We're All a Bunch of Chickens!

Don’t look now, but Belly Acre Farm is going fowl. As in chickens.

As a writing tool to help me with my upcoming children’s book, I’ll occasionally be converting all the members of my family into chickens. Okay, not real chickens, but I’ll refer to us as chickens in this blog. Some of my friends and neighbors will be barnyard animals as well. (Let me know if you have any personal preferences as to your breed and name. Maybe you’d make a fine bovine. Or how about an old goat?)

For starters, let me introduce our family members.

Our leading male is Rusty the rooster. (a.k.a. Safety Rooster) He’s often away from the coop working hard to help other animals stay safe and follow all the rules. He’s hard-working, dedicated, and quite serious. He does, however, have a killer racquetball serve.

Then there’s me. I’m Mother Hen. You can call me Queenie. (I love bees and have always wanted to be a queen bee. This is my big chance.) I spend most days on the farm tidying up the pig sties and preparing chicken scratch for dinner. Sometimes I get peckish, but most days I’d describe my mood as sunny side up. I dream of becoming a successful writer. Maybe even have a story printed up in Better Coops and Pig Sties. You never know.

Next is Bug. He’s a rooster in training and just started into the teen years. He eats, sleeps and breathes basketball. He even made a custom set of glasses with cardboard blinders across the bottom of the frame to block the view of his wings while he’s dribbling the ball. His uncle in med. school told him that chickens grow while they sleep. He dreams of being 6 foot 2 inches, so he tries to hit the hay early. Bug is focused and motivated, but is often discouraged and bossy. He’s a work in progress, but we’re sure he’ll achieve greatness.

Loula Belle is a young chick of 10 years old. We call her Lou for short. Yesterday I went with her to a maturation clinic for fifth grade girls. Can she really be growing up and trading in her downy yellow fluff for training feathers? I guess that would explain her recent mood swings. But I’m not too worried. She’s an easy-going social butterfly. School and sports come easy for her. I like watching her strut her stuff.

Last of all we have Beans. Dear little Beans. She’s all of eight years old and as sweet as strawberry pie. You’ll never meet a kinder, more giving chick than Beans. She enjoys drawing and writing, and loves playing with our farm cat, Oreo. But watch out! Just when you least expect it, Beans can really let ‘er rip. P-U! (Her cute little giggle usually precedes the smell. Almost makes the toot worth it.)

That’s us. Be sure to tune in regularly to see what we’re up to. You can never tell when things will get interesting.