Jake moved the hen hut to border the vegetable garden. We put it there so the chickens can aerate the soil, eat larvae, and leave lots of nitrogen-rich droppings which will hopefully make for a fertile garden next summer.
I’m back in Virginia. Back home to the dogs, chickens and the adorable huzz. Two things have happened since I’ve been away:
1. The roosters are now officially crowing with authority. No longer do they sound like nerdy preadolescents on the cusp of puberty, trying to gain respect using the most wobbly of windpipes. Now when they crow, they mean it. In fact, today was the first day we were both officially awakended by our own roosters. It was 5:30 a.m.. We have three roosters. It was a freaking racket.
He crows. He humps. What a cock.
2. Perhaps as a direct result of their newly mature crowing capabilities, the roosters have also graduated to mounting the hens. Have you ever seen two chickens humping? It’s a brutal business. It happened this morning down in the garden, right between our feet. A hen was minding her own business, pecking at the dirt, when one of the roosters seized her back with his claws, pinned her by the neck with his beak and forced himself into her business. It was awful and violent and, come to think of it, sort of reminded me of the scene in Mad Men when Joan gets raped by her fiance. Thankfully, the act was over in three seconds or so. (Ha! That rooster was a two pump chump!! Jerk!) The hen scampered away. She kept trying to crane her neck around as if trying to find out what the heck happened back there. The rooster, meanwhile, strutted proudly.
I shrieked while Jake just shrugged. Typical!
And now I am officially home.
