Chickens Shouldn't Use Cell Phones

So I think I may have mentioned that Pocket Square Farm's four chickens are living in a cardboard, two-bedroom condo... in our dining room.

Yes, this repulses me a little.

You see, we originally planned to keep them in the garage. But then we brought them home. They were so cute! So small! We simply couldn't banish them to the concrete floor and chaotic clutter of our detached, single-car garage--where they might freeze overnight and we would never see them.

Thus, the livestock in the living area.

Generally speaking, the pullets are not much of a nuisance. Their home fits squarely into one corner of the room. Chicks peep but are relatively quiet. They even sleep at night (much better than my own children, I might add). And as long as I change their bedding every other day, there is virtually no odor. I think it's just the thought of having live chickens in the dining area that makes me a little queasy. Especially at dinner time. When we're eating chicken soup. Or chicken stir fry. Or, on occasion, chicken nuggets.

It doesn't seem to bother anyone else that we may be consuming some distant cousins of our new poultry pets... but I can tell you that with the addition of our four new family members I have also added more vegetarian (or at least chicken-less) dishes into my family's weekly menu.

But there I go on another birdwalk. Because I really wanted to tell you about the cell phone.

Seeing as how our chicken condo is an open cardboard box in our family's living area, I sat my children down on the couch right away when we brought the pullets home and gave them their first (of many) chicken lectures. And I am a very good lecturer. Just ask my husband.

"You have to be very, very careful [kids] that you don't accidentally drop [throw, hurtle, toss] any toys into the chickens' home. They could pick it up, thinking it's food, and choke on it. And if a chicken is choking it could very well die. We don't want any of our baby chickens to die, do we?"

"When I say you may not drop anything into their home, that means NOTHING--but especially small items: no Legos, no Barbie heels, no My Little Pony hair brushes, no Japanese erasers, and no gems from the Snow White and the Seven Dwarves mine set. Got it?"

Of course, they both shook their heads, wide-eyed, and agreed to the logic of my argument (which they probably forgot about immediately, as children often do). Mason and Camille scampered off to play.

In the end, they weren't the ones I needed to worry about.

A few days passed without "hencident" and then, one evening while I was folding laundry in the bedroom, I was startled by a sudden chirping/squaking/screaming symphony of noise bursting from the cardboard box. Were the pullets fighting, flying, dying? I sprinted down the hallway, expecting the worst.

And when I arrived at the scene? Well, what was going on looked a lot like a childish, fast-paced playground game of tag or keep-away. One pullet had something small and plastic in her beak and was running around in circles as fast as her little legs could carry her; the three other pullets were chasing her (and peeping) as fast and as loudly as they could, pecking at her tailfeathers all the while. Within seconds, the first hen had dropped the small item, another hen picked it up, and the rest of them turned to chase her around in circles in the opposite direction. What were they fighting over? I couldn't quite tell, but I was fearful that one of them may try to eat it if she could only get it away from the others.

I reached in, grabbed the pullet in the lead, and pried the tiny, clear, rubber oval from her tightly-clenched beak, returning her, disappointed, to her home.

"What is this?" I wondered. "Mason, Camille--come here!"

But when they appeared, first one, then the other, it was apparent by the looks on their faces that they didn't know what it was, either. And that left only one other person to ask.

"Hey, that's the ear piece to my cell phone head set!" exclaimed my husband. "Where'd you get that?" he asked.

"The question is... where did the chickens get it?" I responded.

My husband, of course, denies any responsibility in the incident, and because I do love him, I'll let this one go.

At least I know that if another small foreign object should ever "fall" into the chicken condo, I'll know immediately by all of the ruckus!

And I can certainly, definitely proclaim that chickens shouldn't use cell phones.

Home "Churned" Butter

Looking for something to do on a rainy day? How about making home "churned" butter?

I found this recipe in one of my favorite gardening magazines, Organic Gardening, and decided to try it out for my Guerilla Dining Dinner Party at Pocket Square Farm (see August 25th post). The result was insanely delicious and oh so simple. Hard to believe but true.

Homemade butter has an altogether different texture and much fresher taste than even the most expensive gourmet butters available from pricey markets such as Whole Foods or Bristol Farms. Sprinkle it with a little kosher salt and spread it over a warm, crusty handful of straight-from-the-oven french bread... Mmmm! (Beware, this can become addictive.) Here are the simple steps.

Home "Churned" Butter

Ingredients
Organic cream or organic whipping cream with a butterfat content of at least 35 percent
(Any amount of cream you wish; I used a pint here.)
Salt to taste
Very cold water, for rinsing

Directions
1. Pour the cream into the bowl of your electric mixer and turn it on to medium speed. Blend it as if you were making whipped cream; it will begin to form stiff peaks.

2a. Leave the mixer running and walk away to do something else or take a short rest. Really!
After about ten minutes your cream will magically transform into butter, changing from white to yellow, separating into butter and buttermilk. You will know it's done when the steady whirring sound of the mixer changes to a thump, thump, thump as the butter hits the side of the bowl repeatedly. Head back to the kitchen for the next step!

2b. Or, alternately, if you don't have a stand mixer, pour a small amount of cream into a jar with a tightly sealed lid and hand it over to a busy 5-year-old with energy to burn! My son (who thinks outside the box on most occasions) decided to try making butter his way--holding a canning jar of cream between his feet while he jumped on a trampoline in the back yard about 200 times. (Of course! What other way could there be?) His end result was the same as mine, only he burned about a hundred calories in the process and I burned... well... never mind.

Mason's trampoline-butter-churning technique.
I do not recommend you try this at home!

When the mixer makes a thumping sound,
the butter has separated from the buttermilk.

3. Turn off the mixer (or extricate the sealed container from your child) and carefully pour off the buttermilk into a container with a lid. Store the sealed buttermilk in the fridge and use within two days to make old fashioned buttermilk pancakes or biscuits!

4. With your lump of butter still in the mixing bowl, use a spatula to press it down and squeeze out any remaining liquid (you are basically kneading the butter). Add about 1/2 cup of very cold filtered water to the butter in the bowl to rinse it, and the pour off and discard the cloudy liquid. Repeat several times until the liquid coming off the butter runs clear. This is called washing the butter, and it keeps your end product from spoiling.

5. Pack your fresh butter in a container with a sealed lid. You may either salt it now (I recommend kosher salt) or wait until use... or don't salt it at all if you prefer!

Your home "churned" butter will keep for one week in the refrigerator or [supposedly] up to six months if frozen--though I can't vouch for the later claim because mine never lasts that long!

Rain Barrel Dreams

Was it just a week ago that I was complaining about an unexpected heat wave?

Scratch that, because now we are inundated with rain.

Don't get me wrong. I love the rain. We need the rain. Having lived in Oregon for four years, going out in the rain (or hail or snow) with my children, even umbrella-less, doesn't phase me at all. But this sudden onslaught of water falling from the sky, flooding my yard, and drenching my garden caught me unprepared... because I haven't installed my rain barrels yet.

I've been wanting rain barrels for a long time. This year I vowed to purchase them in the fall before our "winter weather" hit. But I obviously didn't make it in time. Which means that all of the fresh, clean water streaming off my roof, down the rain gutters, across the driveway, into the street, and out into the [polluted, salty] ocean is just going to waste. And in my mind, that is an unethical tragedy.

I know which rain barrels I would like to install. I've had the page earmarked in my Gardener's Supply Company catalogue (one of my faves) for about a year. They look like this:

Each barrel holds 65 gallons of freshly harvested water, ready with a spigot and hose for garden use, and I would need four of them to cover every downspout in my yard. I love that it is tall and narrow so it can hug the already-slim walkways around the sides of my home. And isn't the space at the top for a plant cute? I thought that was unique.

I could just go out and buy some food-grade plastic containers and have my husband install screens and spigots, but that seemed like a lot of work for an end product that wouldn't hold as much and, well, would probably be ugly. I don't usually get too caught up in appearances, but when it comes to my garden I can be a little vain. I prefer for Pocket Square Farm to be productive and pretty. My neighbors have to look at it every day, after all. And although most of my neighbors seem to like my yard, I worry that I might soon offend someone with my growing menagerie of plants and animals. The last thing I need is someone calling the city on me!

Speaking of the city, I have tried to procure rain barrels in other ways. Just last spring the Office of Sustainability announced a pilot rain barrel program. The first 100 citizens to apply via email were given one rain barrel with the city logo on the side. I applied but apparently didn't make the cut... I think the city ran out of barrels faster than they could say, "Water conservation!"

Which leads me to another tirade of sorts. I don't really understand why rain collection programs aren't mandatory in areas of the country that don't naturally have a significant amount of rainfall. When there is so much heated controversy over water rights and use, the Sacramento River Delta, the Colorado River, and desalination, aren't we [collectively] overlooking something kind of obvious?

As I drove home today (just a few miles from a friend's house) and witnessed millions of gallons of fresh water streaming through the flood controls and out to the open ocean, I found myself shaking my head. I'm not a conservation ecologist, a chemist, or a government policy maker, but isn't there something we could do to collect and use our most precious natural resource as it falls from the sky?

I think, nationwide, the overall feeling is that people want to collect and save water from rainfall. Several states have created legislation that denies citizens the right to collect and use rain water, claiming that the rain landing on a property owner's roof actually, lawfully, belongs to someone else. I am a pretty smart person, but I can't really wrap my head around that one. To read a fairly radical article about this issue [and I don't necessarily subscribe to the tone of Natural News, but some of the facts are interesting], click here.

So if I feel so strongly about this issue, why don't I have those rain barrels yet? Chalk some of it up to forgetfulness, another part to procrastination, and the last bit to the expense of it all. Maybe after Santa delivers [and if his credit card isn't maxed out], and if I've been a really good farm girl this year, I will get one (or four) in January!

Garden Consulting @ Emerson Elementary

If you're a returning visitor to Pocket Square Farm, then you already know that I have three alter-egos: wife/mother, gardener, and public school teacher. I find myself happiest when these parallel universes collide--harvesting strawberries with my children, building a hen house with my hubby, or teaching my OTHER children (the 35 nine-year-olds I spend most days with) about "growing stuff."

Because aside from the most predominant trends in elementary education [increasing class sizes, cutting services and programs, and laying off teachers due to budget cuts], I can happily report that there is another much more pleasant trend blossoming in our schools: learning gardens.

The elementary school where I teach was one of the first schools around to build a learning garden. A group of visionary PTA mothers approached our Cabinet, the school decision-making body, with the idea of digging up some grass and building raised beds. It started out small, with just a few parents and a handful of teachers being interested and involved.

And then, as gardens do, the project grew. Since its debut we have added to the original three beds a California native garden, a Monarch butterfly way station, a Garden Annex (more raised beds), a Colonial Garden, and a Composting Center. Every classroom in every grade level is involved--with much support and funding from parent volunteers--and our garden lessons provide a hands-on approach to teaching state standards in science, social studies, health, reading comprehension, writing, math, and art.

Schools across the nation are finding neglected patches of dirt, grabbing shovels, and digging into learning... which is a good thing because I've discovered that these days, even the brightest children can sometimes become confused by modern-day markets. Exhibit A: Just last week in my classroom of advanced learners I had to clear up the misconception that "salad" grows in shiny plastic bags rather than as whole leaves and heads in the soil. Seriously.

This blog, however, is not about my own school... it's about another one: Emerson Elementary (a.k.a. Emerson Parkside Academy). Go Eagles!

"Why Emerson?" you ask.

Well, since my organic gardening obsession first took root, friends, family and all other unclassified bystanders have witnessed my farm antics with various reactions, ranging from impressed glee to virtual indifference to... well, shocked dismay: "You bought four WHATS? To lay EGGS? WHY!?!?!?"

If I had to pick one person who has been most affected by my own gardening interests, I would have to say it is my friend Brett. Okay, technically Brett is my husband Ross' BFF, but let's just call him my friend for all garden-related intents and purposes. After my first successful spring harvests from Pocket Square Farm, I helped his family plant nine large pots of "Poolside Produce." Between their veggies and ours, we rarely had to run to the store for shared summer meals.

It is important to note here, before I go on, that Brett is a [practically revered] 5th grade teacher at the aforementioned Emerson Elementary. So when Labor Day rolled around we headed back to our respective school sites. Emerson had once boasted a blooming garden outside the kindergarten classes, but the elderly gentleman who tended it had moved away, and it was left in a state of neglect. With approval from his principal, Brett took over the scrabbly, weedy patch. I went after school one day to examine the plot, and I have to say--it was a sorrily forgotten sight to see--but one that held great promise. I surveyed the area and noted its perfect size, decent location with respect to sun, and--most important of all--a spigot!

The space would need a lot of work before it was ready for students to be involved, however. Brett corralled a group of parents to excavate dead plants and some of the VERY poor soil in the raised beds. But as they removed the soil the wooden planks of the beds began to crumble, so the boards were completely excavated as well. The wood had also been painted at some point, and because I couldn't tell what type of paint had been used, it was better to be safe than sorry. Treated lumber should never be used when building raised beds for growing food, as chemicals can leach into the soil.

With the space cleared, my husband and Brett went to town building new raised beds (the same size and the same locations, only 12" deep this time for better root systems). We went to Lowe's and purchased about twenty bags of all-natural garden soil and ten bags of compost. In case you were wondering, I usually use Kellogg brand soils because they are huge bags, you get a decent bang for your buck, and their product description reads, "Contains no sewage sludge."

Yes, I said sewage sludge. If Kellogg advertises that they use NO sewage sludge, does that imply that other brands DO use sewage sludge? I haven't had time to research this, but the mere idea grosses me out. Thus, my brand-loyalty to Kellogg.

This is Brett in his gardening get-up. Notice that he wields the shovel, not me. If I am the brains behind the garden, he and my husband Ross are definietly the braun. The two of them may very well be the beauty component of the operation, as well.


While the menfolk flexed their muscles with the power tools, I went to work on the computer at one of my favorite gardening websites, Growveg.com. For a small annual free members can access the site's garden design software to plan multiple gardens. Growveg not only saves your garden plans for up to five years, but it manages crop rotation for you so that a warning will pop up if you go to place a plant in a location where one of its garden adversaries was planted the year before. You can also print out planting guides based on your designs which tell you exactly how many seeds to buy and when to set out seedlings and harvest. AND the site sends you monthly email reminders about what to do in your garden(s) based on your saved plans. Does it sound too good to be true? It almost is! The best thing about planning online was that I was able to completely design the garden at home and email the data to Brett. Voila! Instant farm plan.

Besides the soil and compost, we filled the truck bed on another trip with cedar bark mulch. In addition to helping the garden maintain moisture and a tidy appearance, cedar mulch may also repel certain garden pests who don't particularly care for the strong, woodsy aroma.

In case you weren't sure, no, these aren't 5th graders. We brought along our own children one day to help spread the bark mulch. His daughter Beckitt (left) and my daughter Camille (right) are best frenemies. They did manage to move around some mulch that day, but mostly they just looked cute!

Here's the finished entrance to the garden, after the beds were completed and adults went back and tidied up the mulch. The square bed in the center of the picture has a black, metal trellis of sorts for sugar snap and sweet peas. The stepping stones existed before our "remodel."

After a few weekends of labor, what once was an eye-sore is now a scenic and tidy entry to the school near the main office and kindergarten yard.

Once the beds were finally full of good-quality soil and compost, it was time to go shopping. And let me tell you, there is no better retail therapy than going hog wild in a garden center with someone else's credit card! Here are a few of our purchases, based on my garden plan.

We pulled all of the seedlings out of the truck and set them up alongside the raised beds where they would eventually be planted by Brett's students.


I also pre-spaced some of the seedlings by setting out individual containers in the locations where they should go in order to help his students plant more smoothly.


It was inordinately hot the day the seedlings were purchased, so we gave them an extra shot of water before heading home. In the picture below, you can see the square stepping stones we placed inside the raised beds. With raised beds you never want to step on the soil, and these beds are very wide, so placing stepping stones strategically can help keep the dirt around the plant roots loose and aerated.


The Emerson Organic Garden also boasts a lime tree, which Brett has sinced pruned, and my husband Ross built another raised bed around its base. The extra soil was used to start a compost pile on site.

Here is the beginning of the herb garden...... and the focal point of what will someday be

a California native garden/wildlife feeding station.

Two months have passed since I first helped plan the Emerson Organic garden, and with Brett's dedication and his students' excitement and inspiration the venture has been a huge success. Only a month after planting their first round of seeds and seedlings, his class held its first Farmer's Market. Students harvested, washed, packed and labeled fresh fruits and vegetables in the morning, stored them in the cafeteria refrigerator during the school day, and set up a stand where they sold their gleanings in the afternoon. With guidance from Brett, the kids did most of the work and proudly operated the stand themselves.

The outcome? The produce sold out in a flash, and his classroom made $100 in no time at all. The next day Brett received texts and requests from parents at the school for even more produce from his class' garden. It became apparent quickly which crops families are clamboring for (Chinese cabbage was a huge seller), so we're planning to get more of these into the next rotation.

And what about the money? For now, Brett is using the procedes to pay back his initial investment for the project--which he took out of his family's own pocket. But the beauty of his garden... and of any garden... is that start-up expenses are generally a one-time affair. Once the lumber and soil that we purchased are paid for, almost all of the profits made at the produce stand will be used to fund the needs of the classroom, from art supplies to field trips. In a time where there seems to be no money in our schools at all, this brings a whole new meaning to the concept of going--and growing--GREEN ($$$).

These days, more and more families want to eat locally and organically, putting their money literally where their mouth is. Now, thanks to the Emerson Organic Garden, busy parents can occasionally shop for produce while they pick up their children from school... knowing that every single penny is going to the ultimate cause: creating and sustaining a brighter future for our children.

My One Moment of Fame!

These days, "local" is in... and major companies who once flaunted themselves as "globalized" are trying to turn around and become more "localized." One such venture is the creation of Patches. Patches are online, interactive communities of readers, writers, and reporters keeping in touch and sharing and responding to information that directly affects their own neighborhoods. For example, Long Beach itself has not just one Patch but many, including the Belmont Shore/Naples online community, which was launched today. And guess who was featured in their sustainability column? Hmmmm... I wonder.

Holland, the author of the Patch's sustainability column and parent of one of my FAVORITE former students, came to my house and interviewed me a few weeks ago. It was strange and wonderful to be interviewed in my own home and treated like an "expert" in gardening and sustainability.

I certainly do not claim to be an advanced organic farmer, just someone who wanted to try it out and was willing take some risks and rip up a lot of grass to make way for my vision. I feel lucky to have been mostly successful with my harvest this past year, and I am grateful for all of the support and interest I have received from friends and family!

Without further ado, click here to read the feature:
Patch.com

I'm off to harvest Chinese cabbage and cauliflower for dinner before it gets any darker!

Christmas Flowers

It's mid-December, and Christmas is almost here, yet this holiday season seems strange to me for some reason that I can't exactly put my finger on.

Most likely the culprit is having returned to work five days a week. Unlike previous years, this season all of my Christmas preparations have been crammed into the nooks and crannies of time--those stolen moments--in between spending time with kids, grading papers, finishing report cards, endless mountains of laundry, and all of those other never-ending to-do-lists related to motherhood and teacherhood.

But there's something else, particular to Southern California, that has me shaking my head right about now. Melodies of sentimental songs like "White Christmas" and "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" float from my radio, through the air, toward the windows... and when I look outside I see none of those powdery hillsides or snowflakes which once inspired such sappy, romantic lyrics.

Instead I see the sun. Beating down. I feel its warmth radiating through the panes of glass. What season is this again? My children are outside playing in shorts and flip flops. And I have only about ten shopping days left.

While I am mourning the "lack of necessity" of snow boots and scarves, knitted hats and mittens, my garden is getting quite the pick-me-up. In fact, my rose bushes are downright confused. The other morning I spied neighbors stooping outside my picket fence, peering intently here and there. Still pajama-clad, I waited until they had passed to step outside and discover for myself what they had witnessed.

This is what I found.

Apparently all this sunshine and heat brought about another flush of flowers. I'm not usually cutting roses this time of year to set out alongside Poinsettias, but when you're an organic gardener you go with what Mother Nature provides... and I'll definitely take these!

I guess it's okay that I'm not shuffling through blustery snowdrifts down a white country lane... at least for today.

Meet our Girls!

Pocket Square Farm's Four Pullets

The verdict is in and our girls are named. Well, we're still refining the names. And crossing our fingers that our chicks are all girls. Our pullets came with a 98% guarantee to be female... but apparently chicken parts (and I'm not talking about drumsticks and thighs) are very difficult to distinguish at this age. If one turns out to be a rooster, the Blacksmith's Corner said they would take him back and return him to one of their breeders. I'm crossing my fingers it doesn't come to this!

Before I reveal their names, here are a few pictures of the chicken condo my husband and I created for them. It's nothing fancy, merely two large packing boxes taped together with a few modifications, but they seem to like it!

The Warm Room has the Heat Lamp Clipped to One Side

The Cool Room Holds Chick Mash and Water with Electrolytes

Anyhow, we named our chicks on the premise of them being female. We also invited our best friends' kids/pseudo-daughters to name two of them and act as honorary owners (i.e. constant visitation rights and babysitting responsibilities)! So, here are their official titles.

Buff Orpington #1 is the larger of the two and quite vocal when she's pulled away from her friends to be held. She is the least interested in being cuddled. I hope she isn't a he: Camille named her Peck Peck. Leave it to a 3-year-old to name a chicken Peck Peck. We've taken creative liberties with her choice and are now calling her Penelope "Peck Peck" Pocket (as in Pocket Square Farm).

Buff Orpington #2 is small and gentle. She loves to roll around in her bedding and fluff out her honey-colored feathers. Beckitt (and her parents) aptly named her Serafina Sweets.

Serafina Sweets with Camille

Our Araucana seemed anti-social at first. I don't think she's really a loner; she was just in a different cage from the other three at the feed store and is having trouble being accepted into their little chickie click. I think she's also a week older than the rest and is being perceived as a bully by the other three, though she's really very gentle and goes to sleep immediately when you hold her! Mason named her Esther because she lays colorful Easter Eggs... thus, Esther the Easter Egger!

Esther the Easter Egger with Mason

Last but not least, our Barred Rock Hen, the black and white one. Addison didn't name this chick during her first visit, but a name struck her on the car ride home: Lillian! I love her choice, as Lily was one of our runners-up when we were naming our daughter Camille. Lillian is a perfect name for this loving and graceful chick who snuggles up in the palm of your hand and lays her head down softly on your wrist, gazing at you dreamily while you pet her. Dare I say it? Lillian may be my favorite!

Christmas Came Early

Christmas came early this year... in the form of four fuzzy chicks! I suppose with our new addition of actual livestock we can truthfully call Pocket Square Farm a FARM.

Preface: I have been a self-proclaimed fan of chickens for 22 years. My passion for our two-legged feathered friends began precisely the moment that my younger brother was enrolled in Yankee Doodle Farm Preschool. This wasn't just any preschool, mind you--it was a FARM preschool--complete with your standard farm accessories and animals. Geese, goats, chickens, bunnies, and even a horse lived in harmony with hundreds of four-year olds. Snack [homemade fruit cobbler] was served at wooden picnic tables beneath a shaded patio next to an historical Southern California farmhouse by (who else?) a 60-year old grandmother named "Mee Ma." Seriously, you can't get much more "down on the farm" than that.

Anyhow, Yankee Doodle made quite an impression upon my young, formative mind, and I always thought it would be "fun" to someday have a chicken or two. But then life got busy: I started teaching, got married, got my credential, had a kid, got my masters, had another kid... and I kind of forgot about the chickens. But as my new obsession with local, organic food and gardening emerged my interest in chicks rolled back around.

They could aerate my soil and devour my garden pests!
We could compost their droppings!
We could have fresh, organic eggs!
We could increase our sustainability and enjoy chickens as pets!

So, my husband and I stated about a year ago that we would someday get chickens. Someday, in our household, usually means later rather than sooner, however. Finally we agreed that we would like to have laying hens by this spring or summer, which meant that we needed to get chicks, well, now! When things at work calmed down I called a local feed store, The Blacksmith's Corner, and a friendly and knowledgable employee confirmed what I had already researched about raising baby chicks. She told me that they currently had nine pullets (young hens) for sale at $4.99 each. (Yes, that's the same price as one dozen organic eggs.) I told her I was putting the family in the truck and we would be right there.

We stopped at a moving/packaging store on the way, where we purchased two large cardboard boxes for the chicken condo (chicks can't live outside until they're about four months old). When we arrived at the feed store I was suprised to find such a large and well-stocked operation. Besides chicks, they carry quail, ducks, geese, and supplies for almost any pet/farm animal imaginable. Bonafide "cowboys" strutted their stuff this way and that in plaid collared shirts, cowboy hats, denim, and vintage boots complete with high[er] heels and pointed toes. I expected one of them to pull out a lasso or something as they mosied on up to the counter to be helped. "I don't think we're in LA anymore, Toto!" I thought. How was it that 30 something years passed me by and I didn't know this shop existed... practically right under my nose? It is an animal-lover's dream come true... my own personal Heaven... well, second to Starbucks.

We headed to the chick section of the store and decided to get a combination of birds: two Buff Orpingtons, one Araucana, and one Barred Plymouth Rock chicken.

The Orpingtons are excellent layers of large brown eggs, even throughout winter. They are large birds with red combs and caramel-colored feathers.

The Araucana is a "rumpless" variety that lays blue and green eggs less often, also sometimes called an "Easter Egger." It is a tall, lean, multi-colored hen.

The Barred Rock chicken is supposedly an ideal species for urban areas and families with children, as they are usually very quiet and docile. Photos of adult hens are beautiful as they are jet black with stunning white flecks and crimson combs. We shall see!

Today was a busy day. We built our cardboard chick condo (2 bedrooms of course), fed and watered our little ones, named them, and held them intermittently. It has already been fun to watch their antics, and they seem to be settling in well.

And as for our children? Well, they are thrilled with their new pets.

"Having baby chicks is even better than I ever imagined!" exclaimed Mason.

To which Camille replied, "That was fun but when do we get our cow? Cows are sooooo cute!"

If only Yankee Doodle Farm Preschool wasn't so far out of my way... I would head over there right now and sign her up!