There must have been ten chickens and two geese running around in circles, squawking and clucking. More than the birds, though, the kids held Jason Nesbit’s attention. Seven of them were trying to catch the chickens; each was slipping and sliding and covered from head to toe in mud. It was a total free-for-all. Laughter and screams filled the air. Every time the kids made a circle around the chickens, the chickens charged and the kids ended up in the mud as they tried to grab them. No one seemed to mind the mud. Everyone was having a ball. Jason couldn’t tell which were boys and which were girls, except the oldest. Even with all that mud, he couldn’t mistake the generous fullness of her breasts or the enticing curve of her hips. He grinned as she landed on her well-shaped fanny once again. One of the little ones toddled over and calmly scooped up a handful of mud and dropped it down her back. He could hear the shrieks from where he stood, then he heard her laughter.
