I naively walked into keeping chickens thinking “mmm fresh eggs” and “awe, fuzzy chicks” What I didn’t realize is that there has been a whole other reason for having a flock in our lives.
And our Kids.
We were never very “open” with the whole talking about sex to kids thing in our house. It was something brushed under the rug for “later” with questions answered in a mumbled voice.
Once I even opened a box of caramels for the kids in the hope it would shut up their questioning.
Sex is a private conversation, tucked between the sheets. With the light OFF.
Until you get chickens.
Well, lets clarify: Hens AND a Rooster.
Roosters are randy buggers, mounting anything with wings as soon as they come to age. Granted, they are also amazing providers and protectors . . . when they aren’t on top of a hen.
Our rooster waltzed into our coop filled with hard working hens and dominated them into a submissive and needy harem within hours. He has continued to dominate any “of age” hen that has set its scrawny chicken foot on our farm since that day.
And all of this in the wide open meadow, for interested little children to watch.
Our rooster initiated our first “what is sex” conversation with the kids. Uncomfortable, but necessary. Our rooster has also shown the kids what an amazing partner can be, feeding his ladies, and putting himself in harms way many a time to protect them.
And once, in the dark of night, standing in the coop, our flock even taught our kids about Gay Marriage, insemination and genetics. As the girls were assessing our newly hatched chicks, debating who belong to which egg, and which hen, my daughter brought up that one of the chicks looked like a mix of two of the hens.
Which can’t happen. In chickens or in any other creature.
And which led to a very detailed discussion on sperm, egg and ended in “so, how do two women have a baby mom?”
Thankfully in the dark of night, standing in a coop.
Sometimes as parents we need to be forced into the conversations and perhaps our kids need to have these questions come up in a “barnyard and natural” sort of way as well. So I am eternally grateful to our flock for leading me down the path of talking ALL things (and by all, I mean ALL) sex with my kids, and for making it a dinner table conversation.
Now my only fear is that the girls will think the boy needs to climb on their back and bite their ear to make a baby . . .
Oh, and that they should know a boy should take longer than the 3 seconds our Rooster needs to perform.
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