So I go outside with a large metal colender to collect veggies for dinner. There is a stampede of the finest western movies, (insert or hum Bonanza theme) only a little higher than where the horses ankles should be. Chickens are suddenly all my best friends, ever, and I'm swearing on the truth, one or two of em were oinking. Like a pig. Anticipating yet more treats. Should have seen their faces when I showed them the emptienss and the longer view of blue skies through the many holes. They did not believe me and wanted a closer inspection. Wow. Abandoned so fast in the pursuit of bugs, I nearly forgot I owned chickens. Looked at the coop on the other side of the yard to verify. Green Acres had a pet pig. Bet that pig could cluck. And stuck close to his owner even when he lacked yummies. Old Yeller wouldn't leave. Lassie would dive into the abandoned well. Flipper would save the world. Gentle Ben, well, he'd scratch his butt on the tree and consider looming over the bad guys, but he'd stick it out.
My brother said my sweet Ladies reminded him of the garbage disposal pigosaurus thing from the Flintstones. And I swear when the see the white treat bowl, well ok any thing resembling a treat bowl...or food....well..ok see anything resembling something or someone who will give them a treat of some sort anytime from immediately to the near future they oink. And snort. Loudly I keep trying to tell them that they need to act like Ladies but...al I get is snort oink grobble grobble. Rude /sigh but i can't help but love them.
Mine have learned to come running when I rattle one of those small raisin boxes (I keep the same box and refill it from the cheep I mean cheap stuff) My sister was spray painting something and was stampeded! They were so crushed she came in and got them a treat. So we are now well trained chicken feeders. Really who knew they could express so much with their faces?
