No one tells the chicken to crow

My son had a rare gift for his birthday. Three cute chicks. They arrived in a box. All fluffy and minute. Soon they had us all wrapped around their fluffy feathers. If there is such a thing. We took turns feeding them. Watching them mature literally in front of our eyes. It was such a joy. Soon our Saturday mornings were filled with visits to the farmers market to get supplies and or feed for the chicks.

 In no time the chicks out grew their box. The reality that we are officially rearing free range chickens sunk in. We had to build a chicken coup. It would take literally the entire family to do this. Let us overlook the fact that it was during the COVID-19 nationwide Lockdown. The check coop presented a much needed distraction for us all.

Once within their new home. The chicks explored their newfound space. Soon they blossomed under our watchful eyes. As they matured, they became distinctly different. To our joy and excitement, one of them was a rooster. His once white fluffy fathers gained a golden hue towards his neck. And without warning a cowlick developed. Then on some random winter dawn we heard a slight weak sound of a rooster. We dismissed it. Then lo! and behold next day again, at the same time, we heard the sound.

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