It’s right at sundown here at the sprawling campus of the Bay City Sentinel newspaper.
I’ve always liked this time of day after a day of sunshine.
The sun’s rays at this angle leave a softened glow on everything.
As I enjoy this sort-of pastoral scene, I am comforted by our flock, or herd, of chickens.
If you’re counting, there’s four of them – three hens and a rooster.
Jessica and MaLinda always are amused by my degree of tending our poultry.
Mild neglect to intense focus. That’s my purpose.
Over several years of watching MaLinda deftly oversee the birds and methodically gather eggs for my breakfast, I realize that rates way high on my interest meter.
This weekend, as I was herding our flock of dogs, I noticed the usual loose scattering of the chickens was huddled in a tight formation and headed for the neighbor’s place.
They weren’t ambling along. They were marching with a purpose.
So, I decide to set things right and get these hens headed back home, since the rooster isn’t doing his job.
As I reach the neighbor’s front door – hopefully without having to announce my presence or purpose – I see the flock of traitors gathered around his front door and clucking around the shrubbery.
I start yelling at those guys to leave the premises, but I’ve forgotten I didn’t come alone.
The two dogs are more than a little interested in getting into the loud shouting – read: over the top barking - at birds that are supposed to be at our home.
One dog is on leash because of her relentless pursuit of chickens and she has that cord wrapped around my ankles to bring those delinquent chickens to heel.
The other dog isn’t on a leash, but she should have been because she’s gone hellhound furious.
Well, the three hens are certainly all a dither, and they’re headed home in a hurry.
The rooster is headed for the pasture on the other side of my neighbor’s place.
I go in and tell MaLinda about my adventure in corralling the chickens, adding the rooster is AWOL.
I go back without the dogs and look for him.
“He’ll come back. Come in and sit down, I’m watching this show.”
She’s already ignored what I said and my lather about the male in the group.
So have the dogs. They’re sprawled out asleep.
Mild neglect is back on my agenda.
