This is my mother. This is the woman who taught me to adore animals. This is the woman who plopped an incubator in front of me when I was in kindergarten, and with a few basic instructions left me to it with a dozen duck eggs. This is the woman who rounded up every single chicken egg imaginable when I felt like I'd die if I didn't own a chicken. This is the woman who spent an hour chasing birds in the rain and lightning while I was sick in bed, because my young guineas had broken out and were in danger of being lost in the storm. This is the woman who let me stay home from school the day my favorite hen died. This is the woman who surprised me one year by taking a day off work and taking me out of school to drive six and a half hours to pick up a breed of chicken I had become obsessed with, but couldn't find anywhere. This is the woman who listens to every detail of coop building and chicken keeping without once showing any sign of impatience or boredom. This is my original poultry enabler. This is my mother, and she is important.