This is my dad. I love this picture. He looks like he's in deep conversation with his chicken. I can relate. I talk to my chickens by name - Lucy, Ethel, Zelda, Clementine, Daisy and, my favorite, Carolyn.
My Dad raised chickens during the depression. He sold the eggs for pocket money. Of course, that happened well after this conversation took place. But it was a beginning.
One day a weasel got into the coop and killed all of his chickens. I think he was sad. It was hard to know what my Dad was feeling most of the time. I know when he died, he was ready. He told me that, at least.
I might have to get a rooster so I can name it Richard, after him. And I would sit on a bench in the garden and have all those conversations I never got to have with him.
I might not miss him so much.
And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children and the heart of the children to their fathers. - Malachi 4:6
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