- cup your hands around them protectively
- lift them from the ground
- gently kiss their fuzzy heads
- say “peep peep” calmingly so as not to be pecked
- peep peep
watch out for the chick’s momma. she is afraid of nothing. DON’T MAKE THE CHICK’S MOMMA MAD
I’ve never actually had a problem with mother hens and I grew up on a farm. But growing on a farm may be why I never had problems. The rooster was the only one who ever have me problems.
I used to play with my uncle’s hens in Columbia. I learned really quickly why they end up fighting.
don’t fucking tell me that my talent is a “blessing” or a “gift.” it wasn’t given to me at all. i got to where i am today because i picked up a crayon in kindergarten and i haven’t put it down for 20 fucking years, not because some supernatural entity decided to sprinkle a little magic talent dust into my dna
Really sweet guy from my reservation is super christian. Like the kind of christian that does charity events and church soft ball and stuff and he has now invited me to some and I want to still be nice while letting it out that uh… I’m not christian, that’s not my piece of cake, I don’t really do social gatherings like that, etc. And I don’t know quite how to phrase it without… I dunno.
I was the same way, remember?