Spent a good hour on the tractor last night after supper bush-hogging. The thought occurred to me that you don't really know your land until you've been over it a few times on a tractor, and even then, you don't really know it. I was surprised to find large sections of land without a single rock. Then here or there, a rock would jump up and catch my blades, and I would wonder what that rock looked like beneath the surface.

The area across from the pond was free of rock, and if I read my soil map correctly, it might be a really good place to plant some fruit trees. Our vision of the place is shaping up.

Tuesday, after putting the chickens through the stress of the move, two of them actually laid an egg. Yesterday, I decided to try to move the chicken tractor a bit to give the chickens fresh ground to pick at, and one of them escaped under the end as I lifted it up. I tried to calmly 'chase' her back into safety, but she wouldn't go for it. Thankfully, the neighbor's dogs didn't visit. One egg yesterday.

One chicken came to us with a name. Finley and I named three more. We are debating the name of the fifth. Chris asked me if we were planning on eating any of these. I looked at him in shock. There is something too personal about these chickens. They have too much of a story. And, really, once you've named them... Personification of an animal kills the desire to use that animal for food. (Pun intended.) When we end up with more chickens in the future, I will discourage further naming.