I’m sorry to break the popular illusion… life in the hen house does not usually meet with the common perception of chickens living in peaceful harmony. The henhouse is a boiling nest of gangs, politics and aggression. Each evening as I collect my two pink plastic buckets filled with the carefully weighed ( NOT) allocation of very unappetising looking chicken grain, I take a deep breath. No, I’m not terrified of the currently scruffy, moulting birds…they just don’t smell too good at this time of the year ! Chickens do not always readily part with their eggs, a searching hand is more often the recipient of a speedy and very sharp peck than a contented cluck and our ladies appear to lay in wait for the unwary egg collector. Little gaggles of chickens, curiously, usually gathered in groups of red, white or black appear to collect around the pen. Occasionally a squabble will break out and an irate hen will run frantically across the pen, wings outstretched screeching loudly and usually followed by others, not sure what or why they are chasing. Attack chickens are rare but, the two strike rule is always applied and the guilty bird’s destiny is invariably the soup pot.
Ice, snow and rain are clearly only weather for ducks….and farmers. At any time of the day when the weather is unfavourable, a cursory glance into the Chicken Shack will find rows of chickens hunkered down, feathers puffed, eyes fixed like a vulture watching for movement, ANY movement that might just give them a good reason to leave their perch and stage an uprising . Adolph the Rhode Island Red Rooster is currently not looking at his best, in fact, truth be told, poor Adolph is looking very hen pecked. His shiny copper and bronze feathers have mostly disappeared, his beautiful blue, black and green rooster tail is gone and his bright red wattle is evidence of battles lost and won. Fights with other roosters ?…. no, poor docile Adolph is constantly beaten up by his harem of hens. Sad and balding, Adolf the rooster still struts amongst his ladies unaware of his unimposing appearance and habitually attempting to maintain order.
Henrietta the little red chick had ALMOST made me change my opinion of chickens. At feeding time “she” had made herself my ankle wrap. Entry into the chicken shack is fraught with danger. As the creaky wooden door opens and I step up the 2 x4 balanced on two rotten logs, trying desperately not to release a cloud of chickens hell bent on a breakout, Henrietta flutters to my feet. As I walk, “she” is with me, and often I bend down to gently pick up the little, quietly clucking bird. For weeks I have spent time cultivating her friendship. Yesterday I allowed myself to accept the truth, Henrietta my new friend is in reality, Henry a young rooster and roosters don't usually stay around here very long. DOH !!!!
Well, the cuckoo clock has spoken and it’s time to get down to the barn. It’s raining today and different challenges to meet. Yesterday was a bitterly cold 27 degrees, frosty white and beautiful.
Take care, keep safe, M
Ice, snow and rain are clearly only weather for ducks….and farmers. At any time of the day when the weather is unfavourable, a cursory glance into the Chicken Shack will find rows of chickens hunkered down, feathers puffed, eyes fixed like a vulture watching for movement, ANY movement that might just give them a good reason to leave their perch and stage an uprising . Adolph the Rhode Island Red Rooster is currently not looking at his best, in fact, truth be told, poor Adolph is looking very hen pecked. His shiny copper and bronze feathers have mostly disappeared, his beautiful blue, black and green rooster tail is gone and his bright red wattle is evidence of battles lost and won. Fights with other roosters ?…. no, poor docile Adolph is constantly beaten up by his harem of hens. Sad and balding, Adolf the rooster still struts amongst his ladies unaware of his unimposing appearance and habitually attempting to maintain order.
Henrietta the little red chick had ALMOST made me change my opinion of chickens. At feeding time “she” had made herself my ankle wrap. Entry into the chicken shack is fraught with danger. As the creaky wooden door opens and I step up the 2 x4 balanced on two rotten logs, trying desperately not to release a cloud of chickens hell bent on a breakout, Henrietta flutters to my feet. As I walk, “she” is with me, and often I bend down to gently pick up the little, quietly clucking bird. For weeks I have spent time cultivating her friendship. Yesterday I allowed myself to accept the truth, Henrietta my new friend is in reality, Henry a young rooster and roosters don't usually stay around here very long. DOH !!!!
Well, the cuckoo clock has spoken and it’s time to get down to the barn. It’s raining today and different challenges to meet. Yesterday was a bitterly cold 27 degrees, frosty white and beautiful.
Take care, keep safe, M
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