We all make mistakes and I admit that I've made some good ones. And lately, I've been wondering just how smart I've been where animals are concerned.

First off, you have to understand that my wife and I love animals. We do differ on whether or not dogs should stay in the house, although ours do. You see, she grew up primarily in the country and I grew up in the city.

Of course, her desire to bring some of the country into our more urban life has made things interesting around our household. And I don't mind that, in fact I'm even beginning to see that perhaps a more rural life will suit me.

Now in the past we've raised orphaned raccoons and rabbits for the purpose of releasing them into the wild. That was a success. And we've had dogs and cats, but these days we have a menagerie. We have two dogs — one is a new addition — two guinea pigs, three hens, one chick and a small lizard.

Now, the mistakes we've made, in the minds of some people we know, involve having even one animal. And to be honest we've questioned whether or not having so many pets is wise, yet we seem to be entertained by them and find ourselves loving them despite all those little foibles like puppies making messes in the house on their way to learning what "outside" really means.

And there are the hens. I thought that whole thing was a mistake once upon a time, but since they give us eggs, I changed my mind. But the problem is not really with the hens; rather it's the chick.

You see, we've lost two chicks to the wilds at one point, both of them belonging to Sam, one of my boys. So when we brought home Little Feet, a beautiful golden Cochin, we surmised that it would be safe to let her live with the guinea pigs for a while.

Now the guineas, Trudy and Peaches, weren't particularly pleased with sharing their space with a chick that pecked them consistently. But after a while, the sister guineas took to their new roommate, but moreover, the chick took to them, making us wonder if she doesn't think she's a guinea herself.

She drinks from the same water bottle and will eat the hen food, sometimes, but seems to prefer those guinea pellets the sisters enjoy. And from time to time, I've watched her peck at those carrots we leave for the guineas.

But the most disturbing thing happened the other day. You see, we let the chick wander the yard during the day, hanging out with the hens, something she doesn't seem to enjoy.

"Dad," my daughter Izzy yelled, "The chick wants in the house!"

I paused at the sound of this declaration. How is it that a chick could want in the house?

"Dad, really, she's pecking at the door," Izzy went on.

And I looked. And there it was, a chick, pecking at the door, like a dog perhaps, but even more disturbing, wanting in the house, to be back with the guineas. And I wonder if this wasn't a mistake, being willing to let a chick live in my house. And then I wonder if I could survive a rural life after all, lest you find me overrun by fowl. I'm not certain.