I feel like I should start at the beginning, who we are and how we got to Pixley, but you will learn all that soon enough. There are more pressing concerns at the moment — the biddies across the street.
As we were about to leave for church this morning, My Taller Half (MTH) and I had a discussion about how to make it to the car safely with the girls from across the street outside. I had suggested using the backdoor, but that was vetoed by MTH. When we opened the front door to leave, I breathed a sigh of relief. No sign of the girls!
“Look at that red one peering around the corner.”
I looked, and sure enough, the red hen was at the corner of her house, staring at us. But we had plenty of time to make it to the car. He had already unlocked it with the key fob. I suggested we move quickly, but then he had to go back inside. I looked across the street, and all six biddies were out there, staring at me. I hurried to the car. Oh, no! He didn’t open the passenger’s side door, and there is no lock on the passenger’s side. I’d have to go around the car and use the key.
“Honey!” I shouted.
“Didn’t I unlock it?”
“No! Hurry! They are coming!”
MTH used the key fob to unlock the door from the safety of the house. The chickens were moving fast now. I shrieked, laughing. I made it into the car just in time. A moment later, six hungry biddies were on our front step. One of the black ones eyed me angrily. I couldn’t stop laughing. By now, they were at the door.
They have no fear of the cats or our 65-pound dog. When MTH walked Minnie this morning, the hens followed them around the yard. To be clear, we are not actually afraid of them, but they have become a bit too insistent about having our birdseed or mealworms. Occasionally, they look like they are about to snap. They seem a little menacing.
Do chickens have large talons?
From the front door to the corner of the neighbor’s house is only about 115 feet, and when their little chicken legs get going, they can be at our front door in seconds. When they are bearing down on us, their beady little eyes glaring, and we hear the click, click, click of their little chicken feet on the blacktop or the sidewalk, it’s a bit intimidating.
It is completely our fault for even once giving in to their demands for birdseed and mealworms. Now they hang out at our birdfeeder, waiting for a snack. We arrived home from church hours later, and when they realized we were back, they stood outside the front door, squawking.
I laid low.
A few minutes later, they were back over in their yard. They are actually very pretty chickens and fun to watch. There are three glossy black ones, two somewhat scrawny red ones, and a beautiful gray hen named Betty White. As she is gray and not yet white, she must not have met the Balrog yet.
He would probably run from her.