After the long siege of wintry weather, this past Saturday, given the nice mild weather, my Good Wife and I set out to repair some of the damage inflicted on our landscape by the snow and ice. In that venture we were supported and encouraged by the presence of Gladys and Henry. Of late, Gladys appears to be appreciably more involved in familial matters.
She has reduced the incidence of boisterous honking and has begun acknowledging our presence. Perhaps having taken a lesson from Henry, she now responds when spoken to, and seems to be a slight bit less bossy and demanding. On occasion, she will let the other feathered family members eat their meals in peace without having to work around her insufferably condescending presence.
Quack I and Quack II both stand back, recognizing her preponderant superiority, and the hens, who have been producing eggs galore, despite the frigid weather conditions, display a more relaxed and less paced behavior, enjoying the new modicum of freedom that Gladys is according them. For his part, Henry remains one of the most gentlemanly creatures I ever have known. Unlike Gladys with her booming articulations, Henry’s tone of voice is totally mellifluous and pleasant to the ears, a true musical joy to hear him honk.
As we proceeded with gathering the fallen branches and delivering them to the burn pile, Henry took it all in stride. He likes to be part of the domestic scene, and if a gaggle of geese happens to fly over honking away, he will return the honk, but with the understanding that he is not interested in joining them on their migratory flight, be it northward or southward. He is refined and cultured in showing his gratitude, but I think that he also is sufficiently intelligent to realize that he has the proverbial “good thing” going. After all, why would he want to fly off into a world where he would have to fend for himself in finding food and shelter?
Although I had served them their midday treats, both Gladys and Henry were concerned more with what we were doing than seizing the opportunity to gorge themselves. Henry is routinely a picky eater, but not Gladys, who normally grasps every morsel she can for herself. My Good Wife fed them a spot of green grass and honeysuckle that she had gathered from the yard. After eating dry grain for the last couple of weeks, Gladys was overjoyed to have something fresh and green. She went through it in no time.
The arrival of the new hens last year introduced a different dimension to our barnyard. They are the friendliest bunch of hens we have had. They like to be petted and picked up and held. They also are fastidiously neat. When I spill some of their meal on the ground while pouring the rest into their bowls, they immediately start eating off the ground, rather than from the bowls. At present we have the cleanest barnyard, given their attention to detail.
My solitary complaint about the chickens is that one of them ignores the nesting boxes and opts to lay her eggs in a most inconvenient spot for me. Perhaps she likes the privacy of not nesting with the others, but her habit is somewhat challenging for me. I must say that the nesting boxes might not have an egg per chicken each day, but her location does. I do not complain, given her productivity.
The barnyard lives on in its own world. My Good Wife and I enjoyed the companionship of our gallinaceous family members as we all took the first steps in anticipation of a long-awaited spring.
