Shall we buy some chickens, dear?
"Chickens?" My husband asked somewhat incredulously when I mentioned them on our way in to town. "Where on earth would we put them?"
It wasn't an entirely unexpected response, though my our plans for a small backyard flock should not have come as such a surprise. We have, after all, been talking about it all winter.
In the chicken coop you're going to build.
Like seriously. Where else do you keep chickens?
In the coop I'm going to build? I've never built a chicken coop.
It's not as if we didn't look at various designs together. We even decided on a basic chicken tractor model. How we got from deciding on a design for a chicken tractor two months ago to not knowing where my "sudden" interest in chickens came from is beyond me. But I think for at least one of us, there is a distinct difference between planning (daydreaming?) and actually carrying out that plan.
Well, you'll have a month, at least. At first, they'll be inside in the old guinea pig cage.

(Our makeshift brooder with four brand new baby chicks.)
Inside? We don't have any room for chickens in the house. We don't even have room for us in the house. And who says I'll get a coop built in a month?
A problem, I admit. But one entirely within our control. And there's always the dog kennel which probably would have worked better if I had stuck to my original plan of three. But we are now a family of seven. And who can resist such intense fascination?

(Bear holding "Diego," a Rhode Island Red, while L. E. Fant looks on.)
If you don't, I'll build it with the kids.
I have since had a way better inspiration for a chicken coop, but I'll share that when we start building it.
What do you want with chickens, anyway?
What kind of question is that? What does any homeschooler want with chickens? So I couldn't help but ask,
Besides eggs?
There is, of course, always the educational aspect.

(Bug studying "Dora," an Australorp.)

And the great photo ops (if only I were better with a camera...and/or had a better camera!).

(Curious but a little unsure, L. E. Fant with "Chickalee," her little Red Sex Link.)

And, yes, I'll admit, I'm hoping these little ladies and our adventures (and misadventures) will provide a little blog fodder.

(Cautious L. E. Fant's curiosity kept her hands steady...until the chick moved. That was just a little too much.)

So, in the end, as you can see, we didn't get any chickens. The feed store my husband checked didn't have any. But that was all the incentive I needed to find a feed store that did have chicks.

Sweet little Bear, prone to hyper-enthusiastic declarations, announced to all and sundry that this was the best day of his whole life when he realized we were not just looking at the little chicks.

And my husband? Well, he just shook his head but did not seem particularly surprised when he got home.

(An as of yet unnamed Brown Leghorn. That job is being saved for my little Mouse who is in Kansas taking care of her grandfather.)