The trials of Miss Buttons

Today was the first time I took the ladies, in their brooder bin, out to the coop by myself. We were all traumatized.

Usually, the husband does this task, but I was home and he was not, and it was supposed to be a lovely afternoon. I quickly discovered that my wingspan is less than his, which made the journey up the basement stairs, down the deck stairs and along the garden path quite a trial.

Then, less than two hours later, the gentle breeze turned to bluster and the partially sunny sky turned to dark clouds. Time to bring in the ladies.

I learned an important lesson. Do NOT, under any circumstances, put Miss Buttons back in the brooder first. I have never heard a chicken make such an unholy racket. I thought Babette (the youngest by about a week) made a fuss the first time she was separated from her sisters, but she had nothing on Buttons.

I'm quite sure the peeping ("PEEP, PEEP PEEP PEEP PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!") could be heard for blocks, if not miles. Good grief!

Naturally, while this was going on, the other three girls decided to congregate in a corner of the coop under the henhouse (which has about a 2-foot clearance). It took me what feet like forever to snatch Lady Marmalade, after luring her with a blade of grass ("Come heeeeere, my leetle chicken."). As always, Babette was the last one in (wily little thing), but she does have the handicap of not liking to be left alone in the coop, which at least reduces the radius of her mad dashing.

But now all is well, and forgiven, naturally.