MIA

I was on line at my usual daybreak hour, but really didn't want to write anything today until I'd gone out to see the chickens this morning.  I knew last night that I had counted only eleven beaks at bedtime, and I was hoping against hope that Rosy, the Rose Comb Hamburg, had just hidden under the barn at dusk and would greet me for breakfast.  No...she's gone missing.  Chatty Cathy, one of the Rhodies, has taken over for Tattle-Tale Tessie, and she follows me around and tells me all the misdeeds of the others and the doings of the day.  Unlike Tessie, who used to whisper in very confidential tones, Cathy is the town crier, with a loud, raucous voice reminiscent of Marjorie Main (Ma Kettle).  Cathy also announces the arrival of every egg throughout the day.  Bessie Anne and I hear her yelling, go to see if there's a problem, and find that all is well...it's just Cathy sounding off.  There was a ruckus yesterday, but I guess Cathy had cried wolf/coyote/fox once too often and we didn't pay a lot of attention.  (I was reconciling my checkbook and like to focus when facing depression.)  We had to be downwind, because Bessie stood at the open door but didn't find any wild scents in the air...and we lost Rosy.

In retrospect, it was a grey fox and not a coyote who made the last, unsuccessful raid in the backyard.  I knew it was smaller and had a pointier face, but was more concerned with saving the chicken than asking for ID.  I guess we'll just have to listen a little more closely to Cathy, false alarms or not.

A pertinent question might be why I don't clip the wings of the free rangers to prevent them from getting out of their pen.  The answer is that I've had bad luck clipping the wings of chickens who've already learned to fly.  Donna was a prime example.  Knowing that she could fly the day before, she took off in standard fashion, but couldn't get equal lift from both wings and crashed and burned, ending up paralyzed and spending the rest of her days in the laundry room, a wingaplegic.  Stumpy, my one-legged chicken, is about all of of the special-needs hens I can deal with right now. 

I stand reprimanded and chastened, having been MIA myself today.  Judy called, checking to see if I were okay because I hadn't yet made an entry, and I see from Kathryn's comment that she also checked in this morning.  The omission was not done on purpose (well, there was a reason), but the responses are very reassuring on two fronts.  As a single woman in an isolated environment, it's very nice to know that my neighbor and friend keeps an eye out for me.  As a writer, it's very nice to know that my words are being read.  If, in the future, I have nothing to say on any given day...I'll say so!  I don't want to cry wolf, even by omission.