Mr. Peepers

Mr. Peepers as (presumably) she came to be known, was quite a hit with both John (50) & Drake (2-1/2). John cleaned up one of the Rubbermaid totes that started life as worm bins (we’ve failed twice at vermiculture, but that’s another story), and were re-purposed (I love that word) as compost haulers (3 of them fit perfectly in the back of my Jetta wagon, and I’ve been making frequent trips to pick up TAGRO for the garden, free if you shovel it yourself). It became one of Drake’s agenda items when he came to visit: to feed & water and admire Mr. Peepers with John. Also a lesson for Drake in not beating your smaller, weaker friends over the head, regardless of how entertainingly they react.
Mr. Peepers has now gone to live with the fellow who bought our fish pond (another thing that does not mix with toddlers) for his ducks. His chickens are younger than ours and there was a better chance of him fitting in with that crowd.