June has absolutely no fear of the hens. As soon as she enters the chicken yard, she chases them all around calling “Deet-deet-deet-DEET!” (loosely translated to mean “Kneel before me, chicken!”) much to the hens’ chagrin. Yesterday June stood right over the top of one as the bird assumed her fiercest defensive stance — crouched, feet wide, wings protruding from the side – which isn’t really fierce or defensive at all (it’s actually quite pitiful) but is the only means of protection these lowly creatures have. They can’t fly nor do they have their beaks. Count your blessings you’re not a chicken.
June stood over the top of the hen and casually dropped her cap on its back. The hen froze, paralyzed by fear. June froze as well, delighted by her lordly powers. The two of them stood motionless for ten, fifteen seconds until June collected her cap and tried to put it on her own head (askance is the word I’d use to describe its position). The hen bolted, terrified for her life, lucky to be alive.
Another day in the chicken yard.