Kin Domain Chicken Speak

Winona stared at the foreign entity in her space. This was not one of her sisters and certainly not one of her relatives. The gray-gloved mother had once again deigned to bring something into her territory for the shear joy of change. Hadn't anyone ever informed gray-gloved mother dear that chickens, are well...chicken?

Fear and curiosity riddled her nerves sending electrical discharges through her feet. In response to the unpleasant tingle, she lifted and shook each claw. Maybe if she fluffed her wings and fanned her tail feathers the elongated, opague object would know who was head of this roost.

After several circles, on the VERY far periphery--at least as far as her cage box allowed--and several of her deep-throated hums, she took a position of higher elevation and cocked her head. No sound from the entity. She twitched and glanced left, her sisters were another story. Bunch of twittering cowards all crowded into the corner of the small roost alcove. Some days it was a real pain being the chieftain, or is that chieftess, of this brood. If she cowered now she'd become fodder for their perpetual gossip mill. She raised her beak in the hopes of being heard above the din of humming.

"Wilma quit your bawking, " Winona clacked. "Get over here. You stand guard while I get a closer look."

"Bawkay," Wilma clucked, "Tell me what to do."

For all the world, Winona wanted to roll her eyes heavenward, but alas, chickens have bodily limitations.

"Stare." Winona cackled. "If you see anything change give me one long baawk."

As her sister held the sentinel position, Winona crept forward, extended her beak, craned her neck and viewed the object from right and left, left and right, up and down. The red definitely had her attention. If only the entire world could be red she'd be in chicken nirvana.

Just as her sister, Wilma lost her nerve and hid her head in the grass, no sand here and she wasn't an ostrich any way, Winona stretched forth her beak, which for a chicken is somewhat an involuntary reaction, and pecked the red dot.

"Water," Winona squawked to the bystanders.

"Bawk, really?" Her sisters Whinney, Willy, and the miserable sentinel, Wilma cooed.


Just to be sure. Winona gave the red dot one more aggressive peck.

The cool, fresh fluid dribbled down her throat. Not bad at all. The gray-gloved mother had finally figured out that stale, poop water was a chicken's daily curse.

"Come and get it ladies," Winona twerped. "We just got one of those new-fangled inventions called the Avian Aqua Miser. Let's clack together and tell every gray-gloved mother in the world about this gadget. Don't they know that with this available around the world, we'd all hum in harmony."


**Today's blog is dedicated to Anna and Mark and their work on the Walden Effect a true space of love and Kin Domain.