Hot Hen Blues

Lena Horne Hen singing
"I'm so hot, and I'm dry on love."

My hens are pro blues singers.  Hot days bring out all their best.  Bra-h-a-a-a-a--a--a---a---a--a.  Talk about a sad and plaintive tale!  Oh, my!  I can't make out the words quite yet, but the tone of voice tells all.  "Ain't no man around.  I'm so hot, and I'm dry on love.  When will this love drought end?  I'm so hot, even when the sun is down.  Ain't no man around."

The girls are hot, probably not hot for a rooster, but with the temps at 100, they are hot.  Even on the perch at night, they're all splayed out, begging for a little cool under their wings.  They probably dream of running naked.  Shorts and tank tops for the humans; down coats for the chickens--not fair.

Did you ever?

OK to heat the outdoors

On such days Things I get to do today let me cook outside to preserve the bliss of our air conditioning.  The rice cooker plugs in and stays outside till the contents are cooked and cooled.  While assembling the rice, water and seasoning, I came across these instructions.  Dang!  It really is hot if I'm supposed to keep the bullion cubes cool after opening a cardboard box!  Bet there's a blues line for that one, too.

Choral Qualities

Diva of the early morning--may I introduce Nora Jones Chicken!

Today's the day for singing. As these words are finding the page, my girls have started into yet another chorus.  The first piece had two stanzas beginning at 6:34, and after a 15 minute intermission, ending at around 6:55 AM.  I believe Nora (Jones/Chicken) was the soloist.

The second number picked up its rhythm about 9:14 with Miss Katy Perry Chicken taking the lead. Her double hiccough-with-a-glitch syncopation is hard to miss.  The other hens added an occasional extra beat to the confused song cycle.




And now as the Things I get to do today move into full swing, Nina Simone Hen has grabbed the mic.  Her heart-felt lines are delivered from her soul, and when she's done, she's done.  It's quiet.

Egg Train

Nina and Nora waiting for the egg train

Nina wasn't moving fast enough.  By the time I got my camera to document the commotion, Latifah had jumped from the floor, crowded past Nina, and headed straight in to the nest.  My picture noted that Nina was first in line at the cozy door (she's the black hen), but now Noisy Nora was on the train as well.

Noisy Nora

As regional hen manager, my Things I get to do today include developing a queueing process for egg ladies on urgent business.







Noisy Nora* (aka Nora Jones Chicken) has plenty of advice for me.  Her strident comments start first thing in the morning, before reasonable chicken keepers are yet out of bed, and continue throughout the day, depending on how much she "needs" my attention.  All previous Nora chickens (there have been four Nora's so far) have had gentle, sweet voices like their name sake.  But this hen has been taking lessons from a fish-wife.  I just wish I could make out what she is shouting about.

Katy waiting her turn in the egg train

And now, moments later,  the queue includes Katy Perry Chicken as well. There's a method to their chicken logic.   Regardless of all the cackling, squawks, and chatter, they are figuring it all out and laying eggs everyday without my help.

Katy--not waiting any longer
"Here I come whether you're off the nest or not.
 Just pull in your big ego.  I'll use the box next to you."

Just grab you ticket, take a number, get in line for the nest box and pray that Queen Latifah Hen is not holding court when the egg comes irreversibly down the track.











*Noisy Nora is the title of a children's book about a "middle-child" mouse whose parents are busy with older sister and younger brother.  Nora demands attention in her own way.  Rosemary Wells is the brilliant author and illustrator.

Pick-a-little, Talk-a-little

"Cheep, cheep, cheep. Talk a lot, pick-a-little more."  Someone's been eaves dropping in my hen yard.  It's not be a very harmonious song.

Golden Gwyneth

The girls, all six of them, seem to be adjusting (sometime looks like a front-load wash machine)  to the new configuration.  Pecking order is not a figure of speech when it comes to chickens.  Gwyneth, singing constantly with a mezzo Southern br-ah-ah-ah-ah-ck, br-ah-ah-ah-ah-ck, gets to peck everybody (but seldom does).  She is the very benevolent ruler of the cluck-clucks--a true golden girl.

Sweet Katy

Katy (a new hen to the flock) gets an occasional "that's not your place" reminder from Gwyneth.  Her high little f-e-e-e-e-e-p, f-e-e-p, f-e-e-e-p accompanies her intense scratching and foraging.  She pecks Nora when necessary but is usually too busy with her work to be bothered.

Noisy Nora

Nora (also new in the hen pen) seems to want to peck everyone and is frustrated by being third in the  order.  She doubles her efforts, spending a good amount of energy chasing the teenage hens away from food and around the yard.  Just getting her own spot on the roost at night brings forth a full-volume classical cackle usually reserved for the laying of a magnificent egg.

Sly Nina

Husky-voiced Nina is clever and sly, knowing just the right curtsy to slip in with the big girls for treats and how to bow out quickly before being reminded of her lower place.  But she never pecks and is quick enough to avoid the same from others.

Lena and Latifah

Latifah and Lena have spent most of this last week just trying to avoid trouble (Nora).  It's made them so edgy that neither has much to say or sing about.  They even started scrapping with each other. "Pick-a-little, talk-a-little.  CHEEP!"





"Calm the cluck-clucks" is reaching a crescendo on Things I get to do today.  So with my own version of chicken whispering, Nora is quieted, Lena is settled, Katy is calmed.  The roost is cleaned of hostility. Only a gentle br-ah-ah-ck and an echoing f-e-e-e-p lulls them at dusk.  Good night, Ladies.

Chicken Twitter

They seldom stop talking, and they never have much to say.  The content is simple and to the point.  Gwyneth and the gang, my chickens, constantly keep each other posted on their moment by moment activities by clucking, squawking, cackling, muttering, twitting, singing single notes, and when they were smaller, peeping.

If it’s quiet in the hen pen, I sense ennui and head out to shift the situation that is now on my list of Things I get to do today.  Essential chicken activities include scratching, pecking, scratching, pecking, scratching, pecking and pooping.  So if they’re not scratching, all is not well.

A chicken knows, as sure as a chicken knows anything, that around the base of plants bugs live.  That chicken knowing is the precise reason the hens have a pen that provides a barrier between them and my garden and flowerbeds.  Thirty seconds of serious hen activity can be the death of a tender plant.

But berry vines are tough.  They do best if mulched well to keep they feet damp and provide extra goodies for growing fat, juicy berries.   However by October the main production season is past, and they don’t mind having a good scratch at their base:  a foot massage and a back rub combined.  The girls are itching to provide this service.

Twenty feet of raspberries and marrionberries with deep mulch at their base can keep the flock contented 24/7 if someone will put the mulch back occasionally.  That’s something they don’t do.   So I rake the litter back under the vines, and the girls fall in behind me, contented again to post aloud what they are discovering as they scratch, peck, scratch, peck, scratch, peck, twit.