chickens everywhere

I'm housesitting right now. Part of my duties include tending the chickens (plus three ducks and a turkey, which apparently will be someone's Thanksgiving dinner this year).

Chickens are interesting little critters. There are about 20 or so of them here, and they seem to run the gamut of chickendom. There's a crazy-looking one with wild feathers coming out the top of its head and flopping down over its eyes. A rooster that faithfully cock-a-doodle-doos in morning, even if it's still in the little chicken-house because I haven't yet stumbled out of bed to release them into the rising sunlight. There's a very sweet orange-red-creamy-colored one that rushes right up to me whenever I'm in their pen and looks up at me adoringly. Perhaps it's just hungry and wants to see what sort of treats I may have brought. But it's still very sweet in its attempt to communicate with me via Chickenese.

I get to benefit by having as many fresh eggs as I want, warm from sitting under little chicken butts all night long. Pippin already enjoyed one (an egg, not a chicken butt) mixed in with his dry food this morning. Of course, I also have to guard against marauders, such as the rather pleasant-appearing little cat that was just in the pen. The chickens (and ducks and huge turkey) actually didn't seem to mind the cat. I wouldn't either, really, since this particular cat is on the small side, and it really didn't seem at all interested in committing any feline mischief. But just to be on the safe side, I deposited it on the other side of the fence.

Ah, life in the boonies. I need not worry about drive-by shootings, commuters insane with traffic-induced rage, or smog. Nope, all I have to concern myself with is keeping the chickens safe. And then eating their eggs. Bon appetit!

chickens everywhere