Cheeky buggers...

I have to admit, phrases like "cheeky buggers" just mushroom in my head everytime I contemplate writing this particular blog entry. It's been cookin' in my cranium for awhile now and cheeky, bold, impertinent -- they're all adjectives that seem perfect to describe these city chickens.





I started an entry called "chicken antics" a couple of months ago and never got to complete it. Frankly, I think that title is a bit bland to describe the rascals. As these photos have probably alerted you to, these chickens think they own the "farm," including our casa. These shots were taken a couple of months apart (the first in February, the second today). Both times, we have evidence of Whitey (so very originally named by Fionna) strolling right into the house and making herself at home. (And I might as well admit, yes, that's a ketchup bottle in the top shot, in the bathroom no less. It was taken during Ainslie's "carry the ketchup everywhere I go" phase. I think I've already mentioned she's a bit eccentric).







Sooooo -- my sassy poultry...Today's picture resulted when Grady came in from playing out in the yard. He comes into one of the back rooms where I'm sorting clothing into seasonally appropriate piles. I follow him back out to help him with something and we're both stopped dead in our tracks at the sight of Whitey, happily dining out of the dog food bowl, IN our laundry room. She apparently had followed him when he first came in, and he didn't notice (or so he says, hmmm?).


But, entering the "farmers' abode" isn't a solitary transgression. It's been several weeks ago now that Ainslie lost an entire slice of pizza to "Feather Ears" (I named that one; much more creative, don't you agree?). Ainslie won't venture into the yard unless they're penned now.

Around that same time, another hen (I think it was Alpha Hen, again named by your's truly) not only poked a hole in the window screen but then quickly poked through to pull Fionna's hair. I wasn't happy about the hole in the screen but Fionna's terrified screech was worth it. She had no clue the chicken was outside the window, and it was a pricelessly funny moment. This particular kitchen window is one of their favorite spots. They watch us all day, sometimes jumping down from the stump outside this window to pace to another window to watch me as I move through the house.


Here's a tale that speaks both to the audacity of my hens and the foolishness of our city bred cats. Ginny, our immensely fat, orange cat is mostly very content to lounge the days away inside the house (she's a strictly indoor cat) but occasionally she'll push the screen door open when it's been improperly latched. She rarely ventures more than a few feet out and then she just sprawls and rolls in the dirt/grass (it was grass until the chickens came, now it's pretty much dirt). The other day, Ginny made her escape and rolled contentedly in the dust, completely oblivious to the chickens who had rushed her as they would anything that might be food (and to them -- everything is food!) and were clustered around her. I laughed mightily, at the city cat too foolish to pay heed to the chickens and the chickens too bold to be afraid of what they should be.