When Morning Gilds the Farm (Friday, Dec. 3)

The rising sun gilds the tops of the distant trees while the rest of the farm lies in frosty shadow.

The chickens huddle together for warmth as they wait to be released for the last time.  They don't have a clue, so they will spend their last day as happily as they have every other, but I feel a pang of regret.

The Last Supper.  We won't feed the chickens tonight in order to give their intestinal tracts time to clean themselves out.

Chickadee follows a rooster whose plumage is aglow in the morning light.

Over in the barnyard, Siobhan looks for a playmate, but Rascal runs away.

That's a great excuse for Siobhan to start prancing around . . .

. . . bucking . . .

. . . and galloping like a charging bull . . .

. . . while she glows as red as her daddy in the morning light.  (Excuse the blurry photos, but it wasn't as light as it looks in these pictures, and it was too dark for the camera to really focus.)

Playtime over, Siobhan joins her mama for breakfast--well, as much as she can get with Mama's big head and horns in the way!  The DE on her muzzle shows she got a taste, at least.

After playing and breakfast, it's time for a sunbath while she contemplates the world around her.  If I wasn't cold and hungry, I could stick around for naptime, but I'm ready for my coffee and newspaper!