Life of a Chicken Servant
I have started a bad, bad thing.
Our 2 remaining hens from last year have become rather devoted to their human flock. When they see us outside, they come running and follow us around like dogs. They are literally always under foot.
And so when I leave for work in the morning, they have to come over and cackle at me and tell me their plans for the day. So it was only natural that I started sharing my breakfast with them as I got in the car. I tend to eat breakfast while d...riving to work, so they have been getting a treat pretty regularly when I leave. A little crust of toast, part of a muffin... you know, just a little treat to start their day off right.
Our 2 remaining hens from last year have become rather devoted to their human flock. When they see us outside, they come running and follow us around like dogs. They are literally always under foot.
And so when I leave for work in the morning, they have to come over and cackle at me and tell me their plans for the day. So it was only natural that I started sharing my breakfast with them as I got in the car. I tend to eat breakfast while d...riving to work, so they have been getting a treat pretty regularly when I leave. A little crust of toast, part of a muffin... you know, just a little treat to start their day off right.
Except now they DEMAND their breakfast and things have become critical.
Lately, if I don't produce their expected feast the moment I sit down in my car, I get cackled at with increasing intensity until I hand over their portion. They crowd in and eye me rather fiercely, making their wishes very easy to understand.
Today I didn't have any breakfast. Evie and I had gotten up early enough to actually enjoy breakfast at our kitchen table.
I showed them my empty hands. I tried shooing them away. To no avail. Instead, they simply jumped in....right on top of me...while I was wearing my "nice" office clothes. They were like two tiny little dinosaur chieftains, ready to wreak havoc on me for failing in my "duties".
I managed to thump them back out and then, in a moment of being a total failure of a human being, I may have actually walked back into the house and fetched a granola bar for them. I get it now---like cats, chickens do not have masters, they have servants.
(also note Gus the dog in the background...sitting like a good boy while the chickens attack me for food.)
Lately, if I don't produce their expected feast the moment I sit down in my car, I get cackled at with increasing intensity until I hand over their portion. They crowd in and eye me rather fiercely, making their wishes very easy to understand.
Today I didn't have any breakfast. Evie and I had gotten up early enough to actually enjoy breakfast at our kitchen table.
I showed them my empty hands. I tried shooing them away. To no avail. Instead, they simply jumped in....right on top of me...while I was wearing my "nice" office clothes. They were like two tiny little dinosaur chieftains, ready to wreak havoc on me for failing in my "duties".
I managed to thump them back out and then, in a moment of being a total failure of a human being, I may have actually walked back into the house and fetched a granola bar for them. I get it now---like cats, chickens do not have masters, they have servants.
(also note Gus the dog in the background...sitting like a good boy while the chickens attack me for food.)
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