And now… greener grass for Slutvana!

The East Door – Where Slutvana waited.

She didn’t really say so — which is out of character for a Russian, even a Russian Orloff — but she was lonely.  Her hen friends had left her, one by one, each the victim of old age, until she was the only coop lady left.  She tried to talk to Farmer Nyel about it — came to the east door several times and waited patiently, looking through the window.  But Farm Nyel was too sick and, though I tried to explain that to Slutvana, she didn’t really want to hear it.

So, day before yesterday I called the local “Chicken Spa” — at least those who know the luxurious life led by Nancy Allen’s chickens refer to her place in those terms.  She came to the rescue right away and though Slutvana put up a little fuss — broke out of her box and headed into the rhododendrons and on down the lane — she soon succumbed to Nancy’s charms and they headed south to Seaview.

The Green, Green Grass of Slutvana’s New Home

“I gave her some ice water (“Spa!” I say!) when we got home,” Nancy told me later.  “She must have been hot in that box.”  She’s been in semi-isolation for a couple of days — seeing and being seen by the other ladies of Nancy’s flock, but not actually co-mingling yet.  Cate stopped by to see her in situ and said she looks great — cocky (if hens can look cocky) as usual.  Or maybe saucy is the operable word, though that may not be the best choice for a chicken, either!

I miss her — when I think of her.  But, truth to tell, right now that’s not as often or as timely as she requires.  I’m sorry to be out of the chicken biz, but there was never any doubt that they were Nyel’s girls, not mine.  One more big piece of my life that must be relegated to wonderful memories.  And perhaps I’ll think about the chicken book that Nyel was hopeful I’d write.  Maybe…  We’ll see.

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