Our six chickens and few square feet of garden space hardly qualify us as farmers, but we can pretend, right?
Sometime during the day, be it right after breakfast or before bath time, I place Job in his stroller, give him a few grains of oats and roll him over to the back door. Then I watch with a smile as the chicks gather and my little boy drops oats over the edge of his stroller one chubby handful at a time.
The chickens humor him by gobbling up the oats as soon as they hit the ground. Job laughs at their clucking, then throws over another handful.