Suspicious Hens

The three Barnevelder hens who live here at Sweetgrass know a good thing. When they see me coming, they cluck and coo and make endearing little I Love You sounds that tug at a person's heart strings.

Sucker that I am, my chicks get the best of the best when it comes to nutrition. Things like mealworms, sunflower seeds, raisens, oats, flax seeds, cracked corn, poultry feed, grit, oyster shell, vitamins, and all the leftover vegetables. Life at Sweetgrass is... sweet.

All my good care and concern is aptly rewarded with three speckled terra cotta colored eggs, each one a beauty. That's three eggs a day unless I send my husband to feed our hens. If the shadow of a man comes near the hen house, the game is up. There'll be one to no eggs on that day, my punishment for not executing the feeding myself.

Take out the camera and my cooing cuties elongate and become tall, suspicious hens. There is an audible shift, a knowing "Ohhhhhh...." Not "Oh, Oh!" Not "OH!" Just "Ohhhhhh...." as if someone has spilled the beans, revealing some great secret about old chickens and stew pots. Ohhhhhh...