Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full. Muttering roosters: one.
Only one chicken was less than elated by Ella’s news last night. It’s not that Jack wishes bad of the Boys but he doesn’t think they deserved quite the lucky break they got. “Young and disrespectful” was muttered somewhere in the conversation, as well as “immature” and even “not smart enough for the job.” If you ask my opinion it’s jealousy pure and simple. Jack has seven hens and we basically get to stick around forever; the Boys, on the other wing, have about sixty ever-changing, exciting, new, sexy hens between them. It’s like a constantly updated smorgasbord of hot hen toddy. Yep, Jack, it’s jealousy plain and simple.
A poem about stud duties by Ruby
Pellets for breakfast yay!
Pellets for breakfast yay.
Pellets for breakfast yawn…
Or…
A cute wee hen for breakfast yay!
Another wee one for brunch.
Tall, white twins follow on from that
And a redhead after lunch.
A never-ending smorgasbord
Of hot hen toddy
Meanwhile poor Jack has me
And my overly known body
Yes poor Jack, when put in the context of food I can see why he’s a bit put out.
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