There is much debate at my house, as to the reasoning behind this new chicken behavior.
My oldest, Luke, the official keeper of the chickens, lets them out of their coop in the morning to roam about the backyard.
They punch their little chicken time cards and go about their solemn duties, ridding the yard of fire ants, weeding the garden and polishing off the toast crusts tossed out the door by management.
It's a grind.
Here lately though, we've begun to wonder if they aren't organizing – maybe there is some kind of chicken union forming out there?
They peer in the window at least a few times a day and speak in hushed bawks.
They're up to something.
What though? That is the question.
Some of us think that these near 100 degree days have them planning an infiltration of our air conditioned quarters.
Others of us believe that they are merely wondering what it's like on the other side. You know how some folks drive around the wealthier neighborhoods and sigh, wondering what it would be like to live in one of those big gated estates with the tree-lined drives? Well, maybe the chickens are gazing in, and imagining themselves with indoor plumbing and refrigerated scratch? I don't know.
Still others in this house think that the girls are playing lookout. A couple of them peer in the window while the other wayward fowl is doing who knows what off in the bushes. Maybe she's rolling her own St. Augustine smoke, or maybe she's booking airfare for three to Jamaica. Who can say?
Heck, by the look of that window, maybe they are just wondering if the inhabitants of this house have ever heard of Windex.
As for me, I think that these teenage girls of mine are after one thing, and one thing only.
If you've hung out in a mall lately, you know what I'm talking about. I've seen it in the human variety of teenage chicks too – standing in front of Hollister, smacking their gum and squealing, "Oh. MY GAWD! He didn't!"
My young ladies are preening. They are strutting about. They are trying out their newfound feminine wiles. They are looking in that window, and they are wondering "Can Rosemartine and Pearleone come out to play?"
Sorry gals. This is no longer a co-ed farm.
and the Blue Yonder Boys