DH doesn't like chickens, or claims not to. He grew up on this farm when it was a commercial chicken farm and he dealt with thousands of chickens day in and day out, plus ate them for supper most nights when times were tough. Tonight the skies suddenly turned very dark and I looked out and realized my chickens were reluctant to go into their coop because even though I had the window shutters partially open it was pretty dark inside. DH went out in the pouring rain mixed with golfball-sized hail, holding a flashlight to entice the chooks into the coop and waited patiently while I adjusted some positioning on the roosts and told each one goodnight. That's why my hubby is special. Plus, tomorrow is our first anniversary and he hasn't killed me yet (even though he often reminds me that he has 80 acres and a shovel).