Last evening my “girls” were out in the driveway, running from plant to plant and gobbling up everything in sight. The forest floor is pretty wilted right now, so the girls weren’t finding much greenery that suited them. When one of them found a good morsel, somehow the others knew about it instantly and rushed over to get their own share or, barring that, to steal it from their sister.
The chickens get to roam around outside most evenings. I don’t leave them outside unsupervised during the day or when I’m gone. I have one that likes to tease Baby Dog by hopping up on the front porch and looking in the storm door at the dog. That drives Baby Dog crazy. Chickens are a lot funnier than I expected. They know when they see me carrying a little silver colander that there’s something inside it for them. And then they come running from wherever they are to scoop up the treat. Blueberries are their favorite. Never get between a chicken and her blueberries. You’ll be trampled.
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2 comments:
A think chickens are a hoot and I love their contented little song.
Cicero, I love that little purring sound they make too. I'm always amazed at how much expression chickens have in their sounds. I can tell when they are happy, when they think something is dangerous, even if nothing bad has happened yet. You can really tell what's going on around the woods just by paying attention to their sounds.
Carolyn H.
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