Hi’ya, everyone. It’s everyone’s favorite chicken columnist, Gertrude, here again.
I’ve got to tell you that the weather has been something else the past few weeks. A lady of my age can’t handle this changing weather where I need sunglasses and a fan one day and the next I’m fluffing up my feathers as much as I can to keep warm.
I’m very grateful the seasonal molt (where my feathers are shed twice a year to make room for new beautiful feathers) has already come and gone. I can’t imagine having to step outside almost bare of a down coat.
I’m still trying to decide if I like this new coop addition of Cooper, a cat that thinks he’s a chicken, but I will say when that little catken gets fed, the Mutha Clucka has put his bowl in a spot that if I stand on my tiptoes, I can reach it, and boy, is his food good. I’m not one to cuddle next to another species, but I know several of the other hens in the coop enjoy him roosting next to them at night. I guess he’s pretty warm, and they say he doesn’t really bother them.
I hear there’s a big holiday coming up next week, and the word around the barnyard from smaller birds, which fly into the chicken yard, is that turkeys have been disappearing from other farms for something called a Thanksgiving feast.
Every year, I hear about this feast, but nothing ever happens around our barn. I’ve questioned why that is the case, and I’ve been told it is actually a good thing we haven’t been asked to participate. I guess I’ll just be satisfied with the cracked corn I get and the delicious leaves of lettuce and spent grain the Mutha brings down to the yard. It must be one whale of a party, though, with all of those turkeys.
The coop is cozy in spite of the blowing winds we’ve had, and I’ve appreciated continuing to rule over my roost. Can you believe at almost 8 years old, I’m still the top hen?
Those of you who have read the column for a while know I had a bit of a crush on the Barred Rock rooster, Fritz, but he has since found someone younger, which actually doesn’t bother me because who wants to hear cock-a-doodle-do in your ear at 3 a.m.?
These roosters, always chasing the younger ones and not understanding that us older gals actually will give intelligent conversation and not go running around chasing every young cockerel they see. Maybe they’ll learn or maybe they won’t. I’m not going to concern myself with it.
I hope all of you dear readers are doing well in this season of fall and the colder weather we are seeing. I’m looking forward to when the colored lights are put on the chicken coop outside of our chicken yard. I don’t stay up too late to watch them for long, but the reflection of the colors in our coop’s windows as I drift off to sleep is quite comforting.
Though I guess this will be another year of me not participating in the Thanksgiving feast, I wish all of those who are a very happy holiday, and I look forward to when Mutha Clucka lets me speak to you all again.
Until next time…
Gertie is a nearly 8-year-old hen at Purple Shamrock Farm LLC in rural Seymour. Send comments to [email protected]