Lulu has me wrapped around her little finger.

She knows how to get to me; it works every time. She stuck her nose through an opening in the face, tilted her head, and batted her eyes. I go into the barn and get her an alfalfa treet.

The Imperious hens are less charming; they march up and stare at me; they know when it’s time for their mealworm snacks.

The hens didn’t come outside for a week after the awful bold blast more than a week ago. They have resumed their position as the Imperious Hens, marching around all day on their farm.