nesters, not roosters

When the hens turn in for the night, they gravitate to the highest roosts.  We learned this by error, not trial. As new chicks would grow into hens, it would dawn on us that we were low on roosting real estate, so we’d add another crossbar. Since the roost sits on a slope, the new roosts were higher off the ground, and in no time at all, the alpha hens had taken possession of them. Though we had not anticipated this, it had a certain logic and we accepted it as the way of nature.

Last spring, we brought home to black bantam chicks.  One grew into a very unbantam-like giant which often lays double-yoked eggs.  She struggles to get her heavy body over the roost’s threshold in the morning, so hopping up onto the roost in the evening is out of the question. She spends the night in a little hollow on the ground, where’s she’s safe as long as we remember to latch the roost door every night.

The other black chick grew into a sweet little hen with only one good foot. Recently, she, too, has started spending the night on the ground in a little hollow. The other hens probably won’t let her stay up with them, since she’s by herself, or she may not be able to get around on the roost very well.

Like Mary, she likes to linger in her bed in the morning, and so, like Mary, she receives room service. Mary takes hot tea, and she has to be on a pretty tight schedule before she’ll decamp without it. The little hen didn’t fill out a room service card, but she seems to appreciate the handful of scratch I scatter near her when the flock is busy elsewhere.

So my understanding of chickens, and my own life, progress in unexpected directions. Hens now roost on the ground, and my life as husband & father takes on increasingly unforeseen roles, first husbandry & now bellhop.

On the other hand, though I did not see this coming, neither did I foresee the rewards of long-marriage, or kindness to chickens.

Coo, coo, ca choo.