chicken whisperer

Silas was born a farmer. At the age of eleven, he has the capacity to greet his poultry with one and the same empathy that he has for all of mankind.  He loves and hurts deeply for both fellow man and chicken.

Roosters not so much.

He is a good and humble boy.  Humility, in fact, is his hallmark.  He has enough humility for the both of us, which is excellent, as I certainly am lacking in this area.  I hope and pray that humility does not work like airline tickets.  That excess humility in an individual may be transferred to another family member, preferably a parent, without penalty.

The one down side of a child who is perpetually compliant, kind, understanding, sweet-natured and hardworking, is that you tend to rely on that.  Firstly, a parent expects the child to be like that all the time, and when they step out of line occasionally, its a bit hard to cut them some slack.

Secondly, it is easier to make requests of the compliant child, knowing they will do something without squalling about it.  So the compliant, good hearted child probably ends up with the greater workload.  Its like when you want something done, ask a busy person.  I have to be cautious about this.

 This is the child who will ask to serve out his brother's consequences on their behalf just so they don't have to suffer.  Oh, to attain such a level of natural virtue!  And I can only take the credit for it if I also take the blame for the lack of virtue elsewhere in my offspring...no, it is not my doing.

This morning on his way to the birds, he found a giant dew worm.  He came back to the house to show me.   I must have appeared suitably impressed.  "Should I give it to the chickens or the ducks?" he asked gravely.

"Oh,"  I counseled, "the ducks would be so pleased."
"But the ducks aren't laying yet.  The chickens are."
"Good point, but maybe a treat like that would encourage your ducks to lay.  You could talk to them about it." I continued.
"Mom, I don't talk to my animals," he lied.  "Well, not all of them," he repented, grinning at the worm.

Chicken Whisperer, good and holy boy, pray for me.