Safe and warm

One afternoon I was working quietly in the kitchen during a rainstorm, deep in thought. Little Carlos walked in the door, and as he passed me, his shirt pocket peeped. I turned around to look at him, and he gave me an impish, toothy grin.

"What's in your pocket?" I asked him.

"Oh," he said. He reached in with both brown hands, and pulled out two downy white baby chicks.

"The mother chickens are forgetful," he told me, "They don't remember that they are mothers when it rains, and abandon their babies."

The chicks can't survive without the protective warmth of their mothers' feathers. Carlos and Javier will carry them around all day, if they have to, to preserve them.

I like the hear their sleepy peeping noises as they travel by little human feet, up and down the hall.