Why is it that whenever a woman sees a baby – it doesn’t matter if it’s the human or adorable little animal kind – that her voice raises a couple of octaves when she speaks?

"Oooohhh, yer soooo cuuuute!"

I grew up with three brothers and I can honestly say I never heard any of them utter that phrase … and certainly not with a high-pitched voice.

And then there’s me.

I finally went out to the farm Wednesday night to see the new babies. As mentioned in an earlier blog post this week, we have baby chicks and two baby bronze turkeys (poults) soaking up warmth under a heat lamp on the Buntjer family farm. As an added bonus to the trip, the mama cat that looked about ready to burst last weekend delivered a trio of kittens atop some grass hay in an old cattle tank stored inside the barn.

I couldn’t wait to see them.

Now, I talk to animals. I always have … I don’t see anything wrong with it!

Molly (my dog) and Misty (my parents’ dog) expect me to talk to them. They also expect me to scratch their bellies when I visit the farm. Old Misty has especially taken to this "treat" … so much so that anytime I step into the garage she sits, lays and rolls over until her belly is at the perfect angle for scratching. What a baby!

After talking Misty and Molly into going out to the barn with me (a tough task when it’s drizzly outside – those girls are spoiled!), we hadn’t even walked to the end of the sidewalk when they heard my high-pitched voice … and not the "Oooohhh, yer soooo cuuuute" voice either. It was a shrill scream. Molly had managed to kill a garter snake and left it on the sidewalk, sprawled out and upside down … and I hate snakes!

Molly is especially used to that scream by now … I do it anytime I’m caught off guard by a snake (moving or deceased)!

But what Molly isn’t as accustomed to is the high-pitched cooing voice.

After making my way through the barn to the pen of baby chicks and poults, I slid off the cover and exclaimed, "Oooohhh, yer soooo cuuuute!"

Now I know dogs are sensitive to high-pitched noises … and really, I didn’t think I spoke in that high of a tone, but Molly freaked out. She jumped up on the board that separated her from me, with her ears nearly straight up in the air and a look of worry in her eyes.

I couldn’t help it – those baby birds were cute with their fuzzy, wuzzy little heads and their teeny, tiny little toenails and their itty bitty little beaks. Goodness sakes, first it’s the high-pitched voice and then it’s baby babble … somebody stop me!