What's been happening down the red dirt road...
I tripped over right outside the chicken coop, and I swear, all of the chickens looked up and cackled at me. In unison.
I'm glad I entertain them as well as everything else. You think there would be some compassion between us as we are all on that feminine wavelength, but no, let's laugh at her, jump the coop every now and then, let her chase us around, and let's turn our noses up at her gluten-free bread. We don't need any of that stuff.
Having chickens in the garden for me is a welcome balance. I live in a masculine household where the only female energy besides myself is the ageing Pomeranian "Poppy" and the five little chicken ladies.
Raised as well as any other babies, we hatched out Black Orpingtons Yoko, Zelda and Robot Chicken, then a year later white hybrids Buttercup and Blondie.
They were cheeky chickens from the outset, trying to jump out of their box and once succeeded, found playing with my three-year-old on the kitchen tiles, providing many fluffy hugs and kisses before they moved outside.
And not into any old shack I might add. They moved into a swish hipster UK made, Nasa designed, ergonomic, heat controlled structure that could be tractored around the garden. Nothing but the finest! La dee dah!
Fed our lush vegetable cuttings, organic poultry feed and good country sponges, I think perhaps I have spoilt them.
The girly bond that we share is unique though. They talk to me, using different sounds to tell me their food is empty, or the water has run out. They get especially loud when they want to be moved onto new grass. Bossy boots they are.
Many a time I've had to go out to break up fights between the black one and the white one. Pecking order disputes no doubt. Never a dull moment.
Be like Zelda.
* For those not living in Australia an RDO means - Rostered Day Off.
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