Game of Throne.

The hens were making such a racket yesterday that I rushed out to the coop to see what disaster might have befallen them. Fortunately, it was only a mini-disaster: as in greed = gridlock.

It all started with Coco and Lucy. Coco had the “preferred” nesting spot. Now, mind you, they have an entire nesting counter upon which to lay their eggs, but for unknown reasons, the right-hand corner is currently considered to be prime real estate. And, as you know, it’s all about location, location, location. Coco had commandeered the top spot and was not budging.

"Your time is up, you old biddy! Get outta the way!"

Apparently, the concept of sharing the throne was not an option. Both hens were cackling and carrying on about who had rightful claim. And no one was backing down, unless you count this:

Squatters rights: "Maybe I'll just sit on her."

And then Pippa got into the act. Each of the hens has her own “voice” and little Pippa’s may be the loudest. Think of a band saw. I always thought hens were quiet and only roosters made noise, but I have learned otherwise. Laying eggs can be serious and loud business, especially when there are disputes over property rights.

The plot thickens! Pippa wants to lay an egg, too.

Surely someone would just lay an egg and move on, right? But instead, the fracas escalated. Mama Hope decided to weigh in!

Four hens-a-laying

Did I tell you that Hope is laying again? Bless her heart, she’s raised five kids and gone through two molts, but here she is making breakfast for us again. At this point, it was so loud I worried the neighbors might complain, so I scurried over to our closest neighbors with some fresh eggs and an apology. Lucky for us they were blissfully unaware of the rumble going on next door.

Tulip wonders what the ruckus is all about.

Where there's a will, there's a way: Pippa goes undercover

I finally just had to get away from the noise for awhile. When I came back, things weren’t quite as loud, but three was still a crowd:

Ladies in waiting: Tulip gets into the act

I don’t know who claimed the throne in the end, but later in the day we were certainly living like royalty with five freshly-laid eggs.

But wait, you say, don’t you have six hens? Affirmative. Princess Luna is apparently still too important to be bothered with anything as plebian as egg-laying.

"You want an egg? Call Faberge!"

About polloplayer

Empty nester searching for meaning of life through the occasional chicken epiphany.
This entry was posted in Absurdity, All Things Poultry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Game of Throne.

  1. dizzyguy says:

    It is disturbing to note that territorial disputes, the cause of 95% of man-made wars, are not unknown in the Pollo Kingdom. Nevermind that there is plenty of laying counter space for all hens, they all need that one corner. Ready to go to the mat for it also. What is to be done? Alas, there is no known remedy other than distraction. Treats all around and let’s talk this over girls……….

  2. Dizzyguy=Chicken Emperor

  3. Pollo amigo says:

    Hilarious! I hope that the ruckus was all worth it. Meaning at least an omelette’s worth of eggs. Who could say a chicken’s life is boring? Got the makings of a reality show here. “The Coop Girls of Hope Ranch?” perhaps?

  4. phyllis gutsche says:

    You forgot to mention it was a damp and cool day and we were all out of sorts, they had their fill of worms and wanted a bit of sun.( no pun intended, it was Sunday)

  5. Seasonsgirl says:

    Love it 🙂 Very cute story… it gave me a chuckle and reminded me of our “girls” that all like the same box.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s