Our chickens are demanding little rascals - especially Snow and Nala, the Plymouth Rocks who have been living at our place now for more than a year.
I’m convinced that they see me as their slave, an underling whose purpose in life is to feed them treats at regular intervals, even if I'm busy with other chores, like cleaning their coop or lugging fresh water out to them.
The six-month-old newcomers, Rhode Island Reds Hope and Nellie, are still somewhat unsure of themselves after two months with us. They’re at the bottom of the pecking order, so they aren’t as bossy as the older girls.
But thanks to their insecurities, and their low standing in the flock, Hope and Nellie have created their own set of problems. They're still reluctant to leave the coop and head into the pen during the day, while Snow and Nala are out there. That complicates things. The four hens don't often eat together. And it’s harder to clean the coop when getting everyone to vacate the premises simultaneously is such a big production.
Yummy eggs from backyard chickens come at a price.
Having been out of town for the past week, I admit that I didn’t miss trudging out to the coop at the crack of dawn to release and feed the hens. Nor did I miss de-pooping the coop, periodically checking water bowls in the course of the day, finding raspberries and other exotic treats to silence the squawking, or tucking the girls in every night. Friends have been handling those jobs.
But we'll be heading home tomorrow, and I have to be honest. I’m looking forward to seeing my feathered troublemakers, even if they immediately start squawking that they’re overdue for snacks, and their coop isn’t as pristine as it should be, and they’re overdue for snacks, and their water bowls are a bit muddy because they stepped in them, and they’re overdue for snacks, and . . . .
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