Who are we? Me and my partner Miriam, for two. We’re both female, both in our thirties, both from big cities. Our household also includes three dogs -- eight year old Zami, who is the moral center of our family, two year old Dandelion, who lives up to her name, six month old Gretchen the Third, who has the only truly sunny disposition in the bunch -- and two cats -- grey tabby Reuven, who must cope with being the only male in the indoor family, and sleek black Sheena, who is worshipped by all. All of the dogs are big dogs. Since the day recorded here, the cats have been joined by Samhain, who was found on a pile of coats at the dump.

06:15 AM

The daily tragedy of being forced out of bed begins. Gretchen is walking on our heads and Zami is whining pathetically at the back door. Inside of the covers is warm, so very warm. Outside of the covers is oh, so cold. Blessedly, Miriam gets up to let them outside.

06:20 AM

Miriam sweetly tells me it’s time to get up.

06:25 AM

Miriam sweetly tells me it’s time to get up.

06:30 AM

Miriam sweetly tells me it’s time to get up. I claim that all I want is "5 more minutes" of sleep. She accedes, but then I suddenly remember that I didn’t go out to buy more dog food last night. I had planned to make some rice to mix in with the kibble that we do have, but fell asleep before doing so. In my sleepy state, the three hungry dogs outside seem like ravenous wolves, or maybe starving kittens. Either way, I must figure out what to feed them. With great regret, I drag myself from under the covers and pile on layer upon layer of mismatched clothing.

06:35 - 07:00 AM

Going back into the bedroom to put on outdoor clothing, I run into Dandelion and spend some time loving her up. I then pile on more clothing, as though opening up the chicken coop were the equivalent of an Arctic expedition. I am having a hard time with the transition to autumn.

07:00 - 08:00 AM

We moved here less than a year ago, drawn by dreams of rural life and a real estate market so depressed that even we could afford a small house and a bit of land. Our monthly mortgage payment for said house and land is less than half of what one of us used to pay to rent a one bedroom apartment in a city. Eventually, we want to put in a solar energy system. Between that and growing much of our own food, we hope to decrease our need for cash money to the point where neither of us has to work full time for money. That way, we will have more time for activism, art, and other meaningful activities.

Another long-term goal was to start some sort of animal sanctuary. We didn’t have any particular animal in mind except for having a general awareness that farmed animals are very much in need of sanctuary. We figured that we could take our time finding out where the need was greatest, since it would be quite a while before we would have the financial ability to start any kind of shelter.

The chickens had other ideas. Within weeks of moving -- on the way to the bank to set up our checking account, as a matter of fact -- we found a chicken in a ditch by the side of the road. At first we cheered her escape from the truck headed for the poultry factory, but then we realized that she would die if left out there in the snowy ditch. As I swung the truck around to pick her up, I got that sinking feeling that says, my life is about to change.

It did. The comic aspects of two city gals learning to take care of a chicken -- including our surprise when "she" started crowing -- are too many to recount here. Suffice it to say that we fell in love with chickens. Since this is poultry country, there are plenty of them to rescue. Soon, we had three, then six, then twenty-six, and still counting. Eventually, we decided to make it formal and incorporated the Eastern Shore Chicken Sanctuary. At present, the number of sanctuary residents hovers around 80 including not only the "broiler" birds who jump from poultry trucks and escape from chicken farms but also "layer" hens rescued from egg factories.