Out of eight eggs, three chicks, who will be five days old tomorrow. They are doted on by Lucille with great passion and intensity. If they flick a shaving into the water, she picks it out. If they are not pecking at the chickstarter feed fast enough, she pushes a heap of it out of the bowl at their feet. Any sense of danger and she clucks for them to hide in her wings. The grey one, or so we call it right now, likes to roost on her back.
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