Chickens are painted and loaded into the kiln for bisque firing

The First Day of Spring

Fifi waited patiently for The Woman to come open the gate and thought how nice it would be to have a proper dust bath. Penny made some quiet low sounds of impatience. The hens had literally been cooped up for days waiting for the rain to stop. None of them enjoyed being wet and so they ate and slept inside their cozy coop almost all winter. 

Yesterday, the last storms of winter finally petered out and the late March sun was out in a blaze of glory, the air smelled like daffodils and fresh grass, and there was a stiff cool breeze drying everything up and making them all restless. Spring was the sacred season, that must be enjoyed to the fullest before the misery of the humid North Carolina summer descended upon them and throttled them with sultry heat. 

Finally, the hens could hear The Woman coming, humming a nice song, rattling a can filled with whole corn kernels. Everyone stood up and started talking at once. 

Fifi, out sunning herself

“Just be patient,” said Penny, the one who could hardly wait to get outside and see the sky. As the door creaked open everyone hopped and flapped and cackled with joy. The sun burst into the coop and the fresh breeze swept through, swirling the dust and hay every which way, dismissing the stagnant air within.

“Hello girls!” Said the woman cheerfully. They scattered into the spacious run that was built in full sun. Except Fifi, who checked her hat and fluffed her feathers as if she was expecting company, before venturing outside. 

As the woman scattered corn about for them, they pecked the ground and stretched their wings. Fifi found the ground still too damp for a dust bath, but happily searched the ground for bugs. She could hear a crowing in the distance.