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Mono Mom

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I try to teach the Moon talking chicken. My previous dog, a 150-pound bullmastiff named Henry, spoke perfect chicken and he taught me to hear, too.There is a difference between the cackling of hens laying eggs, the fucking decoy as they cross an open space without air cover, chatting social birds grazing together, and the cacophony herd when he is pursued by a predator. It is the subtle difference between the sound of laughter and crying hysterically. A mother learns to hear his children. A guard chicken learns to hear in his chickens. Moon is almost here. When we hear the birds call to fear him and I'm out of the house and the yard in any direction the chickens escape.Intuitively he felt the tension and captures the scent of the Fox, or the neighbor's dog or coyote. We March, the perimeter and sniff and bark and urine and the mast. Occasionally, we have the pleasure of the pursuit of a killer chicken in the woods or on the road. Moon is rewarded with love and hugs dried liver snacks, and with the authorization to shoot a warning to predators of the bark and leave out of its own to eliminate the threat. Protection of chickens is his business and he takes it seriously.It is confusing for him when my mother chasing chickens stereo attack me while I'm collecting eggs inspire a series of speeches that would make high volume blue sailor grimaced. But this is not the mother mad. Anything close to their chicks gets a sharp beak in the face, or foot. It is 90 degrees in the shade and I wear my high black boots to protect the tender flesh of my ankles when I go into the barn. Moon gets angry when I'm upset, and I do not want to send mixed messages about who is the prey and predator is, so I'm trying to reduce the cries and foul language.The chicks are malicious. They found each break in the wall fence around their apartment in breeding and few have managed to escape in cooperation with 80 other birds, leaving their mother behind Panic. Take me tired, I finally let the moms and ten chicks join the herd. They could stay within the cooperative, but the stereo mothers chose to take the kids free range. For these days, every morning, the tribe of ten birds follow their mothers in the yellow grass, weeds and brush from the backyard looking grub.It worried me to see the chicks a week, free ranging, but hey, I'm not their mother. Then yesterday, the fox made an appearance. Moon and I hunted the first time. Then watching the moon at the window and chased him leave a few hours later. Then at the end of the afternoon it seems to be a moment of fear when 50 birds in a run towards the hill behind the Coop. But at 5:30 when I went to collect eggs, moms and their brood sensitive stereo dragged under the nest boxes in the cage, litter scratching and resting in the shade.The chicks were confident enough to perch on the sill and rocks. I had a moment I stood there watching the admiring the beauty and fragility, the innate wisdom, and strength. The Chicks palm of the hand, doing what chickens do with their intelligent design. So it saddened me to find one of the moms stereo missing in action when I went near the Coop at 8:30 last night. In the corner without his co-mother was single mother, does his best to cover all ten chicks. I had planned to sell one of the mothers and five chicks anyway, because I have too many chickens.Now, I called my friend Julie and her teenage daughter, Trudy, and asked them to pick up single mother and brood. They arrived around 10:00 pm with a niche and miner's light red head-light. In the darkness, Trudy crawled on the floor of the Coop and charge of the hen and her chicks in the cage. They went out to a safer location, where they will have more protection than they had here, and more attention from Trudy and her friends. It's funny how we invent stories about the legendary animals of the farm.I see Mama attack spread its wings and swelling in the face of the Fox, defying the son of a bitch to touch one of her chicks. I see single mother rearing brood security and housing as the fox snaps spine Attack mom, crushing her lungs in her mouth and take her to dinner. Of course, the truth may be another story. mom attack may have reached its limit of chicks and chicken shit, put on her best dress and dancing shoes, said goodbye to mom single, "So long, suckers, and left the door without looking back, for a hot date with the rooster on the road.This is not my vision.