Chickens and Utilities

When one lives on a plot of land that is home to a Progress Energy transformer, one must occasionally open up the property for utility work access. This may include random numbers of safety-green-vest-clad workers roaming your property with heavy equipment and ladders–like today, for instance. As a homeowner, I understand these things. As a chicken, there is no such level of understanding. Oh my, goshensakes, no.

Today, the chickens got their fill of man tools, trucks and cranes, 20-foot ladders, spittin’ n smokin’ n chewin’ n all the testosterone that comes along with sweaty men in tool belts and hardhats. (And for the human female population, I’ll vouch that the scenery wasn’t half-bad. Except for the smokers, who are automatically disqualified–and who were kindly asked to cease and desist doing such things on my property.)

There was much BOK-BOK-BOKing going on from inside the coop, where the girls skedaddled after the first ladder-clad gent shuffled by. There was no calming down of the ruffled feathers–literally and figuratively. I tried bribing them with spinach. Nothin’. Black oil sunflower seeds? Nada. Mozarella cheese? Ahh, that’s the ticket. After a brief Q&A with the workers about hen-keeping and the origin of green eggs, I advised them to talk sweetly to the girls when they got upset. Of course I ignored the raised eyebrows and the ‘are you serious’ sideways looks. Yes, I’m serious.

Back in the house, an hour later, and the cacophony of BOKing starts again. Incredibly, I hear a deep voice croon, “It’s okaaaay, it’s alright.” Hahaaa, delightful. I didn’t have the heart to admit that all the sweet-talkin’ in the world wouldn’t make a beakful of difference to those girls if the voice wasn’t my own.

Finally they left. Two hours with no air conditioning, and the house was getting hot. Just before I’d have been forced to don my granny suit and head out to cool off in the pool….

A quick visit to reassure the girls their lives weren’t in mortal danger, and I’m back at work. Just another day for my city hens.



4 thoughts on “Chickens and Utilities

  1. Have you ever had that transformer blow? If so you’d remember having to put on a clean pair of britches LOL. I was driving in a convertable once and had one blow right above the car. This huge hot piece dropped in the street feet from the car. I was shaking so bad could hardly drive eek.
    Poor chickens freaking today. Mine get bent when the neighbor fires up his lawnmower. They are currently feasting on banana leaves. Their new favorite treat. Looks to be a wet night. Stinky coop tomorrow am. Sigh

    • Yes! During a horrid storm two months ago, it blew, and it sounded like a cannon had gone off in my kitchen. Unbelievable! Can’t believe the girls had any hearing capacity left… Had some really brilliant utility workers (and yes, I’m being sarcastic) out here who reached up with a chainsaw on a pole and cut down tree branches — right on top of the garage roof and part of the chickens’ run! — without even looking to see where they would fall. Let me tell you, Progress Energy and their subcontractors got a Marguerite-sized earful of complaining from this mother hen that night. They are city hens, for sure!

  2. Your little hens just lllloooovvvveeee their protective mama! This was such a cute article — and I especially liked hearing the “guy” telling the “girls” that “it’s okay”! Guess he has a soft spot in his manly heart for them scared hens. :o)


  3. Ah, yes. It is such a rough life of a pampered city chicken.
    The good news is that they have the attention span of a flea and as soon as the men are gone, they will have forgotten all about the horrible intrusion on their little world.

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