We spent most of my vacation weeks at Mom and Ted's farm when the boys were young. They played in the creek, fished in the pond, ran through the fields, played with the dogs and cats and fed the chickens.
Matthew seemed to think it was his calling in life to make sure the chickens had enough to eat. He couldn't go outside without scooping up a bucketful of chicken feed; spreading it as he wandered through yard. The chickens quickly figured out that Matthew meant food and swarmed him as soon as he stepped foot in the yard.
Matthew was right at home among the chickens.
Sometimes he would spot a chicken moving about in the yard as he looked out the kitchen window. He immediately informed everyone that he needed to go out and feed the chickens because they were looking for him.
And out he would go.
Once on the porch, he would scoop up a bucket of feed; which was the equivalent of calling every chicken in the yard to race toward the porch to greet him as he came down the steps. I'm sure he was as thrilled to see the chickens as they were to see him.
Mom used to laugh as she watched him; exclaiming that, for the week Matthew was there, she had the best fed chickens on Earth.
I'm pretty sure she was right.
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