June 18, 2013
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The Ladies Arrive
My Beloved has left me for another woman. Four of them, actually: three isa browns and a sex-link. And she is taking the dogs with her.
Fortunately they’re just out in the back yard.
These are calm, Relaxed chickens. They were raised by a Newfoundland, so something as small and insignificant as Annie does not concern them. (Apparently Hadley June, the Newfie, got too close for comfort once, and was nose-pecked for her efforts.) They are teen-agers, not adult chickens. Nonetheless, they rode from Marcellus to Three Rivers in a dog crate (they were raised in the dog crate, so they’re fine there) and eventually released into their new home in the back of our shed. Immediately they began their quest for food and water. That satisfied, they were perfectly content to settle in and take a nap, even with a grown adult sitting in a lawn chair at the end of the shed, watching them.
This morning they were released into their yard.
Whimsically enough, the most disturbing response to the chickens was not Annie’s: she did pretty much what I expected she would do, and eventually she calmed down.
Riley, on the other hand, identified his life goal: MUST EAT CHICKENS…. (He has since recovered and is now napping on the couch again.) We had another Eye of the Tiger breakfast, and now he’s good for the day. But for a while there he was a quivering, whining, pulsating mess of purpose-driven predator.
This is the truth: My Beloved, in a flannel shirt, tennis shoes and her nightgown, is sitting in a lawn chair in the shed, watching her chickens.
I am married to the chicken lady.
