The trilliums, spring beauties, and bleeding hearts are awake and pushing through the fallen leaves. Soon the forest floor will be a carpet of green with pink and white flowers. Can you imagine that almost no chicken ever gets to wriggle her toes in such lush undergrowth? And yet they are birds descended from jungle fowl. With such ancestry, every chicken deserves to spend time every day feeling the lush forest floor between her toes.

So do humans, when you think about it. We’re descended from forest dwellers too. So why are so many of us walking on concrete all the time? Our feet are made to move over thick carpets of moss and fallen leaves and wet tickling grasses. Feel the dew drops kiss your toes. Reclaim your heritage. Venerate our ancestors of a million years ago. Feel the grass between your toes. Liberate yourself from concrete.

On a spring day, Buttercup keeps her eggs warm. Hens have such fiery eyes, they should be grade school teachers. With such eyes glaring at them, no child would dare misbehave. When you are a mother-to-be, safeguarding a clutch of eggs, you need to be able to stare down any threat. For the three weeks they sit patiently on their eggs, I wonder what hens think about all day long.

As Buttercup patiently sits, the pears are in bloom. Before their blossoms open, they look like fluffy popcorn. When pear blossoms open, they spread their dark pink stamen as wide as possible. Against their white petals, the stamen must tell the bees that there is lots of pollen for them.