I have decided to begin writing a "journal" for one of my three Ameracauna hens, Charlotte. She is nearly one year old and was purchased with Georgiana and Lydia, at the point of getting feathered out.
28th day of the 2nd month of Winter
Charlotte the Ameracauna's Journal - Day One
Although I know that this entry to my newfound journal will not keep, I write it. I scratch it out in the muddy, manure-rich earth, in the hopes of sorting out my jumbled, yet mostly intelligent, thoughts. Any thoughts of a chicken - or of any fowl for that matter - are apt to be jumbled and at least slightly unintelligent, because as far as I can tell all we chickens are good for are laying eggs and producing chicks.
I am an Ameracauna hen, with gray legs; gold, gray, lavender, and dull brown feathers; fat cheeks, and a small brain. At least, that's how my hatching-mate Georgiana describes me. She's not a bully, but she can be a little rude sometimes.
It has been cold these last weeks - or was it months? - and two days ago more of that dreaded, white, cold wet stuff began to fall from the sky. However, that was a relief in comparison to the horrid pounding rain, and the hail that fell and went pitter-pitter-pitter-pitter, bouncing on anything harder than the ground itself. But today we received a warm welcome to the outdoors of our coop, which we had not had the pleasure of in weeks - or at least, I think it was weeks. The ground was very soft from the rain and melting snow, but Lizzy, the highest hen, Lydia, my other hatching-mate, and I were able to dustbathe in a dry spot underneath a big contraption that gave us shade in the summertime.
All the roosters are acting as if it's spring or summer again, crowing constantly and fertilizing all the hens' eggs. Sometimes Lydia and Georgiana and I giggle on the roosts at dusk about how stupid the roosters are sometimes. Everyone knows that hens are smarter than roosters - they just don't like to admit it sometimes.
I must stop writing now. Dukk is coming and she'll want me out of her way, the bossy creature. She doesn't like to go around anybody. Sometimes I wonder about her; she's the only duck here. Lizzy told me that Dukk used to have a brother named Trouble that lived here, too, but when he and Dukk did not go into the coop one night, Dukk came back that morning without Trouble, and that was the last of him. - - - - - - - - - I thi- - t- - t Dukk misses her brother. Oops, Dukk just waddled past and marked out what I said. Here comes Georgiana. She'll tease me if I don't scratch this out, now.
28th day of the 2nd month of Winter
Charlotte the Ameracauna's Journal - Day One
Although I know that this entry to my newfound journal will not keep, I write it. I scratch it out in the muddy, manure-rich earth, in the hopes of sorting out my jumbled, yet mostly intelligent, thoughts. Any thoughts of a chicken - or of any fowl for that matter - are apt to be jumbled and at least slightly unintelligent, because as far as I can tell all we chickens are good for are laying eggs and producing chicks.
I am an Ameracauna hen, with gray legs; gold, gray, lavender, and dull brown feathers; fat cheeks, and a small brain. At least, that's how my hatching-mate Georgiana describes me. She's not a bully, but she can be a little rude sometimes.
It has been cold these last weeks - or was it months? - and two days ago more of that dreaded, white, cold wet stuff began to fall from the sky. However, that was a relief in comparison to the horrid pounding rain, and the hail that fell and went pitter-pitter-pitter-pitter, bouncing on anything harder than the ground itself. But today we received a warm welcome to the outdoors of our coop, which we had not had the pleasure of in weeks - or at least, I think it was weeks. The ground was very soft from the rain and melting snow, but Lizzy, the highest hen, Lydia, my other hatching-mate, and I were able to dustbathe in a dry spot underneath a big contraption that gave us shade in the summertime.
All the roosters are acting as if it's spring or summer again, crowing constantly and fertilizing all the hens' eggs. Sometimes Lydia and Georgiana and I giggle on the roosts at dusk about how stupid the roosters are sometimes. Everyone knows that hens are smarter than roosters - they just don't like to admit it sometimes.
I must stop writing now. Dukk is coming and she'll want me out of her way, the bossy creature. She doesn't like to go around anybody. Sometimes I wonder about her; she's the only duck here. Lizzy told me that Dukk used to have a brother named Trouble that lived here, too, but when he and Dukk did not go into the coop one night, Dukk came back that morning without Trouble, and that was the last of him. - - - - - - - - - I thi- - t- - t Dukk misses her brother. Oops, Dukk just waddled past and marked out what I said. Here comes Georgiana. She'll tease me if I don't scratch this out, now.
