Chicken Mama Silhouette

Nobody gave you the title. You just started showing up, every morning, in whatever weather, in whatever shoes were closest to the door, and somewhere between the first bag of feed and the fourteenth chicken you never planned on getting, the title claimed you. You know their voices. You know their personalities. You know who starts drama and who stays out of it and who is going to be an absolute handful about going in at dusk tonight. You worry when one is off. You celebrate when a new layer finds her rhythm. You have rearranged your entire schedule around a flock that has never once acknowledged the sacrifice and somehow that has never once bothered you. That's just what Chicken Mamas do. They tend. And they would not trade a single morning of it.