Living on the farm always brings stories to tell, here is another one you might enjoy! We raised chickens
and always allowed them to free-range during the day. That means they were free to roam anywhere during
the daylight hours but must be penned up each night. They soon learn this routine and would squawk
like crazy if you were late, the girls didn't need a rooster, they could make enough noise for an army
invasion. They also followed the daylight hours, so outside more in summer than winter. All you have to
do is open the henhouse door and they come running and pushing their way thru the door to spend a
wonderful day roaming all over the farm pecking and eating whatever they like. They do stay together
which I always found interesting. It didn't matter which breed or size they were, the gals all stuck
together and eventually seemed to elect leaders, guards and tattlers.
Now the leaders would be the ones who decide where to go roam that day, usually always within
eyesight of the peoplehouse. They loved roaming the barn and the gardens. I liked it because they kept
bugs population to nearly zero and snakes rarely came around the house because these hens would go
after it just like it was a tiny bug. One of their big treats was when we began cutting firewood. They
would hang around eating the fresh sawdust and all the ants we found within the wood! We enjoyed
watching the antics and the battle for a given ant or bug.
Now the guards were the ones sent to the outer edges of the flock and their job was to set off the alarm if
predators or anything worrisome appeared and that they did faithfully. It was the squawking of those
guards that would send us flying to their rescue from the hawks, raccoons, coyotes and other predators
that were always nearby. Once the alarm was sounded they would all gather together and run for a
safespot.
The last group was the tattlers, or maybe leaders? They would be the gals that would run up to us when
we came around, gather around us and all talking at one time but the two in front of the group seemed to
always be the same and look at us while talking constantly with different sounds and gestures telling us
of something important. Perhaps a giant bug someone found, or a intruding snake or perhaps something
that happened that day. We would stand there and listen and make comments like "Oh really - that was
awful - " or just nod our heads like we understood and when they felt that we had understood, they would
return happily to their roaming. And that is how our lives went every day. We so enjoyed their
conversations.
But one day something happened. We had to go away for the night and needed to have our friend come
and put them up for the night in their henhouse, closing the door so nothing could get in. He had
chickens so he knew exactly what to do and we were not worried about leaving them to his care. That
morning we let them out and made sure all the feeders and waterers were full so that all that needed done
was to pen them up that night. For this story, I will call our friend Bob. The next afternoon we returned to
find everything fine but when we got out of the truck, the hens all came running as fast as they could
and all chattering at once with the leaders peering at us and stretching their necks to tell the story. This
is what they said (or so I gathered).
"Some strange man came and chased us all around, trying to grab us as we tried to go into the
henhouse. He even took a stick and tried to hit us so we couldn't wander around. He didn't pick us up
and cuddle us or give us a goodnight kiss. His voice was loud and scared us so some of us ran and hid
but he came after us with that stick and grabbed some of us and tossed us into the henhouse. We were all
terrified and one by one we managed to get into the henhouse and hide from him. He growled and
snarled and slammed the door and left. We were all shaking and scared he would come back and
couldn't sleep a wink last night. When he came back this morning we all tried to hide from him in the
henhouse so he just grumbled and left the door open and went away. We didn't dare come out until we
saw your truck. Oh it was so scarry!"
And I swear that is what I heard ...so after consoling them and seeing them off to their roaming, I called
Bob and told him what they said about the nights events, he laughed himself silly and said it was just
about true. They had come to the henhouse but were roaming all around it rather that going in to it so he
picked up a long stick we use to corral them and tried to corral them but a few decided no way and ran
away. (after all you have to remember they did not know Bob, he might have been a big predator). He
had to chase after them and corral them to get them into the house and actually had to catch a few and
toss them in! So the chickens hadn't lied and Bob had done what he should have done, but they
interpreted it differently. All is well but Bob is still laughing about the story I told him and they told me .....