critters we love

When we go to the farm, we have to swing by the henhouse to check out the birds. The goose does an excellent job of guarding the flock. The three ducks follow the goose around, bobbing their heads and quacking, "yeah, boss." The chickens obey the goose and dash back and forth where directed.
Ember's children have the same dad, and the same coloring. They are bigger than she is. One has a tail. The other does not, like Ember, who is a Manx.

Guinness loves his squeaky 'gator toy.

Clay has gone from pecking at our fingers in search of the chick mash to flying off on his own. He will no longer hop on my shoulder; now the only person he still thinks is daddy is Blas. He loves Blas. One day soon, he will be off on his own. I worry a little about the hawk that hangs out, waiting for the goose to get distracted.