The farm awoke slowly, bathed in the soft light of dawn. The rooster, with its vibrant feathers, strutted atop the fence, announcing the start of a new day. Nearby, the barn doors creaked open, revealing stacks of hay and the earthy scent of animals stirring within.

The farmer, a kind-faced man with calloused hands, stood by the chicken coop, clipboard in hand. He began to count the hens, each cluck and flutter noted with care. "One, two, three...," he murmured, his routine as familiar as the sun rising.

As the farmer continued his count, he noticed a tiny beak peeking out from beneath a hen. A new chick, its downy feathers bright under the morning sun, chirped softly. "Well, aren't you a surprise?" he chuckled, adding one more to his tally.

Lucy, with her hair tied in pigtails, joined her father, eager to help. "I want to count the sheep today!" she exclaimed, her eyes bright with excitement. Together, they moved to the pasture, the sheep grazing peacefully under the blue sky.

With the day's count completed, the farmer and Lucy found a moment of rest by the pond. Ducks quacked softly, their reflections shimmering in the water. "I think we have the most wonderful farm," Lucy said, leaning against her father.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the fields. The animals, counted and cared for, nestled into their beds for the night. The farmer, content with the day's work, closed the barn doors, leaving the farm to the embrace of twilight.