School holidays · Coop Morning

School holidays smell like sleeping in and then suddenly remembering the chooks still need breakfast.

Spike bounced at the coop gate. Suzy arrived with the soft eye that means: bounce quieter.

Coop morning, said Suzy. Autumn holidays, first teaching short. We start where eggs begin.

Twelve chickens had opinions. Pavlova the white one led the fuss until Spike sat — serious sit — and the fuss became a queue of feathers. Even chickens can learn London manners, Spike whispered.

Suzy showed the kids: open gently, refill water, speak soft, close the latch like it matters — because it does. Foxes and forgetfulness both hate a good latch.

Canberra watched from the paddock as if judging yard standards. Little Thunder loafed at the rails, calm, not inviting chaos into the chicken yard.

Quails nearby did leave-and-return; Spike counted them wrong twice and Suzy counted them right once.

Holiday job one: coop calm before paddock games. Spike wanted paddock games first. Suzy won by being correct.

They left the coop glowing ordinary and proud. Autumn light made dust look like glitter nobody needed to invent.

Put coop morning in your Farm Keeper folder. School holidays are still farm days — just with extra stories.

Latch closed. Chooks calm. Holidays begun.