It was wet around their usual morning meeting spot, so the Imperious Hens moved over and tried to dislodge Minnie from her very dry fiber chair. No luck, Minnie wasn’t moving.
They looked indignant. Off to Saratoga, see you this afternoon.
The Imperious hens gathered for their morning planning conference, but there was one difference. No hen jumped up on the cat’s Fiber Chair to take over. I think the hens have backed down. They stand by the chair, huff, and puff, but the cats seem to have won this round.
The Imperious Hens showed up this morning to take over the Fiber Chair and hold their morning planning and strategy meeting. They were shocked to find both Minnie and Flo curled up in the chair, sleeping.
Two of the hens just stormed off to search for bugs, the older hen just sat there and glowered. I don’t think she’s given up.
I’m going to the Mansion for my Meditation Class; Maria is working hard on the feathers for her Heron, soon to be a hanging piece.
I’ve been home more than usual since Covid. Today Maria and I drove around for a few hours collecting metal objects and some fabrics from friends for Bishop Gibbons.
When we got home, she went to work, and I got restless.
I saw the hens marching toward me; they were checking me for food and worms, which I often give them in the afternoon.
I didn’t have anything, so they soon abandoned me and set off on one of their many marches. I wondered if a hen’s life was more interesting than I thought.
First, they marched into the barn and stared at me. This was the signal for mealworms. I got the bag out and dropped some on the barn floor.
They pecked away eagerly, and when the worms were gone (I stepped back into the barn so they’d relax), they marched purposefully under the pasture fence and out to visit Robin, our loner sheep, who they seem to have bonded with.
Robin stood up to join them, and the foursome marched towards the picture. Robin seemed to be studying the hens to see what it was they were pecking at and gobbling up. He put his head down and joined in.
They were all quite busy, with plenty of bugs and other things to eat. The hens are not starving. They seem very serious to me and purposeful. They don’t waste time.
Each day, they explore every nook and cranny on the farm, starting with the morning meeting on the porch. They are in bed and asleep when it gets dark. They walk in lockstep, just like fish do in the ocean.
The four marched down the gate and back again. They have a new friend. They have a routine. They work hard and rest hard. I’ll keep at this and see if there’s more to it.
The hens, ignoring me now, got what they wanted, marched over to one of our most enormous lilac bushes, and huddled down and into the shade. It was the most challenging part of the day, and the Imperious hens were no fools; they would stay undercover for a while.
I’m afraid I annoyed the Imperious Hens again. Shortly after they took up position for their morning planning, I turned on the water hose just a dozen feet away. They didn’t like that, and each gave me a dirty look and huffed off towards the bard. “Good riddance, “I shouted! Excuse me for living!:
Some mealworms worked to smooth things over.
