My husband and kids were gone for the day. I had the whole blissful day in front of me, coffee in hand, a book and a gorgeous day to sit on the deck and enjoy both.

My saga as a chicken farmer started a year and a half ago. My neighbor, myself and our kids trotted (okay, well, we drove) eagerly to the feed store and picked out 12 baby chicks one fine spring day. Hoping for all girls (but knowing we’d likely end up with a few roosters), we picked out our little fluff balls and raced them home to a heat lamp. Two roosters later, many coyote snatches, and a magnificent bald eagle gobbling one down in the front yard, we each have exactly 1 of our original “girls” left.