Every day, in the late afternoon, the chickens assemble for their afternoon meeting. The hens hop up on various parts of the rocking chair, Strut struts back and forth, keeping an eye on the dogs and people passing by. They seem to be exchanging opinions about one thing or another, maybe comparing notes about the bugs and insects and seeds popping up just before Spring. I used to chase them off of the chair, but I don’t have the heart to do that anymore, and they just come back. Oddly enough, there are no chicken droppings on the chair. Perhaps they decided to respect their meeting place.