When the chickens were smaller, we gave them milk and oatmeal.
Now we feed them corn.
We throw the corn on the ground.
When the chickens see us, they come running to the place where we are standing.
They are always glad to get something to eat.
At night the little chicks cuddle under the mother hen’s wings.
The Clucking Hen
The clucking hen sat on her nest—
The nest was in the hay,
And warm and snug beneath her breast