The Minnesota Farm Woman

Hello! My name is Tattletale, and The Farm Woman asked me to take her place this evening while she is under the electric blanket watching “Downton Abbey” and dreaming of having a downstairs maid.  She says that I am somewhat of a celebrity after writing a column last summer called “All My Chickens” and that people are asking when I am going to spill the beans again, so here it is.  I don’t know why she thinks that I know everything that goes on around here, because I spend most of my time keeping my feathers clean and minding my own business, but I will try to make an attempt to give you an update on what’s going on.  There’s lots of that cold white fluffy stuff on the ground and it seems like it keeps coming.  None of us like the cold and refuse to go outside and play. When the temperatures plummet, as January temperatures often do, the Farm Woman keeps our door closed and the heat lamp on.  Just imagine being all cooped up with a bunch of old biddies, silly young chicks, and a few frisky roosters. Oh, you say that I just described your family during the holidays? Welcome to my world, and how would you like it for a month or two during the winter?  They really drive me crazy, but that’s enough of that.  We lost old Baldy the Rooster last fall.  I guess chasing the young chicks around all summer finally did him in, so he’s buried next to the coop with a brick on top of his grave. The Farm Woman thinks that will prevent animals from digging him up. She’s always looking around for wolves and coyotes and such.  I think she is a bigger chicken than all of us.  Old Mum finally hatched that single egg and despite the Farm Woman’s prayers that it NOT be another rooster, it sure was. Even though all the hens got together and tried to vote  the men off the island, she says she will not eat any of her roosters for dinner and chooses to buy them from another farmer. Makes no sense to me, throwing good money after bad, but just pay me no mind because I’m just here scratching around and trying to mind my own business. We spend our days looking out the windows of the coop and waiting for spring when we can scratch for worms and bugs again. The Farm Woman gives us plenty of food, but it is just not the same.  She keeps two large feed bags in the coop and discovered the hard way that we often share our food with others.   One evening, she reached in the bag to scoop out some scratch and a mouse ran up her arm. She shrieked so loud that it that it frightened us and we all started cackling and clucking and I think one of the girls laid an egg right then and there.  All that drama over a little bitty mouse! Now she does a funny little dance every time she comes in by kicking at the bags and jumping back.  Kick…jump…kick…jump…put the hand in…pull the hand out. Kind of like a Farm Woman Hokey Pokey, if you know what I mean.  Speaking of drama, I’d better get back to fluffing my feathers and keeping an eye on things around here. Is it spring yet? I’m ready for it, how about you?