So, only yesterday, Farmer H was all up in arms about three eggs falling on him when he pulled down some hay from the other side of the fence he built inside the mini pony's shed.
"One of 'em bounced off my stomach and broke! Them darn chickens won't none of 'em lay in the chicken house! I find ONE egg in there! It's like an Easter egg hunt around here to find the eggs!
"That's what happens when you let them run loose. They don't know they're supposed to go in the house. The only one we have left who remembers when you kept them in the pen, and they roosted in the house every night, is Survivor (our orange-and-black rooster). Actually, it might be Survivor's Son. They look so much alike, and I've only seen one of them lately."
"They just lay wherever they feel like it!"
"And yet you blame my sweet, sweet Juno for eating your eggs. She doesn't know any better. Those dogs walk around and find an egg, and think, 'Oh, I found an egg. Nom nom!' They are only eating food they find in the yard."
"Yeah. I know. They eat all my eggs!"
"Not all of them. You DID find those 30-something eggs under the porch that one day."
I don't know where they're laying!
"That is not the dogs' fault. But I must say, Juno has been looking especially silky for the past few weeks."
"YEAH! From MY eggs! They don't need my eggs. They eat enough table scraps to keep them fat."
"Well, that cheap dogfood you give them is probably crippling them. I think that's what killed Tank the beagle."
"Oh! Their food is still out in the car."
"See? You're not even feeding them. They need the eggs. And I think you ran over my sweet, sweet Juno. She's been limping."
"I saw that. She's a hypochondriac."
"Well, you DID run over Grizzly. You admitted that yourself."
"I didn't hurt him. He rolled twice and bounced right back up."
"And where is HE now?"
"HM. He was 13 years old!"
"Well, I doubt that being run over by your Gator added any years to his life."
"There's no talking to you!"
"I wish."
I suppose that when I retire (IN ONLY 7 MONTHS, have you heard?), Farmer H will assign me the job of following his chickens around all day and picking up his eggs.
Caesar Milan has his own show. Perhaps you can, too.
ReplyDeleteVal, the Chicken Whisperer...
Sioux,
ReplyDeleteI kind of like that name..."Val." Oh. And the Chicken Whisperer part, too.
The name "Val" just came to me, since Valentine's Day is my favorite holiday with my class--full of candy and more candy and then even more candy.
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteWell, thank the Gummi Mary your favorite holiday is not Arbor Day!