These banty hens don’t know when to quit.  They don’t  consult the calendar — or the farmer — and they just don’t recognize that it’s the wrong season for bringing more babies into the world.  They keep nesting.  They keep hatching out chicks, leading them through the leaves, teaching them to scratch in the dirt for seeds and other tasty snacks. 


Take this young banty hen.  As soon as the sun comes up, she leads her four chicks into the barn lot.  The chicks are tiny bundles of energy — really tiny, kind of like earth-toned cottonballs with legs. 


Those legs are fast though.  And strong, relatively.  They step, scratch, run, hop, and leap over crackling, dangerous leaves.  Most of those fallen leaves are bigger than the chicks.  A chick could get hurt falling over one.


After a while, those little legs get tired.


Mama hen picks out a place in the sunshine, and the chicks head for their warm spot under mama’s feathers.


Dive!  Dive!  Dive into the feathers!  Quick or the good spots will be taken!


They’re all in except the daydreamer.   It’s still staring around, enjoying the sunshine, listening to the birds sing.


Hey!  Wait for me!


Ah . . . safe and warm beneath mama’s bosom. 

Um, do chickens have bosoms?