Saturday 8 June 2013

Chick, chick, chicken.

The last view I saw before I fed the chickens.

Question Blog … Have you ever seen a chicken run? No I don’t mean one of those wooden buildings where the chickens lay their eggs. And I don’t mean ‘Chicken Run’ the animation film of the year 2000. I actually mean, literally, have you seen a chicken run, as in a chicken putting one leg in front of the other to cover as much ground as possible in the shortest possible time. A fast trudge if you like. Gotme? Good. Right. Well they do look funny in their ungainly gait but they can run quickly. Amazing quickly when food is the incentive!
  And so it came to pass a week ago yesterday, I was sat in my daughters camper van parked in the farmer’s field where we staying for the week with all other campers long since gone home after the Bank Holiday break. The adjacent field contained a couple of chicken runs (the wooden type!), some rare sheep breed and a few geese. The van’s side sliding door was wide open and I was admiring the Derbyshire Peaks while I munched on my lunchtime sandwiches. At peace with the world I was Blog. You’re actual contented camper! I was watching the chickens peck away contentedly about 100 yards away (90 metres to you Blog). I was thinking how slow my trudge is these days and wondered how to make the chickens run fast. Juxta thoughts? Now it must have been the power of this subliminal thought process because the chickens were soon in full flight except that they weren’t in full flight per sec, i.e. wings flapping flipping fast; they were running fast. And what caused this sudden spurt you ask Blog. I am glad you asked that question. As I said I was quietly munching on my sandwich which my dear wife of 42 years and two days had prepared for my luncheon when I suddenly felt sick. Very sick. Violently sick. I just a made it to the van door and I was violently sick with an impressive series of projection vomits. I managed to shoot out of the van, through the open doorway to the grass outside and there I performed. A performance of Oscar proportions. The speed of movement would have had Tyson and Usain green with envy. As green as the grass. As green as I was! The first projected sick vomit had barely hit the ground before the first chicken skidded to a halt at my feet, leading a phalanx of another dozen. Their speed over the ground was impressive, easily breaking evens, and not even waiting to catch their breath as they clucked into my sick. The sound of hens in paroxysms of pleasure as they frenziedly devoured my wife’s sandwiches; it was pleasure to see them enjoying their food; my food. As the next of my dear wife’s sandwiches arched into the air, their clucking reached a crescendo of clacking. Share and share alike I always say. They almost finished their surprise meal before I did. With the prospect of no immediate half-digested tit bits arriving soon, the consensus of opinion was to stick around in case there was more sick around a little later. Give the boy a break. Give him time to think. They decided that I was a good future bet for a meal out and wouldn’t leave my heels. I walked to the toilet block to clean myself up. The flock of hens followed. I walked back to the van. The hens followed. I went for a little walk around the field to clear my head. The chickens came along too. A bleeding Pied Piper I was without me pipe and no sign of any rat. Who needs a rat when you have yourown personal private flock of chucks? The cockerel came over to find out what my attraction was and I heard the chicks telling him that they had just been out for a meal; they told him it was a sickin in a basket. Or it sounded something like that.
   Having missed out on a free meal, this next morning as dawn broke, so did the cock outside the van. A series of very loud continuous cock a doodle doo which went on and on and on got me up before the sun was up! Obviously getting his own back for not having received a formal invitation to the free meal out the day before! Very peeved he seemed when I chased him. He was none too happy with the chopper I was carrying either.
                Colin
P.S. Spent the day in Sheffield library … ,more next time Blog.

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