Page 27 of Secrets and S'mores
“Would you guys feed the animals?” He eyes Ember curiously.
Her arms hug her waist defensively, but she nods and takes a measured breath. “I think we can handle that.”
“Great, Onyx knows what to do. Let me know when you’re done.”
I could smack him on the back of his head for being rude, but he gave Ember a chance and she seems interested.
“Alright, let’s start with the chickens,” I say. Ember’s hand flies to her mouth at my words. “Did you not know we had chickens?”
“Yeah, I did. I mean, I heard them. But I didn’t think about visiting them.” Her expression stays neutral but I can sense the excitement bubbling up behind her rambling words.
“The chicken coop is here,” I point to the larger structure beside Cedar’s storage shed. “Come on.”
Her arm brushes mine as we walk the narrow path, and for a moment I almost reach for her hand. Before I can, she moves away.
“Wow, look at them,” she says, peering through the chicken wire.
“Here, grab that bucket,” I say, pointing at a feed tub. “We do two scoops of grain feed, a cup of vitamin powder, and a cup of their supplements.” She holds the bucket while I fill it with scoops of chicken food.
“Now how do we give it to them?” she asks, peering down into the bucket in her arms.
“They have a feeder we have to refill. And we can’t forget their treat.” With a wink, I pull out a bag of dried mealworms.
Ember leans away, nose scrunched and mouth downturned. “Bugs?”
“Yeah, they love them!”
The hens cluck when we duck through the low door and close the wire gate behind us. With practiced movements, I unlatch and pull the lid off the feed silo. Ember bites her lip as she tips the bucket and pours in the hen’s breakfast.
“What do we do with the worms?” she asks, warily eyeing the hens waddling to the feeder.
“Just scatter them,” I say, offering her the bag.
With a grimace, she takes the bag and tips it down so a few mealworms scatter across the floor of the coop. Before she empties the bag, half a dozen hens zero in on the worms and rush toward her. Their wings slap her as they scramble for their favorite treat.
“Onyx, they’re attacking me,” she yelps. Despite her distress, she stays still, letting the feathered chaos batter her calves.
“You’re okay. They aren’t hurting you,” I say in a low, soothing voice. Stepping closer, I plunk the lid back on the feeder and reach for her. My thumbs rub small circles into the curve of her waist while she watches the hens peck the ground around her feet.
“See? Friendly chickens,” I say finally.
“Are they always like this?” she asks, her voice clear despite her eyes being wide.
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “You haven’t been around animals that much, have you?”
“Why would I?” she snaps. “Can you get me out of here?”
“No.” My grip tightens on her waist. “You can do this. They’re just silly, fat birds. And you haven’t finished giving them their dessert.”
“Seriously?” Gritting her teeth, she rotates, emptying the bag out in a wide circle. The rest of the coop joins in on the madness, pecking and clucking excitedly.
It takes a few minutes for the girls to calm down. Ember’s breathing evens out as she stares at the flock.
With one last squeeze, I let her go. “Picada,” I call, looking for my favorite chicken. She sits in a nesting box and watches us, standing when I call her name. Gently, I scoop her up and turn back to Ember.
“This is Piacatta. Here, pet her. She’s very sweet.”
Tentatively, Ember strokes Picada’s feathers.
