Daddy's Little Helper...

So here I am, MP3 player on and earbuds in, painting away in the living room.

Suddenly my husband returns from HIS project in the back yard, which today is repair of the coop doors, damaged in last week's windstorm. I notice he is scowling.

At me. Uh oh.

So I yank one of the earbuds. He growls, "Your chicken..."

I sigh. Whenever one of them misbehaves, we tell each other: 'Your chicken just...' (insert naughty chicken activity here).

"Which one?"

"Linc!"

"What did she do THIS time?"

He then tells me how while he was trying to work, Linc was constantly underfoot, and completely engrossed by what he was doing. Now, this is how chickens ARE--if you are working around them, they must be intricately involved, like nosy old neighbor ladies. ALL of them. At once.

This can make for lots of chicken-y interference, like today.

"She wouldn't get out of my face!" He wails. Then he says she grabbed the screw off the end of the drill and was off to the races, forcing him to chase her around the run trying to get a potentially deadly screw away from a damned chicken before she swallowed it. This gave all the other birds the idea that Linc had a really cool goodie, so they joined in the parade.

He finally did wrestle the screw away from Linc, much to everyone's disappointment, and finished his project. I remarked on how Linc was just like Bear, our Head Hen, and asked him where Bear was during all this. Turns out Bear was watching the whole escapade fondly, as if Linc was following in her footsteps.

Like some kind of Dollar Store Luke/Yoda thing.