We Live with a Chicken..

We live with a chicken, and I call her chicken.

Actually, we live with two, I think they trade off duties, perhaps an account of same sex partnership in the animal kingdom… groovy. She has two eggs in her nest, which is made of a wooden box wit a few old t-shirts at the bottom. She only sits on the eggs at night, and during the day the two alternate checking on them. Located directly behind our heads at night when the rats come out(on the other side of the protective mosquitera of course) and we occasionally hear her cluck in which I have decided is an account of her happiness with our presense and friendship.

Although a happy pair, one of them seems to frequently forget just where her nest is. Clucking in confusion, she wanders the room poking her head around out bags, sitting on my shoes, wondering why her eggs have laces… then, trying another corner of the room, looking at the crate of eggs we eat for breakfast, trying to remember if she had two eggs or 3 dozen. In the end she happily finds her own, resting with them for a moment and then continuing her daily pursuit of the finest bugs.

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