I was supposed to be in Oregon, sitting by the ocean, hoping I could catch a late migrating whale or two. But for many reasons, I am home. As a consolation to myself, I let my broody hen sit on some fertilized eggs so I would have some new chicks to attend to (not quite the same as being ocean side, but still…) But, reverse chicken math took its toll this round and seven fertilized eggs quickly became two hatched and three squished and one crushed egg altogether. I ordered three day-old chicks from a hatchery, and only one survived the overnight trip from Ohio.

The upside is my broody hen is being the best mom she can be and is luckily quite unaware that she inadvertently killed three babes shortly after they hatched. She is trying to keep an eye on the three remaining, but the one survivor from Ohio is a firecracker and is keeping us all on our toes. Earlier today, when I went out to refill their ever-upended water and food, I watched Little Miss Ohio slip right through the chicken wire on the run and out into the woods. Fortunately she slipped right back in when I ran around to catch her, but oh goodness do we seem to have our hands – or feathers – full with her.

I had names all thought up and picked out specifically for each of the breeds that I had under Della, but now I’m not even sure which two are the ones that survived, and Little Miss Ohio needs a name more suited for her than the one I had originally picked out. I’ve been thinking about my original list of ideas and trying to find a combination that works, but it wasn’t until I was getting ready to go check and refill yet again that I realized exactly what their names need to be.

Sitting by the back door are the boots I always put on when I am running outside to do something quick. Whether it’s taking out the trash, stepping out with Trudy, or checking on the flock, these boots easily slip on and suit the need in any season. They are worn boots, too big for my feet and yet too small for my heart as they are James’ last pair of boots that he wore at work. The left, as his always were, is stained purple, though faded now in ways they never were, from the blueberry dye he held in his left hand to stamp the beef. I would wear them for the same reasons when he was here and each time I slip them on, or see them sitting by the door, they wrap my grief in worn leather comfort – if just for a moment.

In any case, it’s the boots that tell me exactly what I need to name these three survivors. For feathered friends that were to bring more joy to the farm this summer, I know of only three other little girls that brought James so much joy – Margot, Edith and Agnes – the little girls in the Minion movies. The very movies that transformed my beloved back into a young kid, laughing and giggling and quoting the lines every time. (I have very, very fond memories of hearing James and Little G laughing in TN while they watched a Minion movie together!) Edith, in the movies, is curious and loves to explore. This seems like the perfect eponym for Little Miss Ohio and her adventurous spirit! The movie character, Agnes, is a sweet little thing infatuated with unicorns. I doubt my little black chick has any thoughts on unicorns, but she seems a bit more shy and prefers hanging out under Della’s wings. And Margot – the eldest in the movie, with all the apt generalizations that come with that role. My little gray chick, the first of the three to survive, will be a great Margot as well. All three, here to bring little sparks of joy, like the sound of his laughter, back to the farm. Unless, of course, any of them end up being a “Bob”.