My poor loyal ladies have been getting the short end of the stick since the sheep arrived. I am noticing that I have no food in the refrigerator; we are out of canned cat food so the cats are making do with milk and dry food; the chickens have scratched all they can and need to be moved; the sheep have everything they need.
The ladies were so happy to move. You can see them go “whoa– whoa – whoa” as the chicken tractor is rolling into the new spot (with them in it, of course). Then as soon as I open the chicken door, they shoot out of there and start scratching
like mad women.
There is only 4 left out of the original 15 chickens. The others moved to a farm where they have 30 acres to roam and a
husband. I really felt their absence when they left:
There was Zena, named after the TV Warrior Princess, who would take on anyone that tried to mess with the flock. Once my cat Raindrop thought it would be a fun afternoon to chase a few chickens around the yard, and found herself facing
Zena, who had pulled up to her full 8 inches in height and with fluffed feathers, no less, staring her down. Raindrop slunk away quickly.
Jenny loved to sing, and she sang to herself all day. She had such a melodious voice – trilling rather than baak-ing. So I named her Jenny after Jenny Lind, the opera singer. Jenny also had a tendency to return late to the coop at sundown. Everybody would be in, and Jenny would still be out there scratching. Once she really did forget, and I didn’t notice she
wasn’t in, so I closed the chicken door. The next morning, I found Jenny sitting near the coop, scared and cold. She was so happy to be back with her family. A few days later, as walked to the coop at sunset to close their door, Jenny came running down the slope as fast as she could, baak-baak’ing loudly: “I’m coming! I’m coming!” I think that was the only time I heard her “baak”.
Brownie was the incomparable escape artist. No matter what I did, Brownie found a way to get out of the chicken yard and roam free. I would say, “Brownie, you are a very bad chicken!” She would cock her head and look at me. Never did catch Brownie when she got out.
Then there were the two Pretty Birds, because they looked exactly alike. One of them (the fat one) liked to sit on my lap. The other one would sometimes get jealous when she saw the first Pretty Bird on my lap, and she would peck her. Other than that, they were best buddies.
And all the others, with their unique ‘chickenalities’… I do know that Little Red, their new husband, was rather low on the rooster totem pole at their new farm. Then Little Red got this harem of gorgeous ladies!!! I hear he is now the envy of all the other boys. It goes with the statistic showing that married men score highest on the happiness scale.