It's very blowy here today. At last the snow has gone, unfortunately it has left this dull drizzly weather behind it. Usually in such conditions the hens would stay coop-bound, but after all the rotten weather it probably seems positively spring-like to them today. They have all ventured out to scratch about in the flower beds except the babies, who are incarcerated in the garage and engaging in a dirty protest.
Maude is determined to spend some time outside today, even though the others are beginning to flag. One by one, the other hens have conceded defeat to the strong gales. Being a small, light, but very feathery hen can have severe disadvantages in very windy conditions. In attempting to amble nonchalantly across the lawn in a straight line, you can find yourself incomprehensively half running in a diagonal trajectory aimed straight at a wall. Mabel suffered this indignity, peeled herself away from the wall and legged it for the safety of the coop. Even the silkies can only take so much wind battering. However, Maude is grimly determined.
She attempted to sit on the bench, only to be taken by the wind, over shoot her landing site and disappear through the gap in the back. She strolled out a few moments later, as if that had been her goal all along. Hens hate to lose face. However, she has met her ultimate wind related nemesis.
The children have a light plastic football which the hens are always suspicious of. In the lightest of breezes, it can wobble threateningly. When this occurs, the girls congregate together and mutter darkly. Out on her won, Maude didn't stand a chance. As she sat on the lawn, stubbornly ignoring the rain, her nemesis began to move. Coming from the opposite flower bed, it managed to get up a fair bit of momentum. Seeing it thundering towards her, Maude leapt up and ran as fast as her short pekin legs would carry her. She veered to the left in an attempt to shake it off! But, no! In a weird twist of fate, the wind also gusted in the same direction! Maude began sprinting towards the back door, where I have to confess I was hysterical with laughter. All I could hear in my head was the Indiana Jones theme tune. Give that hen a hat and a leather jacket and she could be a star! Skidding to a halt before she ended up splatted against the glass, she took off again for the Convent. The ball harmlessly bounced against the door frame. Maude eyed it from the door of the run, turned around and sauntered inside.
The comedy value alone makes hens brilliant.