baby to look forward to around here. They will probably like the chicks better anyway.