If you look closely, you’ll see her. Steathily crawling across the ground, trying to look nothing like the lady who brings you treats. You stop. Tilt your head. Baka? Baka? You look at her. What is she doing? What is that thing in her hand? Can I eat it? You waddle across the yard as fast as your short, fat little body will take you and stop. BAKA…oh no, it’s her. The chicken paparazzi. RUN!!
This is one of the twins. I’m not sure which. She thinks she’s the queen, but she’s not. Don’t tell the rest of the flock, but she happens to be my favorite. So pretty. So full of personality. Yummy eggs. Her sister. Hates the camera. And apparently me. I am NOT chicken food. So no picture of the other twin today.
Tessa. She’s beginning to outgrow her awkward stage. I try to not compare her to Clara, my previous Buff, a darling girl with ton of spark and personality. Tessa, well, she’s kind of lacking in the chicken intelligence department. If the fox is nearby, ready to spring, don’t count on her to keep quiet. She’ll let it know exactly where they are. She talks. Non-Stop. Sometimes to the point that I yell, “TESSA BE QUIET!” As if chickens obey me.
Samoa. What a bird. I try to not laugh when I see her. The other day someone asked what happened to her neck. It’s there. She just prefers to adorn it with feathers. She is content being in her own little world. While the other four greedily gobble up the worms, she’s busy taking her time looking at the grass. Because, you know, she’s never seen grass before. She does lay the most beautiful green eggs.
Lea. The baby. The youngest. The meanest girl in the bunch and the queen of it all. If there’s a top hen, it’s her. She struts like there is no bird finer than her. If she doesn’t want a girl around her, LOOK out! And heaven forbid if you happen to open the door while she’s laying an egg! This is one tough girl. She should have had a name like Gertrude or Bertha. There’s one in every batch.
Who knew that five birds could keep me entertained and busy? Who knew that my favorite part of the day would be watching them gobble the worms, five fuzzy chicken butts bopping up and down? Who knew that I would be the crazy chicken lady?
At the end of the day…there’s just nothing cuter than the chicken’s fluffy backside.