There's one question about chicken behavior that I’d never even thought to ask. Until the answer presented itself, unbidden.
It happened last Thursday. I went out to the coop at dawn, to release the hens and give them food and water. "The girls" are always waiting for me when I arrive at that hour, bouncing around at the windows and squawking balefully to be let out, as if they’d been stuck inside for a week rather than overnight.
But not that morning. Even before I got back there, I realized something was amiss.
As I approached the coop, there were no chicken heads bobbing up and down. There was no clucking. No thrashing about in a desperate bid for freedom. No sign of life at all.
My panic quickly subsided as common sense kicked in. Either I was a bit early or the hens were a bit late. For possibly the first time ever, I got to the coop while the girls were still roosting and asleep.
They woke up in unison as soon as they heard me shuffling around outside. I know this because they began chattering all at once, within seconds of my arrival. It was as if someone had flipped a switch that instantly activated all four hens simultaneously.
From outside, I could tell the clucking came from a point just beneath the peak of the coop’s pitched roof, which meant they were still up there, on the roost. But only for a few seconds. When I placed their food and water bowls in the pen that’s attached to the coop, I heard the girls landing heavily on the coop floor, as they jumped down like poultry paratroopers.
Only then did I realize that I now had the answer to a question I’d never asked: Do chickens start clucking as soon as they awake? Or does it take them a few minutes to get their engines running, like a human who can't function without that first cup of coffee?
As I approached the coop, there were no chicken heads bobbing up and down. There was no clucking. No thrashing about in a desperate bid for freedom. No sign of life at all.
My panic quickly subsided as common sense kicked in. Either I was a bit early or the hens were a bit late. For possibly the first time ever, I got to the coop while the girls were still roosting and asleep.
They woke up in unison as soon as they heard me shuffling around outside. I know this because they began chattering all at once, within seconds of my arrival. It was as if someone had flipped a switch that instantly activated all four hens simultaneously.
From outside, I could tell the clucking came from a point just beneath the peak of the coop’s pitched roof, which meant they were still up there, on the roost. But only for a few seconds. When I placed their food and water bowls in the pen that’s attached to the coop, I heard the girls landing heavily on the coop floor, as they jumped down like poultry paratroopers.
Only then did I realize that I now had the answer to a question I’d never asked: Do chickens start clucking as soon as they awake? Or does it take them a few minutes to get their engines running, like a human who can't function without that first cup of coffee?
The answer, I can say from experience, is the former. Unless she’s sick, a conscious hen is a talking hen, from the very moment she opens her eyes to a new day.
 |
| Snow, Nala, Hope and Nellie . . . awake and searching for treats. |
No comments:
Post a Comment