Crazy in the coop

My hens become big busybodies when I gather eggs.  They hop up next to me to watch and critique every move I make.  They poke their heads into the basket and peck the eggs, crawl over my hands in the nests and make a general nuisance of themselves.  Certainly the ladies are entitled to a sense of ownership over their embryos.  But I’m entitled to my sanity.  So I hatched a win/win plan.


I started bringing treats with me to scatter on the floor and serve as a distraction so that I could collect the eggs in peace.  Every household scrap got saved for this purpose.

"Table scraps" translated into Chickenese means "Chateaubriand with bearnaise sauce and cabernet".

This works well.  Too well.

Now, instead of a few hens to annoy me as I collect eggs, the whole lot mobs me as soon as I open the coop door.  With necks outstretched and beady eyes glittering with greed, they hold me at beak point.  I throw the scraps over their heads and pandemonium erupts.  The cackling mass lunges for the food and the air in the coop goes murky as dust and feathers fly.  My basket clutched close to my chest, I slip through the melee and make a break for the nests.  My fingers tremble as I make haste, trying not to crack the eggs.

I peek around the nests to scope out my retreat.  I jump back to avoid a hen sprinting past with a beak full of stale bread.  Two locals are hot on her talons but she fakes a left and eludes them.  I dash to the door, slam it behind me and lean back, gasping and relieved.  I’ve forayed into the battle zone, seized the plunder and emerged victorious.  Mission accomplished.


One response to this post.

  1. Posted by suzen on January 12, 2012 at 9:38 pm

    thats funny. i can so see you standing outside the door gasping with relief!!


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