A few weeks ago, the family with the hens moved away. I know the husband had a new job that was really good, so I hope they found a bigger place on a quieter road where their little boy and the hens will be safe from traffic. There are new renters in the house now, but we haven’t met them yet. We do miss Betty White and the gang, though. The other neighbor’s Manx, whose name is Little Boy but whom I’ve begun to call Eddie Haskell, still shows up at the door as if to say, “Hello, Mrs. Cleaver. Can Wally and the Beaver come out and play?” The song birds are out in force, and it’s time to start filling the hummingbird feeder again. But there was something very comical and just a little terrifying about the hens storming across the street in search of a snack. They will be missed.