and my current rug and sit on the porch and listen to them chatter and scratch. They all come up in the grass around my chair. I love the sound of their feet in the damp lawn and the sound of their beaks snapping off grass. I have one hen that comes and just stands and talks and talks. Her voice will even go up like she is asking questions. So I of course carry on conversations with her, until she gets every thing off of her chest.
I have one hen, I call her Jennifer. When I got new chickens I got one of those kind that I believe is an Asil breed. I thought I was getting two hens and one turned out to be this giant rooster. Since my rooster is a Silkie, I knew Mr. Asil was going to have to become someones dinner. My son and his wife took care of that for me. His hen though, has always been so wild. I have spent now two years trying to tame her. She remains alone. Hens will become friends with each other after a fashion. But not Jennifer. She remains alone and to her self. I was watching them the other day, and it is almost like she speaks a different kind of chicken language.
When I have time to just visit with my hens, to me that is a perfect day. Not to mention, this is the last weekend in August. Come on September!!!
― E.B. White, Charlotte's Web