...the most hated person in history is NOT, in fact, Hitler.
At least, going by the chickens' reactions to me lately. They really, really now how to lay on the guilt with a freakin' trowel.
chickens are NOT big into any kind of change in their routine or
surroundings. They want everything to stay just as it IS, thank you.
Even if it's a change for the better, changes are viewed with
unhappiness and distrust, and they'll look at YOU--in their minds the
occupier of the position of Head Roo and Giver of All Things Good--to
fix it, and fix it NOW.
So when we moved, and subjected our flock
to various and sundry (and repeated) offenses and indignities of
relocation, stuffing them in carriers, making them live in cramped
quarters, etc. we found ourselves apologizng over and over again and
trying to make it up to them with extra attention, cuddles and treats.
Food goes a long way in chickenland.
this morning I went out to check on them and got a dose of heavy duty
ChickenGlare from at least 6 of the oldsters. The chicks from last
year's hatch were blithely out in the run, dashing about in the 25
degree weather with the wind & blowing snow, not really minding the
chill. Youngsters are notorious for being kinda brain-dead and naive,
and as such are more flexible in their thinking.
old ladies of the flock were another story. Their expectations are set
in concrete. You don't mess with the ladies' dignity and sense of
balance. They like to know what to expect in life from one moment to
the next, and moving from southern California to northern Nevada in winter, haha, is NOT condusive to friendly human/poultry politics. They'd huddled in silent groups at the back of the coop. This is what I got from them.
Stare has the power to drop lesser creatures in their tracks. The
Frizzles especially contrive to look extra pathetic, as if those curling
feathers only serve to allow the cold to get directly to their skin.
I'd unwittingly compounded my sin by forgetting to go out there with
goodies in hand to make up for the weather. The piteous looks,
Lordy--the whining about their poor miserable condition was truly
heartrending. The repeated loud and vocal appeals to me to DO
something was undending. You'd think I was twisting off their toes.
I got out of there as fast as I could. Besides, it was cold out there!
I sense a large mealworm order in my future.