I hate going out to the chicken house at night. I don't do it on purpose. I always have the intent to get chores done during daylight hours but sometimes things get in the way: telephone calls, homework, dishes, dinner.......you know, life. The problem is that my chickens are
special chickens. They don't sleep on the roosts I made especially for them. No. They have to roost in the rafters of the little, red chicken coop. So when I find myself out there in the night, this is what I have waiting for me: chicken fannies. 15 chicken fannies to be exact. They pretend to be asleep but they are really positioning themselves to bomb me......just for the sport of it. They think it's funny. They probably even take bets to see which one of them will release the perfectly executed poop that lands on my head. I can sometimes hear them whispering and giggling to each other when I stomp into the coop with my headlamp in place on my head. They might just be laughing at my headlamp. (It makes my hair stick up.) But I think they are planning a bombing.
I quickly dish out chicken crumbles, rabbit suppers and distribute fresh water for all. Then I gather the eggs from the day. This is the real reason I make a run into the live ammunition loaded coop. The eggs. Poo or no poo, it's always worth the trip.
There. Did you hear that? I think that black one on the left, in the back just laughed at me.
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