Pecking order
Swearing at poultry, the mean-agerie, and new scars
He’s lost the plot, could have been the thought from neighbours and passersby this last week, as they heard me admonish our growing brood of hens.
Fucking dickhead! I hissed at one of our Rhode Island Red Australorps, stopping short of stamping my feet and waving my arms.
Oi knobhead, no, to an Australorp that’s usually a favourite, having raised it from a chick. I pointed a finger on the no as if this sturdy layer was fluent in Angry Man.
The cause of my poultry directed ire? Watching the pecking order in action.
