Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Some people have better manners than others.

Buck won't have anything to do with the new girls.  He's pretending they don't exist.  His ladies are another story.  They sit up on the perch spitting racial or social or fowl epithets down into the single nesting box in the corner where the new hens {Becky, Barbie and Bibs}  are all piled on top of one another trying to resemble a pile of something - not chickens.
When they are let out, Buck and the bridge club go off on their accustomed route starting with begging at the door, then lurking around corners followed by sneaking on to the porch and hiding under the furniture and grumbling about the unfairness of life.
The New Girls head for the fenced in garden where they clean the plants of bugs, and clean the earth of plants, lie around in the dirt and whisper among themselves.
It all feels way too much like a middle school dance to make me feel as though they will work it out.
I'm relying on everyone's natural forgiveness.
Maybe it works better with chickens.

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Glad to hear from you, but criticisms will be ignored. It's the beauty of the web. I will answer all friendly remarks. Buck handles the rest.