I suppose I really should come clean about my love life. We have, after all, been an ‘item’ for going on two years.
And besides her laying me a delicious egg for breakfast every day, (perhaps as a quid-pro-quo for a generous handful of cat-food every morning at 5;30) we seem to be ‘bonding’ in a robust, and possibly worrisome, fashion.

ITEM: It’s now ‘Our’ Lap-top’: No sooner do I move from my computer chair then she ensconces herself comfortably in it, and commences to peck, ‘million monkeys’ style, at the keys and lights, until, (and it’s now four times she done it) she boots the thing on, to her great delight. By now I recognize just about every variety of ‘cluck’, from the ‘all-ok’ “bak-bak-bak-bak through “dak-dak-DAACK-bac-book” where she tries to imitate a rooster, to the early-dawn ‘daaawck…da-huh-huh-duck?” which is a classic trans-species complaint about having to get up for work in the morning.
 There is another vocalization she uses to tell me she’s just laid an egg. I try not to pry. Sometimes she works on the process, there in the bathtub I filled with straw, for two hours or more. Not sure I myself could do it, so I refrain from discussing the challenge with her.
But when she get’s Windows 7 to initialize, she always emits a cluck that Microsoft possibly never imagined.
Anyway, she is never more than about a meter away from me, especially when I’m weeding. Lot’s of bugs and worms un-earthed. Saves her digging. Every morning at first light we do a tour of the entire gardens, checking for new surprises. She’s right there, underfoot.
I guess the troublesome part is the bed. Why does she insist on spending every free minute on my pillow? I’m thinking of giving her her own damn pillow, on ‘her’ side of the bed. Yes, she poops on the blanket sometimes, but it’s no big deal. If you love someone…
I have a table in the middle of a room where I do paper-work, billing. I noticed yesterday that she was watching me with unusual interest as I shuffled receipts.
This morning, after failing to start my laptop, she went straight for that table. Grabbed the pen in her beak, as if to add a couple hundred shekels to Ya’acov’s bill. Wish I were making this up, but it’s all too true.
Woody Allen is probably my primary source here as to what to do. He told a shrink once “Doc, my wife thinks she’s a chicken…”
Shrink: Nu?
“Yeah, I’d have her committed…. but we need the eggs,”
And so, altogether, I’m not ‘conflicted’ about our relationship. On the one hand, never in my farm-boy life with chickens by the thousands did I develop anything more than a perfunctory role with these fowl, but on the other,’present‘, hand, I love that silly pigeon-breath hen like crazy, have to admit. Beats dealing with most humans wings-down. Like some French guy said “The more I meet humans, the more I like chickens.” (My translation.)




  1. HappierHeathen

    Chickins iz fun. I was once best friends with a Rhodie rooster. He was one my grandmother rescued, had been half eaten by roaming dogs (“The whole reason we moved to the country was so Rover could roam!”), and after surviving that my drunk uncle broke one of the poor guy’s legs. He hung out with the wild turkeys when they came around, but other than that preferred the company of two-legs because hovering around the perimeter of the chicken yard was just too frustrating. Or so he said.Is that the one who got broody and ran off a while back?

  2. jsolberg

    @somewittyhandle – Good eye. and thanks for almost certainly nailing down the breed. I hadn’t known anything except “an arab chicken. No name in particular for her; I do yell ‘Yo,Pigeon!’ at times when she does something like carefully and methodically eating the grass seed from my newly-seeded lawn.

  3. jsolberg

    @HappierHeathen – yes, she is the infamous awol fowl. That was before i realized how active their thought process is. She’d been chased one night by a fox or jackal, and decided to lay low, high in an oak tree, while the demon lost interest. Your rooster story is just further proof that birds are thoughtful sentient beings.

  4. an_OM_aly

    Too bad i live in a city with regs against live egg bawckers or cock-a-doodle-doers, otherwise i’d ask if you’d have available a mail order rooster.

  5. HappierHeathen

    @jsolberg –  It’s good that she had that kind of sense. Most chooks do, but I’ve known some who were almost as dumb as people.We’re planning to indulge our chicken-craziness this Spring with a half-dozen Buff Orpington hens. First I must build the chicken tractor for them… Amethyst is quite good at coming up with projects to keep me out of trouble. It’ll be a fun project so I don’t mind that one.

  6. jsolberg

    @an_OM_aly – One of the things I’m learning is the practicality of having a hen living in close proximity. Too close at times. I can send you one who’ll do fine in a guest bedroom. just make sure she has a good net connection. They need that these days;go figure.

  7. jsolberg

    @HappierHeathen – My five-star hen house is now un-used, since I decided to let them all run free. (It seemed to attract the attention of predators looking for a multi-purchase. foxes, jackals, and mongeese. good luck with your project, and build it as one would for a bull moose.

  8. jsolberg

    @somewittyhandle – You’re probably referring to the ‘thinspo’ posts… weight-loss goals. Her ‘Diet of Worms’ series got 426 comments and 43 recs!Thanks again for the breed ID. Raised by wolves, I was familiar with mainly the Leghorn. Some serious research last night shed light on why they no longer have horns on their legs. (In fact, the name is a particularly horrid bastardization of ‘Livonia’ the Italian origin of the plain white package chicken.Thence, somehow, to two hours reading about the Buncefield explosion a few years ago. I suspect you heard the boom? And another closure of the fabled M1. And thence to the 1845 Franklin expedition to find the Northwest Passage. Trapped in pack-ice two winters, 129 sailors with not much hope of a rescue. Me an’ the hen went to sleep finally at 2 AM feeling bleak.

  9. splork_splork

    She sounds like a delightful companion. A former coworker of mine had a chicken while growing up that used to follow her brother around everywhere. Maybe with her computer nerd tendencies, you could teach her to type.

  10. HappierHeathen

    @jsolberg –  That predator thing is why we aren’t going to let them run loose. We get bears, mountain lions, bobcats, hawks, and owls pretty regularly. If they want chicken for dinner, they’re going to have to chip in on the feed bill.

  11. somewittyhandle

    @jsolberg – I certainly did hear, and feel, the Buncefield boom. I leapt out of bed, and went up into the attic to inspect, convinced that my water tank had collapsed its supports. Then I went outside to see if the chimney stack had come down, and saw the glow on the horizon.It was a gas!


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