Friday, April 15, 2011
Tales from the Roost: Puff
I'm one of a band of chickens. I live in a little red coop atop a little hill in an area that I like to call "the farm." I've heard the oldest boy call it that too. It is my understanding that I "belong" to him now instead of to the nice lady with the worms and sunflower seeds. No matter. She still comes and -
Wait, a butterfly! Oh, an orange one. Dancing just over the flowers over there.
Where was I? Yes, I'm one of several chickens here. My name is Puff. I am a blue cochin and let's be honest. I'm the prettiest one.
I may not be the best layer. Sometimes, I get tired of just sitting in the nest and I'll get up before the egg has come out. It lolls about in the coop then instead of the nesting box but the sunflower seed lady still finds it! True, sometimes my eggs plop out at night when I'm on the roost and not paying attention. The worm lady clucks when that happens and then puts in some more of those crushed oyster shells to up our calcium. None of it really matters though because looks will get you everywhere! I just strut about with my bouffant blue feathers and all rolled or dropped eggs are forgotten.
Then there are those times, huh - a worm, in the ground, something . . . No just a twig. Interesting one though.
Oh yes, there are those times when my maternal instincts kick in. You see as much as I enjoy my coop-mates, I really would like to be a mother. I've tried many times before. Flattening myself to pancake size over a few laid eggs to try and hatch some chicks. The then not-so-nice lady coos and calls me "broody", right before sticks her cold hand under me and yanks out the eggs I've been keeping warm. Hey! How can I hatch them if they aren't there. She often pulls me out too and makes me walk around the garden. I show her though. Spreading my wings and nattering about, I protect the chicks I may never have. As heartbreaking as it is, it is better not to dwell on -
That is a worm!! I just know it. Under the pine needles over there past the baby oak tree. Oh, you are still here? Well, gotta run. There are worms to be gobbled, sun to be soaked in and - there's that butterfly again!