I’ve been trying for days to get a photo of the Imperious Hens marching in a row, heads down, butts up, pecking for seeds and bugs, and God knows what.
They have a kind of military discipline about them, walking in sync, always with a purpose, resting together, and marching together. They seem to us to have a lot of personality.
Our Imperious hens have all just molted, spewing the ground with chicken feathers. The hens shed their feathers in fall so they can grow new and even thicker ones for the winter. The hens are strutting around even more imperiously than usual.
They have never looked better.
Maria’s fiber chair is the new animal throne in Bedlam Farm; the barn cats and the hens take turns sitting there.
Yesterday, there was rain and a windstorm; the barn cats retreated to the front porch, and the Imperious hens rushed in to claim their meeting space.
Some mornings, I never have to go farther than my back porch for neat photos of animals and their lives.
Minnie and Flo curl up together as the temperature drops to keep warm. It is touching to see these ferocious independent barn cats, each with their own ferociously guarded territory. They support one another warmly.
A few feet away, the Imperious hens were having their morning panning session in Maia’s fiber chair. When there’s no sun and it’s chilly, the barn cats take care of one another and yield their fiber chair to the hens, who are happy to use it.
I’m loving the Imperious Hens these days, they are quite regal and entitled and quite pleased with themselves.
Saturday morning began with Bud, newly empowered, nosing his way into the bathroom and sticking his head in the shower – this is a first – to encourage me to give the dogs their morning treats.
His much more polite compadres hung back – nervous I thought, and waiting for me to shout or grumble. Zinnia and Fate are very sensitive to my moods. Bud doesn’t really care what I am thinking.
He’s laser-focused on the treats.
This morning was another lovely fall morning.
We lit the first Fall wood stove fire to the delight of Bud, who is never happier than when he is sitting before a fire dozing and warming up.
If Zinnia is not a summer dog, Bud is not a winter dog.
The Imperious hens took temporary command of the fiber chair.
Our flowers survived the frost; a woman and her two children came by, their car had a flat tire, and it was partially blocking our driveway.
While she waited for help, we took her two daughters out into the pasture to meet Lulu and Fanny and give them some alfalfa treats.
Danielle and her friend had a blast. The car will spend the weekend until the owner can find and buy a spare.
Then Hen’s ringleader got up early and seized control of the fiber chair. Maria made some of her excellent borscht (beet soup as we call it in America), and her friend Jackie is coming for lunch.
(A woman with two children had a flat tire. On weekends, if you don’t have AAA, which most people don’t, you usually have to wait until Monday to fix it. Her friend couldn’t get the lugnut off one of the tires, it’s here until Monday. We invited the kids to meet the donkeys, and they had a blast. We value the meaning of neighbors up here, we help each other. She’s home now with her daughter and friend, they fell in love with Lulu and Fanny.)
Some flowers have a lot of character. I think this one does.
Once upon a time, this was my reading chair. This week, Maria discovered the chair was a great blogging chair. The dogs agreed. So it’s her chair now, she can stretch her legs, and it’s suitable for her bad.
You might wonder if she asked me if she could have my chair. No, not exactly; I just found her sitting there every night after dinner. She refers to it as her chair now. That’s how things go around her.
And she has plenty of dogs to keep her company.
