Since my neighbors cut down a lot of the shrubbery between our yards, I now have a view of their chicken coop. It's not very close by, and it's partially blocked by what I've been told is a "dog run," a fenced in area in our vast yard where, if we were "real" southerners, I suppose we'd lock up our dogs, instead of snuggle with them on the living room floor. Instead, we use the area to make compost, and use the fence to keep our dogs out of it.
Anyhoo, the chickens. I absolutely adore the rooster. Probably more because he lives on the opposite side of the house from my bedroom window, so I never hear him crowing in the morning until I'm already up. Because in case you'd never considered this, rooster crows are entirely dependent upon where you are when you hear them. Roosters crowing when you're making tea and eggs = awesome, but rooster crowing when you're in bed and trying to sleep = feathery hellspawn.
The best thing about the rooster is that he likes to hang out on top of the hen house. He stands up there, strutting, and quite often, there's a hen up there with him. Sometimes two. I like to think of the coop as some sort of bunny ranch. Hugh, the Rooster, decides who gets the top position and gets to come upstairs with him, based on whims. I haven't decided which hen to call Crystal. Wasn't there a Holly, too? Or am I confusing Hugh Hefner with Bob Barker ... ?
Anyway, I like thinking of the coop as a tiny redneck bunny ranch. Especially since I've heard the bunny ranch smells about as good as a chicken coop.
