Those Crazy Kids

Because of unfortunate past experience with my neighbor's dogs, anytime the chickens fire off squawking I hit the panic button and go see that they're okay.  Several times lately, I've heard the little girls hollering, but all seemed calm when I looked out.  Yesterday, two hens were strolling on the deck, pecking once in awhile in the flower pots for stray bugs, but headed for the corner off the dining room.  The land slopes away at the back of the house, and this corner of the deck is fifteen feet or more from the ground.  I watched as these thrill-seeking kids, one at a time, leaped from the edge, yelling "Geronimo!" as they fluttered and flapped all the way down.  So that's what all the ruckus has been about...just chickens having fun.

There was a sad consequence for a male hummingbird who was evidently proving his macho to a reflection in the big window, and I found the tiny body when I was outside last evening.  It's so rare to have the opportunity to really study a hummingbird up close.  The body could not have weighed a whole ounce and felt like nothing in my hand.  The head feathers that appear such a brilliant ruby in flight are actually a magenta red, mixed with an iridescent gold-orange, but the emerald green of the back are truly green, blending to a dark grey at the tail.  Little jewels, nature's treasures.

The other morning I watched a sparrow fluttering on the ground, going up the front walkway, and Pearl slinking along a few feet behind.  The trick here is not to watch where the bird is going, but to see where it came from.  It was a parent bird, drawing the cat away from the nest I found in the hedge in front of the house.  As soon as the parent felt the cat was sufficiently distracted, it took off flying, leaving a disappointed Pearl behind.

The Patter of Tiny Feet

I get such a kick out of the little girls at bedtime.   A number fly over the fence in the morning to free range, laying their eggs in the hay barn, and most fly back into the pen at dusk.  There are those, however, who prefer to wait until I open the gate for them to rejoin the flock.  When I go out to attend to nighttime chores, these "leftovers" come running to me like puppies, and I hear their pat-pat-pat as they follow me to the feed shed, running to keep up.  The back of that shed is up a couple of steps, and they hop up after me to make sure I get the nighttime snacks.  The other night, I got the snacks, went back to the pen, everyone went in and I shut the coop doors.  As I walked around the shed to go to the goats, I heard a chicken in distress, but where?  It seems one adventurous girl had gone into the shed after me and got herself shut in.  "Help!  Help!  It's dark in here and I'm all alone!"  Unlike Stumpy, the free-rangers don't normally let me pick them up, but this frightened hen practically leaped into my arms.  I took her back and tucked her in with the others...she now stays at the bottom of the steps.  Who needs TV for drama?