Yesterday was spent on a windy, cold hilltop with an accordion and no coat. I have been unable to get warm, so this afternoon, I covered myself in red fleece. With white accessories, I could be mistaken for Santa Claus at a distance.
Not by Buck, though.
This morning was spent hoeing out the coop and putting up nice branches for the girls as an alternative to being breathed on by a 12 lb rooster all night. The ladies have been picking the feathers out of Bucks neck. That will not feel good in a couple of weeks.
To hoe out and replenish the bedding and supplies in the coop I wore an ensemble consisting of ratty old jeans, crocs and a sweatshirt. My appearance did not spark any interest or aggression until I changed into red fuzzy clothing, and then Buck decided he really had to do something about the lowered standards.
He attacked me with full and undiluted attention. I had no shield nearby so I decided to grab him.
Easier said than done without a towel or a net. We had a tussle in which I got pecked numerous times, kicked and hissed at. He got pinned to the ground.
I picked him up - he didn't care for that either - and held him in my lap, stroked his feathers and told him he was a good chicken.Nice chicken.
Pretty Chicken....
His pupils dilated.
They constricted and dilated again.
He grumbled slightly. He allowed me to scratch his comb, tickle his neck and
when I put him on the ground he stood there, considered what to do next and then walked away.
I went into the house. After a few minutes, Buck and the ladies came 'round to see if there was any lettuce left for them or perhaps something more interesting. I'm not going back out there though.
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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.