Meet the Farmer
The farmer has never known a day without henhouse chores. This photo was taken in better days, but even early on like this you can see what it was doing to him. The chores never end. From the continental breakfast to adjusting the roost pole, it really takes a jack of all trades, if not a soft touch.
In the blue light of what’s left of night I made my way to the coops. These are the last icy days of winter. This is no time to slip. It should be warmer today. Warmer tomorrow than it will be today. The rooster was quiet. His end of the roost has looked less than ready for guests lately. GameBoxCube controller wires tangle with sweatshirts and fast food wrappers. It’s been a long winter. The hens ignore him. They’re molting. I told him the girls would warm back up to him and soon they would all be scratching in the garden. "Pfft! What garden? I don't see a garden!" I reminded him about worms. "Frozen worms?" He turned away from me. I went ahead and said it, "This is about Miss Lonelyhearts, isn't it?"
He's been writing to Miss Lonelyhearts, the advice columnist for the coop newspaper.
"Ok, maybe... Here, read this." He scratched a copy of the paper in my direction. I shook off the chicken splat and read, "Dear Forlorn Rooster, I wasn’t aware we had a rooster.”
I had to agree, that would rattle anyone. He turned away from me a little and asked, "Why would she write that?"
"First of all, Miss Lonelyhearts is Sarna, I can tell. Secondly, it’s still winter and no one is in much of a hurry to start laying eggs. I’ve heard that the hens think you’re amazing, especially when you scratch things up for them and buy them movie tickets."
"They pecked all the popcorn."
I picked up a game controller. "Well, you crow every time the movie goes from dark to daylight. I’ve got confidence in you. Go square your hackles, walk on out there and be the rooster. Tell them Spring is coming. Tell them stories about eating all the peas from the pods. Make promises. They love to hear your promises."
August 20, 2017
The big eggclipse nears and Green Coop is making ready. I noticed this morning they have hung Christmas stockings. Tri-Tip was casual about it. I think they are betting I’ll give in and fill them.
Wiggy asked if she could borrow the pickup and drive everyone to South Carolina. I told her that would be a staggeringly bad idea. Not only for the because chickens can’t reach the brakes but because it's a very long way and chickens fall asleep the moment it gets dark.
I warned all of the chickens not to look directly at the eggclipse. I have made them all viewing glasses. Tuffet, our youngest said, "I'll look if I want to. You can't stop me."
I said, "You can get severe eye damage. I'm not kidding."
She said, "You still can't stop me. Don't try to stop me."
I'll make sure she keeps her glasses on. Somehow.
August 21, 2017
Mattie told the other hens and Silver about the eggclipse event and how it unfolds. She told them how the Night Egg has come to be candled and how all can see the Great Comb of the Day Egg as it lights it from behind. As the moment approached the hens of Green Coop had reached a zenith of sorts. Honey BBQ scratched at the turntable while M’Eggan read her poetry aloud. I was the first to notice the dimming light. Light through pinholes landed as cresents. Shadows through trees had bites taken from them. The sounds of the barnyard dimmed. The music stopped. I turned around as the eclipse neared totality and saw the good and wholesome hens of green coop making their way to bed. They walked past me, already half asleep. They got onto their roosts. They started nodding off. All of that and they go to sleep… Good night, faithful Egg Culters. I’ll see you in a few minutes and fill you in.