Even the chickens treat me with distain.

Me with a chicken on my head
Me with a chicken on my head

I thought chickens were meant to be timid creatures, which is why cowardly behaviour was referred to as ‘being chicken’.

So what the hell is a bird I’ve known for only a couple of days doing jumping onto, and then proceeding to sit on, my head?

If they are supposed to be scared of humans then I can only assume that they view me as sub-human, equal to a rock or a bit of wood.

The one in the picture isn’t even the confident one of the chickens we got last weekend.  That title goes to Goldie, my youngest son’s Golden Star who doesn’t seem to mind his often violent affection.

The chicken’s lack of fear does worry me a bit. If a fox turned up, they’d probably invite him into the coop for a cuppa and a chin-wag.

However, as in my mind the fox would be wearing a tweed waistcoat, plus fours and a monocle, I‘ll admit I’m no wildlife expert.

Chickens can be a bit creepy too. There have been a couple of times when I’ve been working in the garden, when the feeling of being watched has come over me. I’ve looked up to find the beady eye of a chicken staring at me from some just-out-of-sight perch only a couple of feet away.

This afternoon I was working in the greenhouse when the three of them began circling the outside, occasionally pecking at the glass. I wonder why Hitchcock didn’t feature chickens much in The Birds.

Imagine you’re sitting on a bench by a playground, enjoying a quiet cigarette. Gradually the skies darken and you begin to be aware of a growing rustling sound. Suddenly there is a squawk, and you spin around only to see CHICKENS ON A CLIMBING FRAME.

Ridiculous or terrifying? Like so many things (Loose Women, my cooking, Etonians.) chickens can be both.


6 thoughts on “Even the chickens treat me with distain.

  1. You should come to the seaside and get nagged at more often. Look forward to reading next week’s instalment.
    I think sheep have the same PR guru as chickens (Max Clifford branching out?). They are similarly billed as ‘shy, nervous, scared of humans’ etc. Not the ones that blocked the road on my daily climb to some god-forsaken village school in the Esk valley duriing my first teaching practice or the ones that surrounded Martin and I during the inevitable ‘are we lost?’ part of our walk somewhere in the countryside near Birmingham – yes there is countryside near Birmingham – and made such a horrible agressive clacking noise that even the animal loving and fearless Martin paled at the prospect of re-crossing the same field to return to somewhere where we vaguely had an idea how to get back to the car.
    Pure evil in woolly jumpers.

  2. Just thought I’d pop over here and say Hi.


    And you may post many photos of yourself but to me you will always be ‘woman with chicken on head’.

    Ah, I love the Internet!

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