It has been a challenging morning. Have you ever noticed how we use the word 'challenging' to mean horrible, disastrous, or just plain lousy? I mean all those things and more. So much more.
But first a little background to set the stage. These chickens - all 10 of them - are rapidly becoming my least favorite animals ever. They have dug up our yard, our gardens, etc. etc. They run everywhere; they poop everywhere; they never come when called. I have spent way too many of my declining years (all right, it FEELS like years) chasing them down at night. They lay eggs in every inaccessible place in 4 acres.
So we finally sequestered them in their chicken coop and the surrounding coop yard. We also clipped their wings: AGAIN! They didn't like it. They were vociferous in their protests. It reminded me of Chicago in '68. I think they were most upset at losing access to their shrine to the dearly departed Auntie Hen. You may remember that we had a hen whose curiosity led her to stick her head in the possum trap. History will record that curiosity killed its first chicken that day.
A few weeks back we reinstated said trap into the driveway verge and ever since we have had hens sitting at the shrine. First they dug a really, really big dirt hole. Then they assigned hours and each chicken takes her turn at sitting reverently at the shrine. Now that they are cooped up, no shrine vigil. Religious rage fuels their every squawk.
We have also been doing battle with a nest of rats under the coop. The rats don't seem to bother the chickens but they do bother us. So we set a trap for them. No rats, but to date we have trapped (and disposed of) 4 hedgehogs. The last hedgehog was dispatched this morning. Cue a rising screech of horrified hen sounds.
I walk to the coop to try and calm our feathered friends. As I bend over the fence, one 'friend' flies up into my face, talons out and voice on high. I reel back and hit a tree resoundingly with the back of my head. As the chicken lands and I start shaking my pain filled head, a rat runs over my foot. Now I could have been hallucinating, after all I just got a concussion from the tree collision, but I could swear I heard "Farmyard friends 1, humans 0" and a heartfelt cheer from the coop enclosure.
Two hours have passed and so has much of my headache but I have hauled up the proverbial white flag. The farmyard has won; I will spend the day inside. Better yet, I will spend the rest of the day in bed. Going to bed at 10:30 in the morning sounds just fine to me!
