Things are a bit hectic here at the House of the Madchickenlady. It's the summer holidays, so the children are adding to the general air of chaos which permeates. Not that im twitching. Much. The weather has turned hot and sticky, and the small people can be seen flaked out on the trampoline eating ice lollies while the hens lay underneath it, hoping for some droppage. I think it's safe to say that the garden looks like a post-apocalyptic scene in a zombie film. Still, at least they're all quiet. For now.
Currently, Hilda, Celia, Vera and Gladys are all broody. Hilda has had two trips to the broody cage, and remains stubbornly fluffed up. Under normal circumstances I'd persevere until she snapped out of it, but we're heading away to the Lake District tomorrow so she will have to stay in the palace and growl at the chicken sitter. It's official ladies and gentlemen, the broodies have won.
Just to shake things up and get some attention, Mabel decided to play silly buggers on Monday. I was alerted by the smallest child that Mabel 'was making a weird noise'. On inspection, I had to agree. Mabel was breathing with an audible 'party blower' sound. She was also still eating, drinking, preening and chasing underlings. I gave her a thorough check over and could find no other issues. Placing the chicken kazoo on the ground, I fretted a bit. Mabel looked back at me, and spontaneously stopped being a percussion instrument. After several minutes of watching her silently mooching about the garden in seemingly perfect health, I shrugged and made for the door. At which point she immediately started up her comedy sound effects again.
With difficulty, I wrestled the hen's beak open and peered in to the abyss. Nothing. I had some vague idea that I'd find a piece of grass that hadn't been properly mashed down in to her crop. My theory was that as she breathed in and out the grass was being vibrated, causing the annoying party blower effect. You can probably tell that I have no veterinary training. Releasing the disgruntled chicken's face, we stared at each other. I suspected her of fowl play. She suspected me of idiocy. We were probably both right. Mere moments later, she stopped making the sound altogether. I do think she had something stuck in her crop, but I have no idea why it created the chicken kazoo.
Another mystery never to be resolved.