Unlike roosters, hens don’t usually make a racket. They tend to go about their business fairly quietly, clucking gently unless something frightens them enough to send them into sky-is-falling mode.
There is one predictable exception to this pattern of good behavior, however. When a hen lays an egg, there is a good chance that she or her confederates will launch into a prolonged rendition of what Liz and I call the egg song. At these times, the “singer” (or singers) honks loudly like a deranged goose, but with a chicken accent. It’s an abrasive, even unpleasant sound that might make the listener wonder why anyone would think keeping chickens is a good idea.
This happened one day last week, but with one significant twist. When the egg song shattered the morning calm and continued for several minutes, I went out to the coop thinking I would find two of our three hens in the pen and the third one in the nest box, either laying an egg or recovering from the experience.
Instead, all three hens were outside and, surprisingly, there was no egg to be found. So although the egg song is most commonly associated with laying, that obviously isn’t always the case. For some unknown reason, the hills were alive with the sound of "music" that morning, and although the cause remains a mystery, I’m quite sure it had nothing to do with raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens.
There is one predictable exception to this pattern of good behavior, however. When a hen lays an egg, there is a good chance that she or her confederates will launch into a prolonged rendition of what Liz and I call the egg song. At these times, the “singer” (or singers) honks loudly like a deranged goose, but with a chicken accent. It’s an abrasive, even unpleasant sound that might make the listener wonder why anyone would think keeping chickens is a good idea.
This happened one day last week, but with one significant twist. When the egg song shattered the morning calm and continued for several minutes, I went out to the coop thinking I would find two of our three hens in the pen and the third one in the nest box, either laying an egg or recovering from the experience.
Instead, all three hens were outside and, surprisingly, there was no egg to be found. So although the egg song is most commonly associated with laying, that obviously isn’t always the case. For some unknown reason, the hills were alive with the sound of "music" that morning, and although the cause remains a mystery, I’m quite sure it had nothing to do with raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens.
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