Chickens are weird. Sometimes that’s all I can think to say.
These determined chickens evaded that coop despite snacks, heat, forcible relocation and even bitter cold.
Or at least I thought it was bitter cold.
We finally had a night with below zero temperatures, something that happens here in the high desert in the winter. It was cold! My nose froze on the inside whenever I took a breath. The water bowls froze so hard and fast, they still had little waves. The steam from the nearby power plant huddled together in the air, as if the water molecules didn’t want to leave the herd.
And even the chickens seemed to want to sleep together. Worried, I went out several times to check on them and finally decided to bring them some baked apples, just to add a little extra heat.
Specklehead, determined to prove wrong my hypothesis about the chickens being cold, had moved out onto the roost, by herself. I peered into the coop and there she was, all fluffed up and sleeping.
“Fine,” I mumbled. ”I’ll bury these hot apples in the bedding underneath you, just to give you a little extra heat.”
She opened one eye.
I quietly dug a shallow hole, dropped the apples in and buried them again.
She opened her other eye and looked at me suspiciously.
“It’s just for heat,” I protested.
She pointed her head down and looked nervously at the place where the apples were buried. Then she shuffled over to the other side of the roost.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Chicken!”, I said.
I swear I almost heard her say, “I was sound asleep! Leave me alone!”. She jumped off the roost and, turning her back on me, rejoined the rest of the flock behind the partition.
We are different species, me and them. We just can’t get around it!
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