The director of Extension gave Smith a hard look. Smith stared into the junction box, and I was glad to realize he was seeing a warped reflection of himself down there, the water disturbed by the action of the lock installation.

Most farmers out here put up more of a fight than me and Fran, of course, but Extension, with the National Guard on their side, made short work of the standoff. In related news, nobody cares that I can't put crops in the ground without water, that my savings are near used up and my taxes are near due. Bacon grows in petri dishes now, corn comes husked and wrapped in clear plastic. People don't care about farmers unless it's Halloween and they're looking to visit a pumpkin patch.

Hiding these chickens is real founding fathers shit. Straight justified civil disobedience. Anyone paying attention knows that birds belong outside. Seagulls follow the plows. Eagles glide on the high winds. Geese in V-formation still migrate with the seasons. Besides, you have to be exposed to develop immunity. That virus might soar for miles on the prairie wind like seeds of milkweed, of blue flax, but so does the dust that scours our noses and ears, the sunshine that bleaches us clean. My girls and their line will outlive those shed birds by a thousand years. They won't have to be afraid of wind and sunshine, of seagulls and seeds.

I'm ashamed it took me two weeks after the headgate incident to kick Smith off my farm, because every time he touched me it felt like he was stealing something else, but I have appetites, if you know what I mean. One reason Jerry's here is that I can't abide having a cold spot in bed. For a long time, I've been hoping I'll start to love Jerry the same way I loved Smith. Jerry is a better man, softhearted, which is new for me and I like it. Jerry's kindness opens me all up inside, blows the stink right out of me. Jerry puts a bouquet on the breakfast table every morning, even when all he can find is milkweed or ditch sunflowers. He has strong opinions about the consumption of green leafy vegetables, makes us smoothies every morning and skillet greens for dinner. I never have to wonder whether Jerry's on my team, but I don't always know if I'm all the way on his.

THREE OF THE HENS smothered during that first Extension raid, but Hitchcock and Montana and the rest came out of it okay. I've been taking Fran eggs every day to thank her. That must be all she eats because every day I see her she's shrunk a little more. I still have my garden, but she won't take any vegetables. She says they give her the slipperies.