My chickens are spoiled brats. I once incurred their wrath by forgetting to bring their daily bowl of oatmeal. Oh the chickeny fury!
I blame it all on Doctor Dolittle. In addition to speaking to animals, the Doctor is a gourmet chef. Naturally the chickens eat like royalty. Of course, they must dine on the finest dinnerware. Oh the chickeny elegance!
Today, I tried to deliver their morning treat by tossing their favorite Black Oil Sunflower Seed on the ground. They just stared at me expectantly, waiting for their real treat to materialize. No amount of logic would satisfy them. They just looked at me with their "we are not amused" look. Mr. Big raised one quizzical brow and then grumbled his complaint.
He then disdainfully walked to the compost heap and clucked to summon the ladies for delicious treats of muddy bugs. They hastened to the heap and set to kicking compost all over me. Thus dismissed, I left the pen.
Doctor Dolittle pointed out my error as a chicken waiter. I had failed to offer their treat in a bowl. I scornfully rejected the Doctor's theory and expounded my own theory about their behavior.
When Doc went back into the house I slipped into the chicken pen, scooped some Black Oil Sunflower Seed into a bowl, and placed the bowl on the ground. The flock raced to the bowl and greedily consumed the treat as if they had not eaten in days. Oh the chickeny joy!
Don't tell Doc.
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