Plump the ballerina chicken. When Plump runs through the grass I always imagine her wearing a tutu. She leaps through the air as if she’s a beautiful ballerina, in a grand jeté or entrechat. Because of her wideness, and the thick feathered boots on her feet, her legs also have to move in small circles…these are very difficult moves to achieve and even the most experienced dancers would marvel at her agility.
I think her leaping skills are going to her head a little because she is just so darn bossy sometimes. She sits up in my flower boxes and squawks so loud that sometimes I run out of the house thinking that one of the chickens is being attacked. But all the commotion always turns out to be Miss Plump, squawking orders and opinions from her perch above all of her minions:
Even though she displaces all of my flowers I’m happy that Plump lays eggs where we can find them…unlike Henrietta. Brett spent all morning pulling eggs out from under the train depot where Henrietta decided to hide them in a very large stash. Last night she wouldn’t come out from her little stash because she thinks she has to sit on the eggs and protect them. We spent an hour trying to reach her in the small crawl space where all the world’s spiders and crickets live. After trying to gently dislodge her with a large pole she eventually just got up and walked away. What she doest realize is that all those eggs will never hatch, she’ll sit there forever because we don’t have a rooster. That’s a whole birds and bees talk I’m not ready to share with you yet.