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A Birthday Addendum: The Mad Dash

February 3, 2012

So, apparently the chickens read the blog when we are fast asleep, or when we are away in the afternoons, because yesterday and today were comical. It was as if they had to say, “Oh yeah? You think we’re little fowl hellions? You think we’re reckless in our egg laying, in our eating habits and bathing locations? Well, here’s to reckless egg abandon!”

Let me explain.

I have been keeping the door to the chicken house snuggly shut until about 11am each morning, in an effort to (metaphorically) squeeze every little last egg, pink, green, blue or brown, outta those ladies before they decide it’s hilarious to hide one in the hay. This way they’ve had a few hours of light to get their egg-layin’ hormones going, and usually, it works like a charm. At exactly (well, around) 11, Wile waits patiently for one of his favorite moments when I fling open the door and 26 chickens come rushing out like they’re outrunning a hurricane. That is, until they hit the grass. Once they hit that green goodness, they’re stopped dead in their cluckin’ tracks, happily pecking and scratching away. They usually move in little waves over the grass, enjoying their bug-hunting in one anothers’ company.

But yesterday….and today…it was The Day of The Mad Dash. Ok, so picture this. Wile is lined up and ready to go in front of the door. I swing open the door. 26 chickens wash over the doorframe and out into the open like a bubbling stream of variegated feathers, and 24 of the 26 abruptly make themselves at home happily pecking. But 25 and 26…25 and 26 are on for the mad dash! They just never stop running! Let me rephrase. They fly-run across the yard like they have a jet pack on their backs, those two red sisters, STRAIGHT for the llama barn. But me and Wile, me and Wile are onto them. We know what they’re up to!!!! Well, just imagine what we discovered in the barn… Apparently, they’re not new to the burlap sack–you’ll see 4 eggs in their clandestine nest, 2 left over from the previous day’s mission. Oh how I wish I had had my camera when the mad dash to the barn began! Side-splitting.

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