Stay out of my parsley, girls. I know it's you.
Whenever our squeaky back door opens, the sound sends chickens running from all directions in the expectation that something delicious is being brought to them. How pavlovian. Just yesterday, however, the girls discovered the door from which the squeak and the subsequent treats come.
Yo, we know you're in there.
Bring me blueberries.
Sometimes I stop and think ... what a strange life I lead.
At our old house, one of the chickens would come up the stairs onto the deck and peck on the glass sliding door when she thought treats should be handed out.
ReplyDeleteWhat a great post. You're such a good writer and photographer.
ReplyDeleteMy girls all come running when they hear my car pull into the driveway (after work) and come to a stop. They jam themselves up against the pen door, pushing and shoving to be first one out-the-door or to get-the-treats. They have a good sized pen, but they yearn to roam the full expanse of the yard -- except when there's snow.
The other day, I opened the pen door for them and they began their roadrunner race to get out, only to come to a screeching halt at the snow and ice just outside the door. No cold feet for these ladies.
Perhaps the girls want me to lay a carpet of straw or hay over the snow throughout the yard, so they can roam at will. Sorry girls, we all have to wait for Spring to see the lawn again.
I bought them treats today to keep them content: green beans, cabbage and broccoli were on sale.
I love the photo of the barred rock hen peering in your door. They're very tidy hens, too. No poop on your patio or wall.
ReplyDeleteChickens make me laugh!
ReplyDeleteHow does Spike handle it when they are peeking in his house? Calmly and quietly, I'm sure! Hahaha!
ReplyDeleteChickens make me laugh, too.
ReplyDeleteThey lighten my stress from work.
Chickens make me laugh, too.
ReplyDeleteAnd they lighten the stress load from work.
I call my girls "therapy chickens". Ha ha ha