Self Control

Saturday morning we went to Tractor Supply to buy a bag of horse treats.  Outside the front of the store, a dairy goat breeder had set up a pen with La Manchas and Nubians.  They were sooooo cute.  But we were good; we successfully resisted the urge to bring one home.

Sunday, we went to the feed store.  As we stood in line to return our storage container (bought one, then found an extra in the barn), we overheard the people in front of us asking questions about the baby chicks they were buying.

Baby chicks!  When our turn came, I asked what breeds they had.  There was quite a list; including Cuckoo Marans.  We were sunk.  Brett knows how much I love that breed and the beautiful chocolate brown eggs they lay.

He looked at me, his blue eyes glinting with laughter,  and said, "How many are we getting?"
"Three"
"That was my thought too."

We put them in a cat carrier, in the hen house, for the time being.  Today, after work, my co-worker dropped off our chick breeder that he borrowed earlier this spring.

We named them all Camille -- because we bought them on Camille's birthday.  And, she's okay with that.  Camille 1, Camille 2 and Camille 3.