May 3rd SOL #2 - What are ya...Chicken?

What are ya...Chicken?

Walking out the back door into my spring-rain-green backyard, I see them. Brown, white, speckled, with scaly yellow feet; my chickens push up against the chicken wire of their run, begging for the treats in my hand. Yummy sweet pepper tops with seeds, ends of cut green beans, and some old rice we never ate. It's not like they're starving, as they get their ration of organic chicken feed each morning, and their run is pocked with their scratchings for worms and other insects. But they squash each other anyway, fighting for position to be first in line.

Chicken Butts via photopin (license)

As usual, I walk around the coop to they sprint, in their velociraptor-like gaits, to the food I drop into their run. Henny is the matriarch and boldly pushes her way through the others, doling out sharp pecks to the head or necks of those who don't move quick enough. She always get her treats. Tawny colored Belle is the biggest and also at the bottom of the pecking order. She grabs a pepper top with seeds and sprints to the far end of the run while the other six hens squawk and peck at the rest. The rest are three are black and white speckled Wyandottes (Rocket, Ember, and Cinders), and two brown ones (Ginger and Stella).

  auntie eggs via photopin (license)

I open up the coop (with a hint of pride in my workmanships since I built it last fall) to see how many eggs we have. Yesterday we only got two, but the weather changed to rain and it seems like egg-laying is often related to the weather. Today, there are six eggs. They are brown and tan with a few speckles, and one light green egg, so I know Ginger laid an egg today. I wonder which hen did not lay an egg? We rarely get seven-egg days and usually have 4-6, enough to feed the three of us for breakfast and occasionally give away a dozen to a friend or neighbor.

These chickens are interesting. Not quite livestock (you don't really eat what you name ya know?), but not quite pets. Clara loves them and often picks them up for cuddles when they are out during the winter. When one died last fall, we held a burial service, only slightly less formal than the one we had for our beloved cat a couple of months later. They are about the most expensive eggs imaginable, but I'm glad we have them for their funny antics, their tasty eggs, and excuse to get outside each morning and evening to take care of them.