Chick Chat

Some remarkable revelations have hatched 

since chickens became very much a part of the family. 

The chickens we had in Canada were friendly enough, 

but with ten of them confined to a small coup 

close personal relationships were rare 

 and it was hard to get a word in edgeways.

Now, with just the three chicks in spacious quarters 

our conversations have become quite pleasant.

No, I've not gone loopy. They definitely try for a rapport.

"Good morning" I say, and receive a welcoming and sincere  cluck or two. 

I crack a joke and there's an appreciative chuckle, or rather a cluckle.  

I hold open the  coup door and they trot out, 

each with a throaty murmur of thanks.

And, during the course of the morning, they stop by for a chat.

But apart from these communications the most surprising discovery 

is their attitude toward their sole role in life - egg laying.  

Internet information and previous experience led me to believe 

that a chick lays with solemn dignity about every 24 hours 

after a quiet period of maternal reflection in the nesting box.  

Tommyrot!   These chicks lay their eggs like they are bombs. 

On one occasion, in the middle of the berserk activity 

that accompanies feed time, one of them dashed back to the 

nesting boxes muttering with annoyance, gave a loud squawk, 

and then within seconds rushed out to join its sisters. 

Surenuff, on opening the hatch there was a brand new ova, 

still so warm it felt par-boiled. 

Another time the three were pleasantly plucking away on the lawn 

when one suddenly hoisted her skirts and shot off back to the coup. 

After a loud squawk of contentment she waddled back 

to resume her place in the pecking order. 

Another warm one in the nest.

As she past me, she gave me her beady eye and an amused cluckle, 

"That was a close call," she said.