Cluck of the Week: Weatherchicks

Spring has sprung in the South. There's pollen floating in the air, covering cars and coating throats. The mosquitos are biting and bees are buzzing -- both of which send my children screaming in panicked circles. The sun leaves our days a balmy mid-70s on average.

But the mornings are still have their crisp, cold edge. Though every child comes home in a tee shirt, they leave their homes in jackets. Some mornings are colder than others and poor Javi was having a hard time deciding when he needed a light sweater and when the morning called for a full out coat.

Until we discovered the weatherchicks.

Listen. I just can't keep the glass clean. I try, but the dirty and funk attacks
from both sides. Don't judge!

See how puffed up their bodies are? How thick their necks are? How they're a bit hunkered down? If you learn to read the signs, you'll know it's cold as hell out there. This picture was taken Saturday morning, the morning that my volunteer group put on the city's Easter egg hunt. And, as the chickens warned, it was cold and windy despite the beautiful sunshine.

Yesterday they stood long and lean as they waited, patiently, for me to show up with treats. (If by patiently, you mean tapping at the door and screeching at me.) As soon as I saw them, I went ahead and opened the windows. Whaddaya know. The breeze was light and warm. And because it was Bella's birthday, we went ahead with our plans for the zoo. Five hours later, the 80 degree temps baked us good.

Javi has now been instructed to observe the chickens -- because they are at our back door as soon as the sun rises -- to determine his clothing choices. Who needs a weatherperson?