We drove out to this farm in the middle of nowhere, an exceptionally tall man came out of the house, and I had the opportunity to say something I've always wanted to say:
"I'm here to see a man about a chicken."
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It turns out there's a peak age for a showing hen, and our little number seven (she has a number seven band on her leg) has peaked, and now she's old news. She was a winner, but nothing gold can stay.
The poor dear went and hid after we brought her home:
It must be horrible to be rubbing feathers with such commoners.
Little Z said she saw Friend Chicken peck Number 7 (who has a name, but darned if I can remember it- I want to call her Seven of Nine) repeatedly. "She pecked her, like, twenty times!" said Little Z. Not very friendly, Friend Chicken!
I checked in on Seven of Nine later, and she was doing fine, no longer hiding. She looked gorgeous. The only thing was, she didn't know where to sit.
She's a great beauty!
ReplyDeleteShe's also very friendly. I was just out petting her back in the barn. Then I tried petting some of the little chickens next to her, and they seemed to like that. So I pet some of the older chickens, and they let me, too. They are all so soft! I even pet Pokey the Rooster. My goodness. So many pretty chickens.
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