The Weather Report for Chickens

Day 89 of 100

I was going to write tonight about corn and give a crop report. It’s fascinating to me what Ron has managed to do in the garden despite the water and temperature struggles this summer. Some things have failed–but not many things. But I will have to give more detail tomorrow because I have a joyful story to tell, and I feel like, right now, if you have a joyful story to tell, I want to hear it. I hope you feel the same.

This is Juliet’s baby, who is on her own with her brother since last week. Oh, Juliet! She has no name yet because I have to know her a little before I can name her well. Today, I learned something about her. I was giving watermelon to the big chickens first, and this tiny hen squeezed under the fence, ran out there with the grownups and stole some watermelon. That’s bold. There’s an order in chicken culture, and this would be punished with a good peck if she were to be caught. She surely knows this, but that baby ran out there anyway while the other babies watched in awe and stole some watermelon. This is fantastically bold.

I always give my chickens the weather report to try to help them through the bad days. I am so sensitive to how they feel that, when they are struggling with extreme weather like we are, I worry extra. I try to make their lives reasonable during tough times, I mean, the watermelon rinds are piling up out there. Still, hot and miserable weather is hot and miserable weather for everybody. Generally, in the summers, I can say, “just a few days, and we’ll get a little break,” but it became apparent last month that we were in for a long heat wave and dry spell the likes of which I have not seen in Maine. I did not want to tell my chickens the bad news, so I just laid low.

But, today, as I delivered another round of watermelon and checked all of the waterers, I got to to deliver the good news as well–one more bad day! The cooler temperatures are coming for us on Monday. The high tomorrow is supposed to be 95. The high on Monday is supposed to be 70–and the rain is coming too! All the animals, including some very old hens who I was really worried about in this heat, seem to be going to make it!

Mary Jane is still alive. I gave that old girl a pep talk today. She is doing much better than I thought, so I told her to hang in there a little longer. If she can make it just one more day, she can live to see another glorious fall around here. Chickens LOVE the Fall. The cooler temps, the leaves, the bugs on the leaves. Even if they take turns molting, overall, fall is a fun time for our pasture-raised chickens. The pasture gets extra fun.

I was feeling so good about sharing the good news with all the animals tonight when I tucked everyone in for their bedtime. Shortly after, I came inside after wrapping up the duck game. While outside, I could hear music coming from the house, as, of course, all of the windows are open. When I came inside, I found Ron and our son dancing in the kitchen with the music so loud I am sure the neighbors could hear it. It was 7 Nation Army by the White Stripes, and they both looked so quirky and adorable. Our son was wearing his sunglasses and dancing around with his “old da.” The best part was that Boudica was joining in and jumping and playing in between the two of them.

I smiled so big my face literally hurt.

There is joy in the air on our little homestead. The rain is coming. The heat will break. Ron has kept the crops alive, and I have kept even Mary Jane alive. It’s been tough. I am so thankful rain and cool are coming.

The weather report looks good.

P.S. If you are a farmer or homesteader reading this post and you are struggling with heat and drought, my heart goes out to you. I hope with all of my might that you get some rain soon, too.

Free to Good Home

Day 68 of 365

About 8 and 1/2 years ago, we got our son an aquarium and some fish for his room. He loved nature documentaries when he was little and just loved fish and ocean programs especially. When we went to the local pet shop chain, we met a fish expert who really was a fish expert. Most of the people we encountered in the chain pet shops were not. While we were looking for a light for the aquarium, I asked him about getting one with the blue light to leave on at night.

“Why do you want to leave a light on the fish at night?” he asked me.

“Well, I wanted it to be a night light for our son,” I said. It was true. We were getting the aquarium, in part, with hopes that it would help our son sleep in his own bed at night. He had a long history of real night terrors and couldn’t sleep alone very well. He had really big trouble waking up from nightmares. He would be stuck in limbo for such a long time that it was scary. He used to speak in what I thought might be another language. I had never seen anything like it. So, in an effort to make him feel safer at night, I was willing to try anything. Maybe fish could help comfort him. I didn’t know that it was bad to keep a light on for fish all night, that they need dark to sleep too.

“Well, whatever is good for your kid. Who cares about what’s good for the fish,” he said with a tone that shamed me to my core.

It made me realize that he was right, that we were buying these fish without nearly enough education about what fish need to thrive. I had no idea how intelligent they are, especially certain types of fish, like angelfish. We bought two angelfish the size of quarters and an array of other fish that would be compatible with the angels. Eight and 1/2 years later, our angelfish died. During that 8 and 1/2 years, I learned a lot about fish. I mainly learned that they need and deserve a lot of good care. I learned I never wanted to have fish again. It’s a lot of work to do it well. It’s very time consuming.

I loved my angelfish. They grew to be the size of my hand. The first one passed away at about 5 years old, but the second girl, named Michael, made it to 8 and 1/2. I mourned that fish for sure, but I knew I was done with the fish game. I had just one other fish left in the tank, a lone Khuli loach–and Khuli loaches should not be alone.

I took myself back to the pet shop chain, hoping against hope, that the fish expert who so rightly shamed me would still be there. By some miracle, he was. Much like mine, his hair was much grayer than the last time I had seen him, but I knew this was the guy. He didn’t remember me, of course, but I told him the story and asked for his advice.

He told me he was impressed I had an angel make it to 8 and 1/2 . “Are you sure you don’t want to start a new tank?” he asked. I told him no, that we have a farm and a busy kiddo and that I couldn’t give fish the attention they deserved.

“I respect that,” he said. And, then, he said he would adopt my Khuli loach! I was so happy. Over the years, I had come to greatly appreciate those little fish, and I wanted this last little loach to have a good home. It was going to the best home! He told me to bring it in the next day and that he would take it.

When I took that little fish to the pet shop the next day, I didn’t see my guy at first. I started to worry. I waited for a bit, and finally, he came out from the back. I guess he was on break, but he saw me and came straight to me. He had a line of people, but he came and took the fish right away. He looked me in the eye and said, “I will give it a good home.” I nodded my head in a slow, deep thanks and told him I was so grateful. He nodded back and was off to help the next people.

When I got home, Ron said, “You did right by that little fish.”

Today, I did right by three little roosters, and I am even more grateful. We had four roosters in our summer round of baby chicks. We were very fortunate. Out of 12 babies, we had 8 girls and 4 boys. We are keeping one boy, named Dvorak by my son. For the rest, I really wanted to find good homes for them because they seem to be very good roosters so far.

And a good rooster is hard to find.

This is one of Ruby’s babies. He’s a very pretty boy and went to a good home today. I hope he’s doing well. The first day is always tough.

So I told their story on Facebook. They are of a great breed that is docile, so I knew, surely, someone would want them, at least some of them. It’s very hard to find homes for roosters. This is Maine. Everyone has chickens, and everyone who hatches chicks has too many roosters. In the early fall, you can drive down the road and see signs “free roosters.”

I have a rule for the roosters I raise. If they seem to be bad roosters, we keep them and make soup out of them when they are older. If they seem to be good roosters, I do everything in my power to find them a good home.

Today, I got really lucky. I delivered roosters to some really kind people. The little super sweet boy went to a woman who lives on the coast and was wonderfully kind. She asked about paying for him, and I said he was free to a good home. So she brought a gift instead–seaweed for the garden. Yeah, she was awesome!

She later messaged me and said she was going to skip a meeting she had today and just watch the “cute little dude.” He was staying in a crate in her house for a few weeks while he was in quarantine. This made my heart so happy. When I caught him today for his trip, he was very upset and cried and cried, but when I snuggled him, he leaned in and just put his little head on my shoulder. He’s that sweet. I am so glad he went to such a fantastic home. I think he hit the rooster jackpot, and I over the moon for him.

Two roosters went to another woman, who also seemed just awesome. “Oh, I’m the chicken lady,” she said. I thought this was excellent. My people for sure. She told me she has four different coops, and the chickens can choose which one to sleep in at night, based on who they want to be with. So the chickens get to choose their people! This is the best and so wonderful for chickens. I have thought many times about how my animals who don’t like each other get stuck living with people they don’t like. I feel so sorry for them and try to help make the best of it. Lots of space helps, but truly, having four coops is the best. Ron told me not to get any ideas.

So it was a good day for roosters and a good week for me for finding good homes for some deserving animals. My work here is done…until tomorrow, of course, when I have to teach my babies and the rest of Ruby’s babies how to get along and live together. They are pretty young. This should go fairly well. I mean, I hope so.

They Missed Me

Day 63 of 365

I’ve usually been able to win all of our chickens over, even the ones who are skeptical, skittish, and overall just cautious of me for the longest time. I would say that most of my chickens love me, but most of them love me for the snacks. I have had a few who just really seemed to like me–Poe and Broody hen have both passed away, but Mary Jane likes me, as does Penelope.

But I have never had a group of chicks who loved me the way the little group of five I adopted seem to love me. They are not even food driven. They don’t yet really care for snacks. They just are genuinely happy to see me when I come to see them. Today, I was gone most of the day. My son is another music camp on the coast, and the drive is so long that I just stayed in the little town while he was at camp all morning and into the early afternoon.

It was late afternoon when we got home, and before I even came into the house, I went out to see my chicks. I missed them. I turns out, they missed me! I have have had this experience before. These chicks ran up to see me–cheeping the whole way. They jumped in my lap, and three of them jumped up on my shoulders and head. Little Hector, who just so happens to be a girl, sat on my shoulder and complained in my ear about what a terrible day it was without me. I’m pretty sure that’s what she’s saying.

There is a little rooster from Ruby’s bunch of kiddos that’s pretty darn aggressive. He’s pretty mean to Hector. He really needs to go, but it’s hard because he’s gorgeous–a gorgeous jerk.

Bit, for real, I think she was also telling me she was just really excited to see me.

Anyway, I’ll deal with that little rooster later. Right now, I’m just going to treasure having these chicks love me so much. I swear, I wasn’t even a very good mama. I didn’t give them enough attention on far too many days. They are just very sweet-natured birds. I have to highly recommend their breeds: Black Copper Maran, Blue Copper Maran, and Lavender Orpington. If you are interested in any of these breeds and are in Maine, I highly recommend Why Not Farms.

***

And I have to give a quick Ruby update. Ruby has finally settled down a bit and no longer steals the crate from her children, but she has refused to go back into the coop. She has taken to roosting at night on some stuff in the garage and hanging around the driveway all day. Ron was complaining a bit about this arrangement because she poops in the garage, of course, but Ruby talked to him this morning and, apparently, won him over. “I guess Ruby’s moved into the garage for awhile,” he said. I guess so.

Ruby’s Back in the Coop

Day 59 of 365

When I started this journey, Ruby started her journey with me. Right as I started this blog, Ruby got her eggs. For the last nearly 60 days, I have observed Ruby’s journey. I loved watching her be a great mom. The last few days, I have been watching her have a really hard time coming out of motherhood. Her hormones have made her a wreck. I can empathize.

Tonight, as we were wrapping up dinner, I heard a baby chick screaming in the garage. They scream big for even the smallest things, but, of course, you have to go check on all of it. I found Ruby in the crate, and as her babies tried to join her, she was giving them a good, hard peck on the head.

There were seven baby chicks in hysterics running around the garage.

I reached in and pulled Ruby out of the crate. Immediately, a few babies piled in. I held Ruby a long time trying to decide what to do with her. I talked to her and gave her lots of pets. She even let me hug her. I decided to walk her to the coop and see how she did. Everyone else was on the roosts for the night.

I sat her down, and she ate some food and walked around looking a little lost. But then…she hesitantly hopped on the roost and looked up, longing for a higher roost but so hesitant. Ruby never fit in with the flock very well even before becoming a mama. I worry about her trying to find her place in the pecking order again.

She seemed like she was going to settle herself with the bottom roost, but there was plenty of room on the second highest roost. I reached down and scooped her up. She fussed about it a little bit.

As I held her, I talked to Mary Jane, who would be above Ruby (Mary Jane is a meat bird we pardoned and just so happens to be one of the smartest chickens I have ever met), and told her to NOT peck Ruby on the head. I touched her feet and told her to be sweet. Then, I told Betty, who would be next to Ruby, to be nice to Ruby.

I sat Ruby on the roost, put my hands on her feet, and leaned my head onto her back. I thanked her for her hard work being a mama.

No one pecked her on the head.

A Day Without Mama

Day 58 of 365

I seem to always forget how tough it is for baby chicks when their mamas are done. It’s a difficult process to watch (the mama pecks them to make them go away, and the babies are terribly confused by this), and I do everything in my power to make the transition easy. I spent all day dealing with the baby chicks. I think, considering, it wasn’t a terrible day for the babies, but it was still a hard day they had to spend mostly without their mama.

This morning, I could tell Ruby was done, so I spent a good part of the morning try to herd baby chicks into the fenced area without their mama. I’m going to tell you right now that herding baby chicks is not that much different than herding cats. I had to get my son to help, but we managed to get all seven babies into the fenced area. Ruby observed from a distance.

This is Dvorak. He’s a little Lavender Orpingtons rooster, and he’s the sweetest chicken I think I have ever met. I hope he stays sweet.

I had the idea, to help the babies have something else to focus on, that I would put my brood of five baby chicks in the fenced area with Ruby’s. I figured having new people to meet would help take their minds off of life without a mama. It seemed to help.

Of course, with all of this going on, I was in and out of the house all day checking on everyone, and every time I went outside to check, poor Ruby was doing something strange and different. It’s the hormones. The hormone shifts can be tough on mamas.

The first time I went out the door, Ruby was trying to come into the house. I picked her up (and it was very unusual for her to let me) and talked and talked to her. I put her in the coop, and she walked up the food and started eating grown-up food for the first time in a couple of months. It must have felt so strange.

The second time I went out to check on everyone, Ruby had flown over the fence and was in Kate’s crate. The third time, she was in Juliet’s crate. The fourth and fifth time, she was still in Juliet’s crate, and when I went over to her, she ducked and hid in the straw. Ron reported seeing this same behavior. We both expressed concern.

Later in the day, I sat outside on a tree stump with all of the babies in the fenced area. My babies were thrilled with the new situation. Ruby’s babies were adjusting. One Ruby’s, one of the girls, cautiously approached me. But she didn’t get too close. My babies, on the other hand, were all over me. I have never had a group of chickens be so snuggly. It’s the best! I sat for the longest time with one of the girls and the little rooster, Dvorak, in my lap.

As I sat there with the baby chicks, I watched Ruby. She was sitting for the longest time, just watching the ducks. I have never seen a chicken do this. She just sat and stared. I imagined she wished she could just be a duck, like maybe it was simpler. For real, today, I think it would have been.

At the end of the day, Ruby got into her own crate and let her babies in to sleep on her. This is common. I have found that when the mamas are switching off from being a mama, they will still let the babies sleep with them at night, but usually only for a few more days.

The babies are having to get used to life without a mama. Now, it’s my job to try to become their mama. Sometimes, when they have been raised by the real thing, it takes me a year or two to win them over. It’s okay though, as I enjoy the process of getting to know them.

Tired Body

Day 55 of 365

Today, my body is tired. I picked strawberries in the sun, and somehow that made me so tired. I took my kiddo for a walk, and he’s 6’3″ and walks so quickly. He takes big steps. I think that made me tired too.

But the best thing I did today that made my body so tired was switch out the dog crates for Ruby and Kate. Kate, with her one baby, was in the new, fancy, extra, extra large crate. Ruby, with her seven giant babies, was in the regular extra large crate. Today, while everyone was out running around, I cleaned out both crates and swapped the spots.

These are three of Ruby’s babies. The loved the new house and didn’t come out all day, even as the others played in the yard. I think they were making sure their claim was known.

Ruby and her babies were immediately pleased with the digs. Truly, when I sat that larger crate down for Ruby, she went to the door and started making happy noises. Her babies were so happy too. They ran in and explored their new space.

Kate, however, was less than pleased. This was still an extra large dog crate, and there is a ton of space for one mama and one baby. Still, this crate is smaller and older than the one she was in. She went up to the crate, looked in, looked dismayed, and then backed away slowly.

Later, in the evening, she was still refusing to go in. She sat herself VERY purposely in front of the crate, as if to make a point. I talked to her and told her that her house was fine. She was skeptical.

There was nothing to do but leave her be and hope that, when it started to get really dark, she would go in. Thankfully, she did.

I am so thankful for the successful switch, but I am worn from the cleaning and scrubbing of the crates. Tonight, my body is extra tired.

Bianca’s Gift

Day 51 of 365

Bianca will be two years old next week, and I am really just now getting to know her. I am thankful for it.

Bianca was raised with Kate and Juliet. They are all named for Shakespeare characters, and they are all characters, indeed. Bianca and Juliet are almost identical chickens. The only differences are that Bianca has a few more speckles in her feathers and a dark spot on one of her legs. Oh, and Juliet is the biggest character of them all.

I noticed last week that Bianca has been flying out of the main chicken area and hanging around in the garage. She has not usually done this. That’s usually Juliet’s thing. But I realized the other day that she’s probably lonely. Kate and Juliet are her crew, and they are both raising chicks or are on eggs. Bianca’s been alone in the flock.

I am glad she decided to fly over. When chickens are away from the flock they behave differently. It’s like you really get to see who they are as individuals. In the flock, there’s a different way to behave. It’s kind of like “fit in to survive” so to speak, though we have a very relaxed flock. Still, there’s always a pecking order in a flock, and it kind of sucks to be at the bottom. Bianca is not the very bottom, but she’s down there.

Isn’t it interesting how similar their social structures are to ours?

Anyway, with Bianca hanging out with us more, it’s been great to get to know her more. She’s wicked smart like Juliet, only she’s way sweeter. I love Juliet to the moon and back, but she’s bossy and spoiled. Bianca is a very sweet girl. In fact, when we had a little kiddos visiting the flock last week, it was Bianca who was so sweet and so gently took treats from her. She’s also grateful. I gave her some treats the last few days, and she seems so appreciative.

It never occurred to me that she might also be laying her eggs somewhere outside of the coop until this weekend. I kept seeing Eastern Phoebes, so I went searching around the house to see if I could see another nest perhaps. I did not find another Easter Phoebe nest, but I did find Bianca’s stash.

There, in a perfect little nook near the wood pile, was a little stash of beautiful pale olive eggs. “Oh, Bianca, ” I said to myself.

I gathered the eggs and did the float test. Thankfully, all of the eggs were good. And I learned to start checking in Bianca’s little nook every day.

So far, every day since, except for a day she took off from laying, little Bianca has left a gift for me in her little nook. Now, every time I see her out and about, I make sure to give her a treat. Maybe we can do our trades like I normally do with Juliet–treats for an egg.

It’s one of the greatest gifts of my life to get to know these wonderful animals. I am so thankful for the gift that is Bianca.

It’s hard to be a mama…

Day 47 of 365

Tonight, after everyone was tucked in, I went to check on Ruby one more time because I heard her talking to her babies, and I took this picture of her in there, surrounded by babies. She has one more baby hidden in her feathers. Ruby is a magnificent mom. She’s very nurturing, gentle, and is a good teacher. These are the things that make for a good parent across the board, I think.

But Ruby is showing some signs of tiredness. She lets me get a lot closer now, and when some of the babies are crying for mama when I am getting them ready to go in the morning, Ruby no longer gets upset. She used to attack me when I tried to help. Now, I swear, she looks at me like, “Can you deal with that?”

In a few more weeks, her work will be done, though I have had a few hens stay in mama mode for 10 to 12 weeks. Still, most wrap up at about 6 to 7 weeks. I have found it’s much easier on the babies when the mama lets them stay longer. But, however, long they let their babies stay, when the mama hens are done or nearly done, they will molt. The intense stress and toll of being a mother impacts their little bodies.

The stress begins when they are broody. For 21 days, the mama hens will barely move from the nest. They will eat and drink very little. Their combs shrivel, and they lose body mass; though I try to keep them fed and hydrated, hatching babies takes a clear and definitely toll. Then, they become mothers, and for weeks, the mamas work to teach and provide care.

When the mama hens molt near the end, they will lose a lot of feathers. There will be chicken feathers all over the yard, the garage. It’s a visible toll of motherhood. And the growing back of feathers is not an easy experience for them. Pin feathers can be painful, and they need extra protein for all of the feather growing.

My chickens remind me, deeply, that being a mama takes a toll, and my chickens only have to do it for 6 to 11 weeks or so.

I have been a human mama since I was 21 years old–that’s 26 years. My first delivery was traumatic. If I had not been so young, I might have died. My daughter nearly died.

And since then, I have learned a lot. I am a much better mama now than I was when I started. I have learned, deeply, the importance of being a good teacher as a parent. I have learned, deeply, that it is a difficult job. I have learned, deeply, that it takes a profound toll. It brings you joy, but it makes you tired. You lose your feathers.

My chickens get to decide if they want to be mama. I give them as much agency as I can because I know what a difficult task being a mother will be for them, and I believe everyone needs that agency.

Home After Dark

Day 46 of 365

When you have a little farm or homestead, it can be difficult to be away from home for any extended length of time, especially in the evening. For the most part, we have structured our lives to fit very well with the “tucking in time” of our animals. We have great fences, but fences only do so much. I feel much better when everyone is tucked in tightly and all doors are closed.

This is Ruby and a few of her babies from earlier today. Ruby is one of the best chicken moms I have ever seen. This is her looking alert because one of her babies screamed a little. I was a witness, however, that the baby was just screaming because a sibling stepped on it. Ruby was on full alert though. She’s pretty magnificent.

This evening, our son, the cellist, had a concert on the coast. He played magnificently, by the way. When I say what our son is a cellist, I mean he’s really a cellist. It’s almost confusing to me. He played so well tonight that I almost couldn’t believe it. There’s this cognitive dissonance that this kid, who puts empty milk cartons, can make music like he does. He wants to be a professional cellist when he grows up, and I think he might do it.

If the world will just not fall apart. This is the little prayer I say all the time. But I guess that’s another post about the world and falling apart and such.

Anyway, we had promised our cellist an outdoor dining experience after his concert, so we went out to eat, which is something we pretty much never do. I mean, restaurant food, even from the really good restaurants, just usually isn’t as good as home food. We are spoiled to delicious organic food from the garden. Still, it was a beautiful restaurant, and I was excited. But our server forgot our ticket–twice–and for a very long time. It was tough. We waited about an hour for our ticket. I am sure the poor server was way overworked, so we did not want to complain. Of course, the trip home was a worry. It was past dark. I was so worried about our animals. I was mainly concerned about Ruby and her babies.

Every evening, before dark, I take Ruby’s crate, filled with Ruby and all her babies, and put them in the garage for extra safety. Tonight, Ruby and her crew had their crate but were outside way too late. I was trying not to panic on the trip home, but there was some panic.

Thankfully, thankfully, thankfully, everyone was just fine when we got home. Ruby had all of her babies tucked in, and we now have all of them tucked in in the garage. The big chickens were fine, as were the ducks. Everyone is all buttoned up, and I am feeling relieved.

It was a long day but such a good day. I am so glad all is well.

There’s Nothing Like a Good Farm Dog

Day 38 of 365

Our Boudica is a miracle to me. I am forever in awe of how much of a help she is to us. Ron spent this week expanding our farming area into the woods a bit, and this is a bit of worry because predators of chickens live in the woods. I mentioned to Ron that we would want to let Boudica into the area before we put any chickens in the new space, and Ron was thinking the same thing.

And the new space is fantastic. My poor husband worked himself into exhaustion far too many nights this week, but he fenced a whole new area with a super sturdy fence. People always say that good fences make good neighbors, but I have come to be a believer that good fences make safe chickens. Still, we count on Boudica.

The coolest thing is that Boudica knows it. She loves her job, is very good at her job, and seems to completely understand how much we count on her. In fact, according to Boudica, we should be counting on her more. According to Boudica, it’s a miracle we make it in the world without her.

Tonight, after Ron and I moved the chickens to their fancy new space, Ron went to the house to get Boudica. “Let’s go see dad’s chickens,” he said to her. And, of course, Boudica went straight to the coop and began to survey the whole area. She understood what we needed from her and set to work on her new task. How fortunate are we to have her?

I realized tonight, as I watched her run across our yard with fireflies flickering in the trees, that Boudica is, indeed, a miracle and that, try as I might, I am sure I don’t deserve her. I also began to think the hard thought that she’s getting older, and it would be hard to do all of this without a farm dog like her.

When Gus passed away, Ron talked about getting another Pyrenees, but I couldn’t think about it at all. I still haven’t been able to think about too much, but I realize that Boudica will need to time to teach who is coming next.

But I won’t think about that right now. Boudica will be six years old the summer, and I am going to close my eyes right now and wish for twelve years at least with that girl.

It’s Thursday night, and my workload is heavy, so I will wrap up quickly. But I have to share that I have a helper when I grade papers now. This is Piatigorsky, named after the cellist Gregor Piatigorsky, and she is a mama’s girl. I can tell she’s a girl by her legs. I hope I’m not wrong. She rides on my arm while I work and grade papers and doesn’t even budge a little as I type. I adore her!