Crying Fowl

I’ve got the day off from the 9-5, so I am sitting in the three season porch this morning enjoying the sunrise. I would probably rather be at work, as later this morning I have to go to the Dr. to have my knee drained and shot full of drugs - it won’t be pleasant. The crippling arthritis that is slowly eating my body has decided to fast track my left knee and see if it can get it replaced with plastic and steel. It just might succeed. Robofarmer to the rescue!

As I write this our newest kitty (Maxine) sits in the windowsill looking out at her property for the first time. We brought her home last night after dark, so she’s just now seeing what she’s up against. Mrs. Roper called me several days ago whining about a cat that was going to be put down on Thursday because it didn’t have a home and wouldn’t we just LOVE to save it. Soooo, here we are with another cat. Sheesh. This one is so cute and scared. She was an indoor kitten, so now is not the time to introduce her to the barn - it is 10 degrees right now with a nice layer of snow. I’m not an indoor pet person, but I’ve got a heart!

After talking with a friend at work I decided that it would be a good idea to share the vagaries of fowl with the outside world. Chickens really are quite entertaining specimens. I could sit and watch their work for hours at a time. Truth be known, the combined time I have spent out there at the coop ranges in the days rather than hours. That coop is really just a smaller version of this whole world we live in. Some of them even remind me of people I know.

Chickens have quite the pecking order. There are the nosey ones, the sweet ones, and the ones that were mean in high school and still are. As they start to grow and establish this pecking order it is kind of hard to see them repeatedly picking on some poor hen and giving her the run-around, but it is all for the greater good. They need a place to fit in their society - kind of like the comfortable world that we live in each day. There’s always that one that you just know the other hens talk about, too. The one out here is a little buff Orpington who is obviously a little smaller than the rest. She’s psychotic. She always has somewhere to go at high speed and isn’t afraid to run over others in her path to get there. When I walk up to the fence she acts like I just put her in there and she can’t wait to get back out and see the world again. Mind you, she’s got a huge and secure yard. I haven’t told her that the only way she’s getting out is stuffed with garlic and rosemary, but I will if she pisses me off.

I find it a good idea to talk to them like humans. It makes the tough discussions we have to have much easier. When I find a broken egg in the nesting boxes it is much easier to have a team meeting if they know my approach. This must be why I find it necessary to greet them each day. They look at me like I have two heads, but I don’t care. Each morning I throw open the coop door and say really loud, “Good Morning, Chicken Family!” You know, like Tye does on Most Extreme Home Makeover. I don’t have the bullhorn, don’t worry. It doesn’t incite a riot about where they are going on vacation or what their new house will look like, but it does cause a stir over the cracked corn they are about to get. They all like to scream “Move that bus!” at the end of the day, too.

If the weather is especially windy or cold I close the door to the outside yard at dusk. Since the light comes on in the chicken house at 4:00 in the morning, they stand patiently waiting to get out the next morning (if a chicken doesn’t have at least 14 hours of sunlight they won’t lay nearly as much). When I open that door in the morning they come shooting out of that house like it’s on fire. I refer to it as the “Chinese Chicken Fire Drill”. It really does look like a gang of teenagers running around a car at a stoplight. Fights usually break out because one of them got a larger piece of corn that was just scattered. They are after their paycheck, man. It immediately sounds like it is hailing as their beaks peck the hard ground getting every possible speck of food. Chickens love to pick out little things that are round to eat. God help the rolly polly. Or pinkie toe.

Chickens snore. Honest. They are some noisy sleepers. Must be what it sounds like over at Sunset Acres when the old folks are done watching Wheel of Fortune. I think they can poop while they sleep, though. That’s the only explanation for the amount of cleaning I have to do in there. Come to think of it, they can poop while doing anything (except chewing gum).

In case you were wondering, roosters crowing at sunrise is a myth. THEY CROW ALL DAY! It is actually a way for them to mark their territory. I think I would prefer that they lifted their leg, though, as these two are at it all day. One sings first tenor, the other is more like a soprano - both at the top of their lungs. It also isn’t necessary for them to open their mouth and stretch their necks - they can do it ventriloquist style. The first time they crowed it sounded like speech class full of pubescent boys at the high school. All of the hens whirled around and looked at them like they has just announced their bid for President. The hens have their own “crow” as well. They always brag after they lay an egg. In doesn’t seem to draw a crowd to congratulate them, but they do it anyway. I can tell when someone has laid an egg if I am in the house, the silo, or the north shed. I usually yell thank you. When you don’t have neighbors the chances of looking like a freak go down considerably.

OK, kids, that’s about enough. It’s time for me to hold the new kitty and sip my tea. Ah, the joys of another day in the country.

TJR