I wish I could give to you this morning I just experienced.
I love my morning ritual of wandering out to the coop at the crack of dawn with a cup of coffee and the phone, should it happen to ring. I can hear the birds squabbling and clucking. I often wonder what the deal is and what it would sound like in English.
"Move over! Move over!" "Haven't you eaten enough already?!" "Where is she?" "You DO TOO snore!"
These come to mind. They don't sound angry, really, but peevish. And today was no different from yesterday. I opened the door and the slideflap and let them make a break for it. Stu is not usually the first one to exit. It's more typically an explosion of the Buffs trying to get away from Frick n Frack. Stu marches out and then gives them all what-for and stamps around looking bossy.
With the exception of the chickens, all was rather quiet. I had noticed that the air was cooler and drier when I walked out of the house, but standing down in the runs with the chickens allowed me to really get a good sense of the weather. A significant cloud-cover overhead and breeze was coming in. It was one of those fall days when you sense something is leaving. Something like the oppressiveness of summer. I wanted to grab a bike and go for a spin around the area while everyone else was still asleep.
There was a sweetness in the air, a fragrance I could not place. I looked around, searching for some late season bloom, some jasmine or weed. I found nothing to account for this aroma. So I filled the water troughs and feed the chickens some scratch.
The 3 Golden Girls always eat from my hand and sometimes Little Bit joins in. Today it was only the three and of course, like kids of all ages and across the mammal species, three is always one too many. So, of course, the one I like the best got a quick peck on the head by another one. I quickly wondered if I would have felt the same way if SHE had pecked the other one....
I know, I know, Why Am I Getting Involved? It's chicken politics. Stay outta it!
But I did. I poured some of the grains in one palm and separated my hands so the aggressor was farther away. Did this stop the aggression?
No. She just paused in nibbling to jump over and give Dorothy a quick bang on the head. Chickens! What'r ya gonna do?
I still couldn't figure out where the scent was coming from. And then, like a bolt out of the blue, or a peck upside the head, it came to me: it was the Aveda product Paul used on the styling after the haircut. I was the bloom!