Practice Makes Perfect

A few days ago, I woke up early in the morning and realized my husband wasn't in bed.  I found Adam standing next to the door that leads to the bedroom porch.
"What on Earth are you doing?"
"I'm listening."  he replied.

I listened too.  And then I heard it.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeee

"That," I told him "would be your chickens.  Practicing."

The roosters haven't gotten the hang of cock-a-doodle-do.  It eludes them, somehow.  But every morning, around 5:30 am, they're out there.  Like clockwork.  Practicing crowing. 

EEEEEEEEeeeeeee.

They aren't doing so great at it.  Every once in awhile one of them with get all worked up and try for a Eh Eh Eh EEEEEEEeeeeeeeee but ultimately gives up and goes back to EEEEeeeeeee.

All I can say is, they have dedication.  And at least they only practice for ten minutes. 

Every morning.