I am proud of Georgia for many things. How loving she is, how responsible she is, how much she can keep up with our family and her ability to get along with near everyone. That I can count on her for help with chores and to listen what I ask. How much she enjoys school and that the kids and teachers enjoy having her in their classroom. These all seem like normal parental reasons of pride.
And then we get to pride in chicken wrangling? Is there such a thing? I know it seems silly, but I truly am proud of her chicken wrangling skills. First, she isn't afraid. She isn't worried about getting pecked or having a creature who comes to her kneecap spread its wings and flap in her face. When catching a chicken she walks slowly, then faster, then breaks into a run trying to scoop it up. Once upon a chicken, she quickly bends down (in a frog leg fashion) and snatches it up in one sure swoop. I beam with pride each and every time she does this.
It is this part of chicken raising, the one where I watch my five year old child catch chickens, that surprises me the most. Before our own flock, I knew I would love having fresh eggs. I knew that I would enjoy their colors and markings and the personalities of the hens. I never expected to have as much pride as I feel when watching our child, in all her coordination and experience, pick up a hen within 30 seconds. Watching her in action makes me smile and thank our lucky stars that she has the opportunity to do this, to be so unafraid and challenged and competent~to be a bonafide chicken wrangler!
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