Growing Up

I heard unusual sounds as I went out to feed yesterday...very "chicken-y," but certainly no voices I recognized.  (And, yes, I can tell the difference when the hens are talking, just as each goat has her own voice.)  It seems the little Japanese Silkies are growing up and have lost their baby cheeps.  It seems they speak in their native tongue, however, and my knowledge of Japanese is rudimentary at best, limited pretty much to pleasantries like dozo, ohio, domo arigato.  I find it so odd that their clucks and calls are so different from the other chickens in the flock.  I wonder if they can understand each other.  I can't wait to see what their eggs will be like.

Pearl opted to stay out all night last night.  Very much like handing the car keys to a teenager for the first time, I fretted about her, and was most relieved when she came running to the door when I let Frank and Bess out this morning.  We're almost at full moon, and I know the hunting is good at night, but I still worry lest the hunters become the huntees. 

By the time I finish putting the kids to bed it's nearly dark, and I find it very romantic to see the full moon reflected in the water trough as I fill it for the next day...the last chore for the evening.  I'm sure there's a poem in there somewhere.

The big girls have been beating up on Sheila something fierce, and she has been resisting going in with them at night, begging to be put anywhere else.  I certainly can't blame her, but there are no open rooms available.  Last night I gave in and put her in the milking room with Lucy.  Even if it gave her a night's respite, it's going to upset the order of things this morning.  We'll see.