Close to Nowhere

I was walking across my living room the other day and looked out my front door. It was raining (of course) and my front yard was full of chickens.

A few months ago oldest granddaughter Merideth and her hubby Tim took down the fence around the front of the house. It was funny Mere was helping take it down, as when she was 2 years old she “helped” put the fence up. Pop and I put the fence up to contain her and her then-infant baby sister Gremlin.

The fence was the perfect solution for several years, until the girls learned to just climb over, using the wooden slats as steps.

Time has passed and the old, wooden fence was neglected and deteriorated more every year, until even my brother Danny didn’t want to fool with fixing it. It was hard for me to give up the fence, but it was so dilapidated that it was a relief to see it come down.

With the fence gone, all my daughter Dana’s chickens discovered my front yard. Dana has around 15-20 feathered friends and I think about eight or so are roosters. When they all invade the front yard, it looks pretty crowded.

During the day, I love the chickens and ducks. Dana had a girl turkey and several other ducks, but they apparently ran away. I’m pretty sure that the girl turkey joined the mass of wild turkeys that live around our area. I really loved that turkey; she was really sweet. I hope she’s happy living the wild life.

The chickens go to roost during twilight in the trees around the side of Dana’s house. Unfortunately, they don’t wait until the sun rises to announce the day.

Around 3:30 every single blasted morning, those eight roosters begin competing with each other to see who has the loudest, best cock-a-doodle-do.

It wasn’t too bad when there was a fence around my front yard and my bedroom window. But the fence is gone and the chickens and 30 roosters congregate in my front yard to announce the new day.

I promise I have watched them, and several of the roosters will stand and face each other and begin the contest. Under my bedroom window.

All 80 of the roosters crow and crow and crow. Those beautiful, shiny, fat birds will get right in each other’s face and begin screaming contests.

Right under my bedroom window. At 3:30 in the morning.

I don’t love any of the 800 roosters at 3:30 in the morning.