For those of you following the story, here in the Archives, our family has adopted a chicken. I’ve been embarrassed to publicly admit this truth, on an island where feral chickens run rampant, invading gardens and frustrating farmers. With everyone constantly shooing these fowl off their property, it seems outrageous to actually coddle and feed one.
But when a little chick wandered up to the Bohemian one day, no mother and barely alive, he couldn’t help but bring it home to save its life. Nine-year old Jeb was thrilled. We gave the chick a box, a heating light and named him Merlin.
I’ve been chronicling our first weeks together on various posts here. Merlin’s feathers are coming on, and as his surrogate mother, I’ve got my eye on the day he’ll be ready to leave the nest (meaning, our living room).
Over the weekend, the Bohemian and Jeb crafted a chicken-version of a palace for Merlin. A temporary safety zone, outside, until he’s old enough to roam freely on his own.
I look at the sign Jeb made for Merlin’s new domicile and realize his handwriting won’t always be such a youthful scrawl. One day, he too, will be residing at an address of his own.
But that’s the future (and my submission for the Weekly Photo Challenge: Future Tense). For now, it’s just a chicken that’s readying to fly the coop.