A typical late afternoon goes something like this. As I drive up the hill to the cabin, I can see the flock pecking around over by the windmill tower. I park in the gravel drive and get out of my car, and by the time I am walking up the front cabin steps, I know that I am about to be the victim of a chicken mugging.

It will be 10 years this spring since we first stepped foot along the banks of Straight Creek. It might seem that 10 years is a long time and that we have done a lot with our land over the past years. We have built our cabin home, and we have walked the creek and seen it change with the seasons.

Less than an hour later, I walked into the courthouse, papers ready to file for my first case of the day. I smiled at the guard as my lawyer heels clicked across the first floor hallway, and I could not help but wonder what a person's clothes really tell about a person.

I held her in my arms. She was so very small, my newest granddaughter. I felt my heart melt and knew that I did not want to ever let her go. She nestled into my arms so perfectly.

A chore that could have easily taken me several hours, was finished in less than 45 minutes! But perhaps I would still get that wheel barrow out and spread some rabbit droppings on the raised beds, or perhaps I would go decorate a gourd and let the raised beds wait for another day. Backhoe farming has its definite advantages!

I locked the chickens safely inside their coop and returned across the yard to the cabin. There was not a star in the sky. As I climbed the front steps, my dog by my side, I heard the bay of coyotes far down the creek.

Some might think that the phrase relates to the flock's dominant bird, but I know that it relates to the fact that our flock of chickens governs how we spend our time away from the farm. And do you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way.