It was a quiet morning on the farm. The chicks were busy with their worm explorations. Or just wandering in the misty light. Mother a bit harried--as are all hens--the fox, the crow, the unknown beast. Beast. Well, maybe a tiny rat--caught by Natasha (she could not help it)--squeals on the order of a baby raccoon, hiding we were told behind the couch. But no, this morning, small stretched form on dawn rug. Almost at peace.
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