Crosby Joins The WHA

We've been enjoying rather balmy weather for this time of year - up to about ten degrees when we awoke Tuesday morning. By Tuesday evening, it was feeling more like November as the wind picked up and the cold air nipped as it barrelled through.

Nolan and I arrived home to find Paul crouched in the open door of Lord Stanley's Coop, plugging in the thermostatically-controlled waterer (seriously) so the chickens wouldn't hurt their poor wee beaks when they took a drink. Ice cubes are one thing; frozen solid is quite another. Once it was set, he closed up the man-door in the Coop and headed in. Moments later, one of the feathered creatures hopped up the ramp and indulged in a little dinner. I looked in the window and she was the only bird inside. Odd. Piggy's usually the last of the girls to head in and there was no sign of the three winged members of the NHLPA. "Crap," I thought. "The union's walking out again 'cause I haven't lived up to my end of the contract. Damn birds want their knitted scarves. Crap."

Darkness had set in by this time, so we all grabbed flashlights and split up - Ri and Paul heading into the woods to the north and the boys and I traipsing through the brush to the west. "Phanny? Bobbie?" we called out. "Crosby? Come on chickie chicks." They were nowhere to be found. After wandering about for a good while, shining light up into the whispering trees in search of a possible roosting spot, we reluctantly called it a night and went inside to thaw. Piggy would have to spend the night in the Coop alone. The Poultry Association would have to survive the night in the woods.

Wednesday morning, I opened my shutters and looked out on the Stanley Coop. There was Phanny frantically searching for a way inside. Cameron dashed out to open up their door and Phanny scurried up into the nestbox. A short while later, a warm white egg lay in the wood shavings. Phanny was no longer in a flap but the whereabouts of Bobbie and Crosby was still unknown.

At some point during the day, Bobbie Oar rejoined the membership. There's still no sign of Crosby. She always thought we were bush league anyway. You could tell. Paul figures she negotiated a better contract with the WHA (Wayward Hens Alliance). That's the story we're going with, anyway. The alternative isn't as nice.
 

Nifty Hen Layers Poultry Assoc. (NHLPA) in warmer days