Let me introduce myself. Yes, I know---'HE' calls me Super Hen. I kinda like it but truth be known---HE actually can't tell the difference between myself and my sisters! Yeah, I know---I let HIM catch me when I escape our quite generous enclosure, but on several occasions we have swapped and one of my dear sisters has stood in for me while I pretend to be---a normal hen.
My sisters and I arrived n the Coast about 17 weeks ago and we were delivered by our former owner to this lovely back yard. Don't tell HIM, but we really do appreciate the efforts HE made to make us a home. The only downside would be that hairy monster called---PERDY. Me thinks that if she gets half the chance, our feathers will be permanently rearranged!
How did I get my name? Right from the beginning of our new life, I was different from my sisters. There are two side to me; one the gentle loving sister and the other the adventurist and killer chook! I look after my sisters and woe betide and stupid sparrow that assumes that the food is 'shared product,' hence my tendency to chase off and yes---if necessary, go to battle for our 'stuff.' HE thinks that the dead sparrow was as a result of my violent foray, but actually, the poor wee thing died of a heart attack! I guess that's how legends are formed, from a simple event and the subsequent additions to fact.
Perhaps you are pondering the use of 'language' re my telling of this story. Get used to it my friends, because hey--I am from royalty. I know---I'm not the only 'queen' in this story, but a little competition adds to the rich and varied tapestry of 'being here.'
HE thinks that it was me who defended our 'realm' from the birds. HE also assumes that it is me who lays the eggs. Damn---HE will be thinking that I produce 'golden eggs at this rate. OK---I am working on that. I hear HIM squealing in that annoying manner, every time he eats one of our eggs, stating the obvious. Of course the bloody yoke is golden!
I intend---yes me----'Super Hen' to feed the legend, to give HIM stories, but told by me. I shall escape----everyday and those events will be truthfully reported. BUT---there is a problem. ANY super-hero needs a costume. The other person in the household claims HE is going to design one, but perhaps YOU can help out there! I shall await your efforts that MAY be rewarded, if you live nearby. I may be Super Hen, but I have yet to perfect a deliver system re the production efforts of my sisters to places more than twenty metres from our nesting boxes (in and out of the enclosure!) I do have a cousin with some of those flying robots of course. perhaps John can help out there---just saying.'
Right---I'm off to create some mischief in the neighbourhood. I am thinking of getting that hairy beast, Perdy into trouble by a little bit of old fashioned 'blame shifting.' Cluck with you---later.
My sisters and I arrived n the Coast about 17 weeks ago and we were delivered by our former owner to this lovely back yard. Don't tell HIM, but we really do appreciate the efforts HE made to make us a home. The only downside would be that hairy monster called---PERDY. Me thinks that if she gets half the chance, our feathers will be permanently rearranged!
How did I get my name? Right from the beginning of our new life, I was different from my sisters. There are two side to me; one the gentle loving sister and the other the adventurist and killer chook! I look after my sisters and woe betide and stupid sparrow that assumes that the food is 'shared product,' hence my tendency to chase off and yes---if necessary, go to battle for our 'stuff.' HE thinks that the dead sparrow was as a result of my violent foray, but actually, the poor wee thing died of a heart attack! I guess that's how legends are formed, from a simple event and the subsequent additions to fact.
Perhaps you are pondering the use of 'language' re my telling of this story. Get used to it my friends, because hey--I am from royalty. I know---I'm not the only 'queen' in this story, but a little competition adds to the rich and varied tapestry of 'being here.'
HE thinks that it was me who defended our 'realm' from the birds. HE also assumes that it is me who lays the eggs. Damn---HE will be thinking that I produce 'golden eggs at this rate. OK---I am working on that. I hear HIM squealing in that annoying manner, every time he eats one of our eggs, stating the obvious. Of course the bloody yoke is golden!
I intend---yes me----'Super Hen' to feed the legend, to give HIM stories, but told by me. I shall escape----everyday and those events will be truthfully reported. BUT---there is a problem. ANY super-hero needs a costume. The other person in the household claims HE is going to design one, but perhaps YOU can help out there! I shall await your efforts that MAY be rewarded, if you live nearby. I may be Super Hen, but I have yet to perfect a deliver system re the production efforts of my sisters to places more than twenty metres from our nesting boxes (in and out of the enclosure!) I do have a cousin with some of those flying robots of course. perhaps John can help out there---just saying.'
Right---I'm off to create some mischief in the neighbourhood. I am thinking of getting that hairy beast, Perdy into trouble by a little bit of old fashioned 'blame shifting.' Cluck with you---later.
