This morning, the call from the post office came informing us that our chicks had arrived. Well, Ira’s chicks that is. And when Ira heard Eric tell our postman that we’d be there soon, Ira let out such an excited whoop that Eric couldn’t hear what other instructions were being given from the other end of the line.Ira is a chicken fanatic. He often claims to be “part-chicken”. (If you get a good look at his feet, you might tend to agree…) He loves all of the fancy breeds, contrary to his parents that prefer hens that actually lay nice eggs and severely limit the number of roosters. But I suppose that style of contrariness can be tolerated. Best not complain. Eric and I do our best to support his endeavors, but he asks nothing of us financially. He saves all of his own money from market (and selling his possessions to his sisters) to purchase his birds and all of his feed. We do try to help him understand that there is such a thing as too many roosters, and we certainly put a limit on where all of those roosters get housed (like no where near the cabin!!!)And now that Ira has his chicks in the brooder in the greenhouse, he is mightily devoted to keeping the woodstove in that space nice and toasty… which the peppers and tomatoes love. Eric and I love that, too, because it’s one less chore for us…

Ira had the greenhouse so steamy that my camera lens fogged up…

Anyhow, Ira is in chicken heaven right now… wouldn’t you agree?