Monday, 11 May 2009

Drastic Measures

Belinda is refusing to leave her broody state. Despite me shutting her out of the nestbox and dumping her on the grass repeatedly, she's not giving up. When the nest box is unavailable, she grumbles and complains before making herself a nest under the coop. Or sits on top of it, glaring at me in defiance. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

From her pancake state on top of the coop, she observed me rummaging about the garage in search of a bucket. She gave me the evil chicken eye as I took said bucket to the outside tap and began to fill it. Suspecting that no good could come of this, she started yelling her head off. Undeterred, I grasped her firmly and advanced on the bucket. Cocking her head to one side, she eye balled me in a manner which suggested 'don't even think about it, mate'. Taking a deep breath, I plunged the grumpy hen bum first into the frigid water.

At first, I think she was too shocked to react. She froze, beak open, as the cold water soaked into her drawers. As the cold reached her skin, she shrieked and set about trying to peck me to death. I held her still for a count of ten, then put her on the decking. She took off like a rocket, head down and bum up, running in that funny waddling manner that pekins have. All the while, she shrieked her displeasure. The other girls stopped eating/dustbathing/pooing to watch the soggy Belinda run laps around the garden. I felt hideously guilty, but dunking in cold water can provide the shock that the broody hen needs to snap her out of her futile state.

Ten minutes later, she was scratching about the garden, while Doris inspected her soggy knickers and clucked sympathetically. I actually thought it might have worked. Suddenly, she clocked me watching her from the kitchen window. After observing me for a few seconds, she very deliberately waddled back to the coop, jumped up on top of it, and went pancake.


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