Ready for Chicken Duty

It is just past six-thirty in the morning and it’s still pitchy black outside. Or “big dark” as a two-year-old friend of mine once called the nighttime out-of-doors. Besides that, the wind is raging and the rain is beating against the house. It’s nice to be snug indoors sipping my second cup of coffee.

Soon, though, it will be light enough to go open the coop for the day and feed the chickens. To say that I am reluctant is the understatement of the morning. And it’s not as if there is much payback these days. The girls haven’t been forthcoming with an egg for more than a week. In fact, the Wyandottes haven’t been laying for several months. I believe it’s a combination of old age and winter shutdown.

I’m thinking that I could play that same card and just skip my chicken duties until the storm passes but I’d probably be reported for backyard chicken abuse if there is such a thing. Not that our four ladies don’t have spacious quarters where they are shut in for the night. It’s just that their food and water is out in their run and it would certainly be foul cruelty to keep them shut away from those necessities even for a day.

Empty Nests

So, in a few minutes, off I’ll trek in my Morning Chicken Regalia – barn coat over bathrobe, rubber boots, thick knit wool hat that Rosemary made me for the winter cold. (Little did she know that it would become standard gear for these wretched, storm-tossed trips to the coop and back.) Nyel says it’s only about fifty or sixty yards. I’m thinking it’s more like a hundred but then I never played football. Come to think of it, neither did Nyel.

While I’m waiting for enough light to see my way, I’m listening to Larry Murante’s wonderful wintery “Ready for the Dark.” But he doesn’t mention the chicken trek… or  even Mrs. Crouch. Obviously, he’s not singing about Oysterville this time.