Our morning chat started us off on the wrong track. Ed made the unfortunate comparison of teaching Oreo to behave with time we invest in teaching children to be productive members of the community (...so why would you object to taking just a few days to work with Oreo? Because he is a rooster!). After lots of exclamation marks in nearly everything I said on the subject, I calmed down and we again tried to put ourselves into a rooster's head so that we could understand what thought process might have lead Oreo down this newly belligerent path.
And this morning, I again went out in my protective gear (sleeping bag, gloves) and Oreo jabbed at the sleeping bag and of course got nowhere, looking rather foolish in front of the hens and eventually he cockadoodledooed some and stomped off.
Ed and I sat down to a tranquil breakfast.
I want to work outside today. Oh, is it beautiful out there! The winds are blowing strong gusts of leaves and seeds and all that wonderful Fall stuff, and the skies -- so blue! Even a couch potato would not be able to resist the call of the outdoors.
Outside again, I slowly shed the sleeping bag and stay out of Oreo's path and as I pass closer and closer to him, he stops flapping wildly and by the end of the morning, he is herding his flock and I am pulling my weeds and quiet is restored at the farmette again. Oh, it may not last. Perhaps I'll have to wear a sleeping bag a few more times. But for now, peace reigns again.
Tell your readers how calm he is now! Tell them! -- my sweet Oreo defender says, as I go inside to take a break from our work outdoors.
Late in the afternoon I take a walk with my older girl. It's been nearly a month since I'd seen her and sure enough, I can tell by her belly that we're getting closer to a birth date.
The day is so glorious, the forest so filled with all the aromas of Fall!
And it does not end there: in the evening, Ed and I play tennis. The courts are littered with spent pine needles, but we don't mind. The game is windy and a bit wild. Fitting for this brilliant Autumnal day.
If I may be so bold, I think a more appropriate title for your post (at least until the part where you meet your daughter, admire the foliage and play tennis) is "the things we do for love". You've certainly made me laugh these last couple of days. Oh, Oreo.
ReplyDeleteI really like that your response is to laugh. I mean that.
DeleteI may be totally wrong, but I'd just bet it's like this: Chickens do not have huge memory banks. I mean, how could they? Their heads are so tiny! I think Oreo just "forgot" who you were! And now that you are not doing chicken care duties, it's been hard to remember just what part you play in this little family... I mean for a month almost you've been gone, so he remembers only Ed as the Master of his universe...the Giver of all things important... and you are an intruder to him. I do believe he will come back to the fold and embrace you as one of the group, however, you might just be off again on some trip so it will start all over again.
ReplyDeleteYou know, I think you are quite correct. He always was prone to jumping on small people, but he got to know me over the months. And you're correct, too, that this will happen again in the future. Unless he just grows old and tired of waging battles. Though his instincts tell him: fight off the hostile forces. And his definition of hostile is very chicken like!
DeleteI'm with Sara - enjoying the laughter - though maybe not always intended - it's been a hoot... um, cockadoodledoo!
ReplyDeleteAgree!
ReplyDeleteI wish I could have chickens. I love them. Ed with Oreo is a heart melter. The chickens have it made there! What nice photos of Ed, Oreo, the chickens, the environments and oh, a cookie in the oven! That is exciting.
ReplyDelete