There has been a couple of posts recently about changes in the behavior of roosters as winter approaches and hens stop laying. this story seemed appropriate.
Fudge and Mel.
Fudge, now about three months old, a third of the size of the others in the tribe, took an optimistic upward dive for a non existent space on the perch between Fat Bird and her father Cillin. Fat Bird shuffled along the Perch a couple of steps and gave Fudge a gentle admonishing peck or two as Fudge made herself comfortable between Cillin and Fat Bird.
“If you’re going to sit there fidgeting like your sister you can perch somewhere else” Fat Bird told Fudge giving Fudge another couple of pecks.
“I want to sleep next to you” Fudge told Fat Bird giving what Fudge hoped was her most innocent and appealing look, realizing that it may not be tactful to point out that it’s warmer next to Fat Bird than it is next to mum who is noticeably skinnier and with Fat Bird between her and Mel, her sister, Mel is very unlikely to bother her.
Fudge settled, making chic calls quietly and peered under Cillins tail feathers at her sister Mel at the far end of the perch.
“Creep” muttered Mel craning her neck over the back of Cillin hoping she might just reach Fudge with her beak.
“I’m not” protested Fudge her neck shooting out and her eyes looking indignant.
Fudge retracted her head deep into her feathers looking slightly dejected and adds “Ever since you started laying eggs and became daddy’s darling you’ve been horrid.”
Fat Bird lowered a lid of one eye and mutters “she’s always been horrid.”
Despite there only being three and a bit months difference in age Mel had quickly established herself as senior to Fudge and was prone to reminding Fudge of this at every opportunity. Cillin, somewhat out of his depth in the matter of keeping order between his two squabbling daughters shuffled closer to Mel making conciliatory sounds much to Fudges disappointment.
Ruffles, who had taken refuge from her two squabbling daughters in one of the egg boxes below the perch in an attempt to get some sleep, mutters “anyone who is laying eggs is daddy’s darling” into her breast, then closes the lower lids of her eyes.
Cillin leant over the top the egg box Ruffles had taken refuge in and made affectionate noises, mentioning that nobody cleans his wattles and comb like his darling Ruffles.
Fat Bird deposits a large pile of droppings on the floor below, gave Fudge one last peck on the back of the head and closed her eyes.