With Feathers

"What do you think you're doing?!"
"Why I never!"
"Who do you think you are!!!"

Just a sampling of the hum of effrontery I get when I reach below the feathered, nether regions of our hens and search through the warm straw for an egg (or 2 or 5. They've been laying really well lately.) Some peck, some squawk and scatter, a few take it in stride, but no measure of "thank you" or "you're beautiful" from me seems to mollify them. It's an intrusion. And I understand. They're trapped, literally cooped up, no where to go. Today I took an extra measure of appreciation when I went out to the coops to visit them. Why? I'll tell you later. I stood and watched, tip-toed about when I had to get to gathering.

We have a hen inside our utility room, Jasmine, I think, whose tending to 2 new chicks. They're residing temporarily inside a plastic pet carrying case, and about once a day, maybe every other day if one is lucky, Jasmine "messes" her cage and you have to extract the chicks and place them in a way station (not too hard) and then take Jasmine out (for some reason this was tricky today) and clean her cage. The smell was so potent it made me squint. Well, she'd been savin' it up, sitting there all day. I cleaned the cage, quick, laced the air with a few pine shavings, and put them back in. It's incredible when you think about it. Her stillness in there. A swami would be envious. Chicken meditation. The assuring clucks. Richard goes in there and sits on the stool in front of the cage and watches like a kid watching Saturday morning cartoons, a study in joy. The Chicken Channel. I tried it a little today and sure enough the chicks came out for a peak, one chirping it's way around the backside of his mother and then standing and studying me, taking me in, while the other surfaced right in the middle of a black sea of feathers. Jasmine's a surrogate mom, black feathered, sweet as can be, and the chicks are pale yellow. So when the one chick kept bobbing up and down for a look see there was no mistaking where she was.

I just took the geese up some celery and cilantro, our stores of old lettuce and cabbage from a local market that we usually have on hand having run low. Loved it. All posturing and neck lowering bravado from Shmuel disappears when he sees that I have some leafy grub. Suddenly we're best friends. Though I can't help thinking that the way he chomps into a stalk of celery is probably how he'd like to be chomping into my finger. Oh, he's a good gander!!

With the warm weather the other day, we let the turkeys and the geese out to roam around. Well our Tom and Shmuel had a bit of a showdown in our graveled parking area. Both had their attendant ladies at hand watching on. I didn't witness it first hand, but Richard told me our Tom puffed out his chest feathers and showed the whole deck of cards behind and went after Shmuel like a possessed Ninja warrior. Shmuel didn't know what hit him. No wounds, unless you count his pride. I came out just after the battle and tried to offer Shmuel some salutary savoy cabbage, but he just gave it a forlorn sniff and walked back up the snow bank with one of his daughters to the safety of their coop. Poor guy. I didn't want his spirit to be broken. And I think he shook it off. He got to the top of the slope and called out to the 2 remaining girls, a proud, protective bray, to come home, to safety. Mary Ann, his mate, flew up right away, while Daphne bothered around, taking her good sweet time. It was good to see them all up in their place together, putting the turkey encounter behind them. He's a good gander!

I was away in NYC over the weekend. It was supposed to be a one-day there, one-day back affair, but the winds were so high down there on Saturday, topping off at 55 mph, that a Cape Air 9 seat Cessena hadn't a chance of taking off. So I went back into town, taking in the drop of temperature from 66 on Friday to 20 on Saturday. Roller coaster. Richard said he was out tending the chickens when there arose such a racket at the goose pen. He ran out and peered up and saw Shmuel mounting Mary Ann to the shock and awe of their 2 daughters. They didn't know WHAT was going on. This is yet another thing I haven't witnessed first hand, but by Richard's account, it's a clumsy affair, with Shmuel hefting himself up onto a flattened goose and then situating himself just right. I trust this experience of seeing their parents "doing it" doesn't traumatize the girls for life. Wait'll Shmuel starts mounting them. The therapy bills. Oy!

I've got poultry on the mind today because Richard's leaving for 4 or 5 days at the end of the week and I will be taking over the full duties of care. After various conversations about this upcoming event I went out with a heightened awareness to their coops this morning. Richard takes great pride in them. He's set a structure for the beginning of each day which revolves around their care. He loves it, he loves them. It gives a foundation to his life here. I have come to an appreciation - and yes, love - second hand. Over our 4 years here there have been times I've grumbled about the mess and the havoc they create, I've sought to control aspects of it all, but the plus column of their being a part of our lives far outweighs the minuses. It continues to teach me a lot about myself. So I look forward to this week. I'll miss Richard. Of course. And if work unexpectedly carries me away, I have it covered. But it'll be me and the cats and the birds cooped up together for a few days.

And making the best of it.